Truly remarkable to be seen

I was surprised and pleased by the response I got to Friday’s post, which honestly felt to me like a bit of a cop-out when I wrote it.  “Wrote” being a euphemism, of course, because I did more photo uploading than anything.  No big aha or any insight at all, even.  Just a couple of snapshots – literally, from my iphone – of my ordinary life.

And then Tanya wrote this in her comment:

What you have just managed to do here, and what your readers are clearly connecting with, is that joy is everywhere. And it is a worthwhile exercise to take stock. Now. Not later. Now.

I responded to her and said thank you, that her words made me cry.  And she wrote right back with these words, whose kindness is so tangible I feel it radiating off the page even now:

The way you find the time and space to notice joy IS joy to me. And YOU are joy, because you are love.

And I replied, again, saying “The thing is I’m not really aware of noticing it until people (like you) point it out. Thank you.”  And Tanya, ever wise, ever steady, ever there, answered:

Truly remarkable to be seen, isn’t it?

Yes, yes, it is.  I’ve written about this over and over, I realize.  Some themes just emerge, gradually and of their own volition, from the morass of my writing.  Others come to me in a single flash of awareness, like shook foil or lightning, and they are suddenly so true it’s impossible to imagine living without them. 

Being seen, known, acknowledged is a central desire of mine.  Feeling safe is an aching need, deep inside me, one that I’ve only recently realized has gone largely unmet.  As recently as last week I mused on this: “A critical task of our lives is to truly see those we love for who they are, even when that means accepting that there are mysteries inside of them that we will never understand.  To release them from the cage of what we so desperately want them to be, so that they may flourish into who they are.”

Tanya’s words reminded me of all of this, over again.  I feel so intensely grateful for those few people in this world who have really seen me.  Who have seen me and met me with compassion instead of expectation or an agenda of their own.  Who have seen me in my sometimes-contradictory confusion and recognized it for what it is: the kaleidoscope of a person.  Who have patiently walked beside me, often in silence, as I traverse these roads.

I’m incredibly privileged to have known a handful of these people, and they know who they are.  Thank you.

11 thoughts on “Truly remarkable to be seen”

  1. So well said, Lindsey. I wonder if ultimately, this is what we all want…to be seen, to be known and loved.

    Your musings and your incredible gift for spinning felt sense into a golden stream of words holds a space for all of us- a space where we are buoyed by a connection to you, to ourselves and to a great open sea of love, compassion and wonder. What a rare gift you bring to this world.

    Many thanks.

  2. And when you wonder what you have to give your kids, think about the gift of being seen. Because it is indeed a gift. And you see them. One of the first posts I read of yours was about seeing Grace with all her sharp and angled elbows and knees struggling to manage the emotion you recognized to the depths of your soul. You see her. You see Whit. Maybe in ways you were never seen. We use our wounds as medicine. We find healing in giving others what we most need. We see you, the whole of your beautiful, ever-changing kaleidoscope — and you see them. And it is joy. And it is enough.

  3. I, too was at the Mother’s Plunge in Boston and I celebrated it with my friend, Meg Casey. I recently came across your blog and I wanted to relay to how beautiful your writing was / is. If I had known I would have come up and introduced myself to you. That day was a lovely day to be amongst such extraordinary women, Jena, Meg and you. I love, love your writing. Please revisit your novel it has an audience waiting to read it.

    Warmest Regards,
    Trish

    Patricia Dolan
    patriciadolan@comcast.net

  4. I remember the moment I realized my husband saw me and loved me anyway. Your words, as always are beautiful signs pointing the way ever deeper into ourselves.

  5. Pingback: live and love in the world | Cleavage by Kelly Diels.
  6. Wow. This blog is such a gift! Thank you!

    I have never met Katrina but her books have changed my life. They inspired me to find Waldorf and Rolf Gates and to be a different kind of mother – one more connected to what is happening now than to what schools we need to attend later or about what others are thinking. Of course, I fail at this every single day, but Katrina’s books and words inspire me to keep trying.

    Your blog is also exceedingly special and it’s a relief to read. You give your readers permission to be themselves!

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