Reflections…

Do you know what it feels like to be seen?  That wonderful exchange between you and a gracious friend or loved one, who really steps outside their own experience to see you in yours, do you know what I mean?

One of my teachers at one of my programs, James Flaherty, asked me an intense question once.  He asked, have you noticed how many people in our world are doing out of the ordinary things, just for the sake of being seen?  His examples were about recent Olympians who had felt like if they didn’t win gold, all would be for not.  And, I extended this notion, what about people who misbehave?  For example, sometimes criminals seem to me to be just acting out for the attention they perhaps did not receive as a child.  What about the loud, obnoxious person in a restaurant, about which we always say, “Oh, ignore him, he just wants attention.”  Yes!  That’s exactly what he wants, and perhaps a question we could ask ourselves is why someone needs attention so badly that they must act in uncomfortable or inappropriate ways to receive it.

I’m still reading Chögyam Trungpa’s Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior, and in it Trungpa states, “A great deal of chaos in the world occurs because people don’t appreciate themselves.  Having never developed sympathy or gentleness towards themselves, they cannot experience harmony or peace within themselves, and therefore, what they project to others is also inharmonious and confused.”

In my opinion, Trungpa is talking about the ability to “see” ourselves.  If we can see our own successes and pains, we have the ability to appreciate and be gentle with ourselves, and then we can give this loving gift to others.

I travel to big cities often, which I enjoy immensely.  However, I have a hard time when I am approached by someone begging for money.  Perhaps no where was this harder for me than one time when I was in France.  Being approached by someone asking for a hand-out in another language is rather interesting because you think you won’t know what they are asking of you, but there is a universal nature that one cannot miss to this sad question.  A woman with distant eyes and disheveled hair approached me.  I remember being haunted by the fact that her eyes would not meet mine, even though I was intently searching her gaze for some connection.  She was young and frail, and I was concerned for her safety on the streets.  She had a way of addressing me that suggested she was entitled to my handout.  I remember being frustrated by this, and even more so because I gave her something (I think it was my leftover food, but I can’t remember), and she moved on quickly past me to ask another passerby the same question.  Later, I happened to be walking down the street, likely out of a different shop, and she approached me as she had before.  I looked at her again for recognition, and I started to explain that I had already given her something.  My French however, is not that good on the fly, and I was afraid I would state “I give” instead of that I already had, so I kept silent.  Again, I searched her gaze for some recognition, I was naively even hoping for a thank you, and at a minimum an acknowledgement that I didn’t need to be asked again.  But, she gave neither and this time realizing I was not worth her time, pushed past me to get to someone else.  It was awful, I felt used.  I felt sad that I wanted to see her so badly, and yet she did look back to see me trying to do so.

A few years have passed and as I was reading Trungpa’s quote it occurred to me that that moment wasn’t about me.  In other words, she did not intentionally dismiss me.  Instead she likely could not see me, because she could not see herself.  I don’t know anything about this woman beyond what I wrote above, and still I hurt for her.  To me her pain was so palpable it was in the air, like a taste.  I thought that with my one glance I could give her some dignity in my acknowledgement, my seeing of her as a fellow human, if even for a brief moment.  In some ways that is a noble intention on my part, however it is also embarrassingly arrogant.  Why did I think I could give her what she needed, when she was not able to take my gift?  And why did I think I knew what she needed?  I’m looking inside for those answers…

Have you had experiences of being seen, either being seen by yourself, or by another?  What are the elements necessary to make it a loving exchange, do you think?

Note:  I originally published this post on www.depthpsychologytoday.com on March 1, 2009.

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