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Gaining Clarity Through Questions

Gaining Clarity Through Questions



In a small Scottish coastal town, with rugged cliffs and the cries of seagulls echoed

through the streets, there was an optician named Mr MacAllister. For decades, his shop

had been a trusted place where the towns people went not just for glasses, but for the

kind of wisdom that only Mr MacAllister could offer.

One afternoon, a woman named Isla walked into Mr MacAllister’s shop, her eyes clouded

with uncertainty. “Good afternoon, Mr MacAllister,” she said softly, “I think I need a new prescription.”


Mr MacAllister smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling with kindness. “Of course, Isla. Please have a seat.”


As Isla settled into the chair, Mr MacAllister began his routine. He dimmed the lights, and

positioned the phoropter in front of her eyes, the familiar instrument filled with lenses

that would soon bring clarity.

“Now, Isla,” he said, “tell me, which is clearer: lens one or lens two?” He flicked between

the options.


Isla squinted slightly, focusing on the letters projected on the wall. “Hmm, lens one,” she

replied after a moment.


Mr MacAllister nodded, making a small note in his book. “Good. And now, lens three or

lens four?” Again, she compared the options, her mind narrowing in on the differences. “Lens three, I think.”

The process continued, each new lens bringing Isla closer to a sharper, more focused

view of the world. But as they worked, Mr MacAllister noticed something. With each

question, Isla’s posture seemed to loosen, and the tightness in her expression began to

ease. “Isla,” Mr MacAllister asked gently, “Is something weighing on your mind?”


Isla hesitated, then sighed, “Yes, Mr MacAllister. Lately, I’ve felt lost, like I’m adrift. My job, my relationships—everything seems out of focus, like I’m looking through the wrong lens.”


Mr MacAllister paused, his hands stilling as he looked at her with understanding. “You

know, Isla, this process of finding clarity isn’t just about your eyes. It’s about asking the

right questions, one step at a time, just like we’re doing now.”


Isla looked up at him, curiosity and a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, continuing his work. “Just as I ask you to choose between lenses, life presents

you with choices. Sometimes the differences are subtle, other times stark. But with each

question, you get closer to seeing things as they truly are.” He switched to another lens. “Is this one better, or worse?”


Isla blinked, focusing on the view outside—a lighthouse standing tall against the horizon,

guiding ships safely to shore. “Better,” she said softly, almost as if to herself. “It’s about

narrowing down what feels right.”


“Exactly,” Mr MacAllister said, “It’s a process of elimination. By asking yourself the right

questions, you can sift through the fog and find what truly brings things into focus.”


As the exam continued, Isla found herself thinking about her life, applying Mr

MacAllister’s method of clarity. She began to mentally try on different answers to the questions that had been troubling her, just as she tried on the lenses. With each one, she

discarded what didn’t feel right and held onto what did.


Finally, Mr MacAllister stepped back, satisfied. “There we are, Isla. I think we’ve found the right prescription for you.”

Isla looked through the final set of lenses and saw the letters on the wall crisply, each

one sharp and distinct. But more than that, she felt a sense of calm she hadn’t known she

needed, as if a thick fog had lifted from her mind.

“Thank you, Mr MacAllister,” she said, rising from the chair, “for helping me see things

clearly.”


He smiled, handing her the prescription, “Remember, Isla, clarity isn’t just about sight.

It’s about knowing which questions to ask and having the patience to wait for the right

answers.”


As she left the shop, Isla felt a new sense of purpose. Life’s questions were like lenses,

and with each one, she was getting closer to the clarity she had been searching for, just

like a ship guided safely through the mist by the steady light of a lighthouse.



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