The Eyes are a Window to the Soul (and the liver, and the spleen…)

There’s some information that’s been rattling around in my brain and I’m simply not going to be satisfied until I check it out for myself.  It’s going to involve a road trip to Amish country and some uncomfortable staring, but it has to happen.  You see, the other night when my friend and I were at The Art Mill painting roosters we started talking to the other women in attendance.  You know how women are, we gab.  One topic lead to another and another and before I knew it we were talking about a mystical Amish man in Kentucky.  Seems that one lady painter was worried because her mother kept taking trips to Kentucky to see “Reuben” who could gaze into her eyes and diagnose her health issues.  He’d provide advice and also any herbs he thought might help.  The painter lady thought her mother was being scammed and told her so.  Her mother revealed that Reuben doesn’t charge for his services.  Huh?  So painter lady and her sister thought they’d just go see Reuben for themselves and expose him as a fraud, even though their mother was happy, not losing any money, and healthier than she’d ever been.  They still thought he was a witch doctor.  Off to Kentucky they went.  Since Reuben is Amish and doesn’t use telephones or computers, you have to write to him for an appointment.  He’ll still see you as a walk-in, but you may have quite a wait.  Painter lady and her sister were able to see him and to make a long story short, they were amazed when Reuben looked into their eyes and correctly diagnosed a heart condition that Painter Lady already knew she had and told the other that she had an ovarian cyst (which turned out to be true as well).  By this point in her story I was all ears.  I love stuff like this.  She stated that Reuben never tells anyone not to follow their doctor’s orders, but does provide common sense advice pertaining to nutrition and herbal supplements.  This was when she stopped and in her soft, southern voice reminded us that Reuben isn’t a real doctor…to which I responded that I’d certainly draw the line at a pelvic exam, but I wouldn’t mind him gazing into my eyes.  My joke fell flat.  Southern women just don’t get me.  Apparently pelvic exams are not a joking matter.  Anyway - shortly after I returned home with this information bubbling in my brain, Matt called.   Matt is a lot like me when it comes to stuff like this…his first response is usually, “Want to try it?”  As I excitedly spilled out everything I’d learned, Matt said “I have his address.”  Seems that as I gushed about the Amish eye looker Matt had googled him.  If you search for “Ruben the Amish doctor” you’ll find stuff.  He practices Iridology which is an ancient science/alternative medicine in which the practitioners believe that the iris of the eye can reveal health issues.  The eye is divided into sections (much like those hand and foot charts you’ve seen) and different areas represent different organs and issues.  A black spot means one thing, a yellowing means another, white marks are something else…and Reuben Schwartz is supposedly the master of this art.  Now I’ll go on record as saying that I believe in very little.  I’m very skeptical unless you’re talking about garden fairies, witches, the healing power of chocolate, and the love of my husband.  I know those are real.  Probably ghosts, too.  But I’ve rolled my eyes at many a doctor, teacher, preacher, and politician who claimed to know it all.  None of us know it all, the world is a great, big, mysterious place and a closed mind is a terrible thing.  Besides, I like to be spooked a little bit.  You can miss out on a lot of fascinating knowledge if you live in denial of things you don’t understand.  You can also miss out on a road trip to Kentucky to let an Amish guy stare into your eyes and tell you what ails ya’.   Why on Earth would I want to miss that?  Taking a peek at the calendar, I’m thinking a weekend in March would be just perfect.  I’ve already mentioned it to the mister who is used to my hare-brained ideas. He bought a ticket for this crazy train back in ‘84.  I could see his wheels turning and pinpointed the moment when he realized that he could probably take some nice photographs up in Amish country.  It’s just two hours away and is probably a lovely drive.  It might all be worth it just to jot down “Reuben the Amish doctor” as my primary care physician.