When you start using senses you've neglected, your reward is to

Hear now the words of Barbara Sher, a guide to the seeking spirit, who proclaimed: “When you start using senses you’ve neglected, your reward is to see the world with completely fresh eyes.” In this truth lies both rebuke and blessing. For too often men and women walk through life as though half-asleep, dulled by habit, relying only on the narrowest portion of their gifts. They eat but do not taste, they look but do not see, they listen but do not truly hear. In neglecting their deeper senses, they forsake the fullness of life itself.

To awaken the neglected senses is to awaken the soul. It is to brush away the dust of routine and behold the world as though it were newly born. The bird’s song becomes more than background noise—it becomes music. The scent of earth after rain becomes a hymn of renewal. The touch of a loved one’s hand becomes a miracle. This is what Sher speaks of: the reward of fresh vision, of renewed wonder, of stepping into life as though the veil has been lifted.

Consider the story of Helen Keller, born both blind and deaf. Her world seemed destined to be locked in silence and darkness. Yet through the tireless work of her teacher Anne Sullivan, she discovered new ways of sensing—through touch, through vibration, through the patient tracing of words upon her hand. When at last she grasped the concept of “water,” flowing cool and alive over her skin, her world transformed. What for others was ordinary became for her a revelation. In awakening a neglected sense, she received life itself with fresh eyes, though her eyes did not see.

The ancients, too, knew of this wisdom. They spoke of the “inner senses”—intuition, imagination, memory, and contemplation. The philosopher Plotinus declared that when a man turns inward, he awakens sight beyond sight, hearing beyond hearing, perceiving not merely the surface of things but their essence. By neglecting these inner senses, one sees only shadows. By recovering them, one beholds truth with radiant clarity.

Yet many live as prisoners of habit, circling the same paths, consuming the same thoughts, perceiving life through a narrow slit. They forget to pause, to breathe, to touch, to listen. They neglect the full orchestra of their being, and so they hear only a thin and weary song. Sher’s call is a call to liberation: awaken the senses you have forgotten, and your prison becomes a palace, your monotony becomes wonder, your despair becomes gratitude.

What lesson, then, must you take, O listener of wisdom? Begin by noticing. Touch the bark of a tree with reverence. Listen to the silence between the notes of a song. Smell the wind before the storm. Look into the eyes of another human being and see the depths within. These simple acts restore the neglected senses and restore, too, the richness of life. Do not move like a shadow through your days—move like one reborn into the light of perception.

Make this your practice: each day choose one neglected sense and awaken it. If you are quick to see, then listen more. If you are quick to hear, then touch and feel. If you are quick to analyze, then imagine and dream. For the soul thrives when all its doors are opened, and the world reveals itself anew to those who dare to perceive it fully.

Thus remember Sher’s words: fresh eyes come not from traveling to distant lands, but from awakening the neglected senses within yourself. The world is already filled with wonder—it is you who must learn to see it again. Do this, and each day will be a beginning, each moment a revelation, each breath a prayer of gratitude for the miracle of being alive.