The Evil Eye

Here is the thing about the Evil Eye––it’s not evil at all. So much for giving someone “the evil eye.”

I’ve mastered a glare that lets the transgressor know that I completely disapprove of his or her behavior and that the steely glint of my gaze is a ticket straight to hell. It doesn’t matter whether the trespasser is talking too loud in a movie theater, queue jumping, or infidelity. If I get wind of it, my evil eye indicts, judges and sentences guilty in a blink.

But the real evil eye, a cross between a teardrop and marble, bought as a gift from my husband on his recent trip from Istanbul came to me as the ornament atop a pill case along with the news that the eye is meant to provide divine protection. God is there, looking out for us, for you and for me, seeing all, staring down the evil spirits and evildoers, withering them the slightest glimpse in the name of Love.

This eye appears everywhere, in windows, on taxi dashboards, bedroom hangings, as if God wants to be present in every aspect of life. Nothing is too small to warrant the attention of the evil eye—even a tiny pillbox.

Now, far from wanting to escape the evil eye, I want to stand in front of God waving my hands until I catch notice.

“Hey God,look this way! I’m over here.” I pray I catch the evil eye.