Just this week I was reflecting on the natural desire we humans have to be seen. How much it can delight the heart to have reflected back to us, in words or even a glance, something that matches what we wish to be known about ourselves, we might even feel in that moment a resting inside and find ourselves saying to the friend, you get me. Speaking for myself, I know it makes my heart so happy when that happens, whether I am the one being seen or seeing. And while my happiness isn’t dependent upon it, it definitely leaves me drawing closer to the one on the giving or receiving end at that moment. Think about how it feels when the opposite happens, when we reveal something that is vulnerable or intimate and we are misunderstood or misperceived, it can feel very uncomfortable and provoke a wide range of emotions. The whole trajectory was prompted by a remembrance of an instance where I felt unseen by someone I loved and had hoped to be seen.

Through the day I found myself saying silently, seen and unseen, seen and unseen, seen and unseen, like a sacred mantra. The phrase felt like honey on my tongue, so sweet and so familiar. It almost became a song coming from my bones. In this resonance I was enjoying a profound sense that even in the unseen we are seen…but more about that after this short diversion.

Saying these words over and over with such familiarity threw me back into a blissful memory. It was the memory of saying the Nicene creed every day with all my heart. Those three words are a part of this longer faith statement. This creed (and of course the other iterations of creeds that articulate the Catholic belief and are the basis for being a part of the community,) had long been a source of resting for me. A place where my heart opened more and more into surrender. I can vividly recall saying the words like I was throwing myself into the unknown with every phrase. They seemed to open a portal into the discovery of my Beloved. And though I do not find a resting place in the utterance of the entire creed anymore, it does not mean that the sweetness does not still reside in my bones, as I experienced before writing this article.

No wonder the phrase felt so familiar. I started reflecting. And no wonder the familiarity, rooted in divine Essence that is not bound by any tradition, could take me into further mystery today.

It is still true to me today, seen and unseen are part of the emergence of creation. The words in the Nicene Creed come as part of the theological statement about the Eternal uncreated Source of all, the Word made Flesh, in this case, Jesus, and the mysterious third component, fully God that is called Holy Spirit. It is so delightful, ‘God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God….’ And it posits something pretty dramatic—-all that exists, seen and unseen, is existing in and from all parts of this Trinity equally. It is a testament to the simultaneous immanence and transcendence of the Eternal, all-penetrating, ineffable Source we could call God.

So the sweetness of this phrase, that used to be couched within one understanding forms part of the door to new understanding of seen and unseen as it pulls me into my own reflection of reality and the dance of seeing or being seen, and not seeing or being unseen

Now, back to the profound moment of feeling seen in being unseen. In a moment of solitude, in my own process, as I gently remembered the encounter I had where I felt unseen by someone I loved, I acknowledged to myself, It hurts to feel unseen in a moment of desiring to be seen.

And in an instant I grasped that I couldn’t be noticing this unless I was saying it from a place of seeing, or being seen (it could be phrased either way.) It was a layered revelation, and the deepest part of me rested without a resting place. Freedom.

Without formal thought, this came to me. If the eternal Essence sees all that is created, by virtue of creation being an expression of the uncreated, and thus intended and known, then we are always seen. And when we feel or notice we are unseen by some part of creation, it very well could be from the observation of the eternal that sees us. 

It feels true to me, but you will need to decide for yourself.

What follows are my musings upon various implications, I may or may not hold them as true.

Since we are, in one way, the finite expressions in a form that will pass, of Consciousness that does not pass, we are unable to fully know and see another until fully awakened. And even if we are fully awakened, I starting thinking, I am not even sure we would always see another fully, for the elements of this world contain contrasts, a seeming dance of hidden and revealed at any given moment, which, if its true, calls into question how we can talk about things we see as something true or absolute.

This can be difficult to understand for there is linear logic co-existing with cyclical multi-dimensional grasp of the nature of seeing  and being seen. 

But it is easy to bring it back down into a practical example to understand how important all of this is for us. How many times have romantic relationships failed to endure because one or the other feels unseen? Which tells me this desire or capacity or experience is very powerful for us. 

So then my next leading thought leads to this question, How can we allow this to happen for us?

I suppose it would be to awaken to this possible frame:

Each time we find ourselves to be unseen is a very powerful moment containing the potential to cast us into the arms of the eternal One. 

In this moment where I rested in being seen by the eternal within me a new set of longings or questions arose, moving entirely away from the externals, and took me intimately closer to myself, What was it I saw? What did it feel like to stay here, alone, without another human with me? What did the experience feel like? And what more is there to see of myself?

The resting with no resting place felt delightful, unassuming and certain. It felt like I was being met where I was. So I asked myself, Who or what was seeing this unseen part of me?

You can probably guess by now my own answer, it was the eternal One, not just within me like water would be in a vase, but the aspect of me that is the eternal One.

Very particular ~ of my particles, very essential ~ of my nature, wholly complete. 

This entire experience I am recounting here happened in the wake of a series of BGI sessions I had with a skilled practitioner. In the second session when she was conducting her series of energetic adjustments that work in a sophisticated way with systems and patterns that the body holds, which have innate intelligence along with stored trauma, she touched a part of my body and that part of my body experienced being seen. There was presence between the whole of me and her touch, it wasn’t her seeing me (though that very well could have been happening, because she is that good.) 

Her fingertip touched a part of my body for a number of seconds in such a way that I can only explain by personifying what happened. Her fingertip ‘saw’ me in the touch, it saw a part of me and held that part of me in such a way that the very cells felt seen and held. And the very cells opened up and responded with a surrender of what they were holding that was stored trauma from their own innate intelligence. When that happened the trauma dissolved, but it wasn’t so much about the trauma dissolving as much as the cells recovering freedom. It was another example of the kind of intimacy of the eternal One within…

Which brings me back to the beginning like Julie Andrew’s sang so well in the Sound of Music, ‘Let’s start at the very beginning…’

To see or not to see. Where does this experience take you?


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