(image taken and poster created by Lee Horbachewski, quote from my book, Love It Forward)
Dear Reader,
Susan Frybort and I have been discussing the meaning of being seen. Given the image-obsessed nature of social media, this discussion couldn’t have come at a better time.
When I was felled by an adverse reaction to prescriptions last autumn, I was forced to slow down and really see myself. Not see myself as I imagined myself to be, but see myself in all respects. I saw the accomplishments, but I also saw the mistakes along the way. I saw the internalized shame, and I saw the internalized self-regard. I saw the patterns that empowered me, and the patterns that disabled me. I watched as my personas—even those I imagined to be irrefutably authentic—fell away, and I was left with the raw truth of the soul that lived below them. And I saw that words—even those I am using right now—cannot even begin to capture all that we are, and all that this is. There is so much more going on below our adaptations and disguises than meets the eye. Worlds upon worlds…
I wondered why it took a medical challenge to slow me down enough to see all of this. I mean, its all there, waiting for me, and yet I have lived so far away from it. Some part of that has to do with how I (and we) survive this still mad world. Too vigilant to be vulnerable. Too protected to be revealed. I know you understand what I mean.
We often talk about wanting to be seen, but do we actually see ourselves? How deep does our in-sight actually go? And, when granted the opportunity to show something of ourselves to another, how much do we reveal? How much can we bare? How much can they ‘bear’? Given the overwhelm of trauma and (emotional) armour that our species has accumulated, how close can any one, or any two+ of us, get to the bare-bones truth of our perfectly imperfect inner worlds? And what will become of our species, if we can’t slow down enough to know ourselves and each other? How can we restore ourselves if we don’t really know ourselves in intimate detail? How can we craft a world that honours our humanity if we aren’t connected to it?
There was a time when I was doing personal sessions with people who wanted nothing more than to feel seen. They didn’t want to talk—because words somehow camouflaged their original face. They wanted to sit in silence, make eye contact, feel embraced and accepted by another’s gaze. It was brave, healing, and incredibly uncomfortable. Not simply because of whatever external judgments we associated with being seen, but because of our own resistance to remembering ourselves.
We often look in the mirror in order to see how we will look to others. In other words, to appraise how it is that we will be judged by the world. And yet, if we can slow down long enough to really see and accept ourselves—the mirror as a self-explorative depth charge—we will then reach a place where we can actually see each other. Not see each other in curated Instagram posts (God help us all 😊), but see each other for reals. I suspect that the more we reveal to ourselves and each other, the less we will judge ourselves and each other. The shame-perpetuating cycle of self-hatred will slowly become a thing of the past, as we come to realize that we are actually far less interested in masking than in basking in the glory of our shared humanness. It’s not all light in there, to be sure, but it is a treasure trove of wonder nonetheless. And its the place where life is truly lived.
In the week(s) to come, I invite you to find some time to go deeper into your own revealing. Turn off the addictive (and performative) devices. Turn away from the manipulative news cycle and the latest crisis of someone else’s making. Forget all the celebrities that you have been conditioned to worship. They are never more interesting than you. Put on music that feels safe and inviting. Go to the mirror, or the yoga mat, or anywhere you damn please, and invite your remarkable soul out of hiding. Slow the whole thing right down, and give every part of you all the attention it deserves. There’s a world in there with your name on it. It’s yours for the seeing.