Being Seen

I crossed paths once with a board member at a non-profit I was working with. We ran into each other in town. When I saw him, we both stopped, and I said, “It’s good to see you!” 

He responded, “It’s good to be seen.” 

That made me pause—people don’t always say that exactly.

And then he said, “When you get to an age like me, you’re just glad that you can be seen.” 

We chatted for a bit longer. And then before I left, I said, “I do see you,” and I touched his arm. 

His response that day made me think of Avatar, when they greet each other. In Na’vi they say, “oel ngati kameie.” It means, “I see you. I understand you. I acknowledge you.” As they say this, they gesture with their hand from their forehead and then gently point toward the person.

The simplest gesture. The most profound statement. 

I see who you are, here before me. I see who you want to be. I see what you wish for in this world.

Many of us long to be seen. We want those close to us to know us. To know what makes us tick. To know what we dream about. What we wish for. Have you ever been with someone who does not see you?

That’s not a good feeling.

 Hannah Kent wrote a beautiful phrase in her novel The Good People, “How hidden the heart…how frightened we are of being known, and yet how desperately we long for it.”

 Who in your life is longing to be regarded, to be seen?

 Your child? Your spouse? Someone you work with? A friend you haven’t talked to in a while?

 I was in a mixed tennis match recently with a partner I have only played with twice. We do well on the court together. My groundstrokes are a solid match for his volleys. I found myself thinking in the middle of this match, “I don’t really know this guy. I don’t know what he does for work. I don’t know if he has a family, or children. I don’t know where he grew up.” 

 We don’t talk much, but we play together as if we do.

 This partner is a bit quiet, can seem a bit aloof—but then again, so do I. I thought, “Maybe he likes it that way. He likes being a mystery. Maybe I don’t need to know those things.” 

 It is as if—as my grandmother used to say, in front of God and everybody—that he stands in the shadows. 

 But perhaps that is how he likes it.

 I do that myself sometimes. I am an introvert, the kind of person that does not feel the need to talk to you if we run into each other in an elevator. I am happy not to engage. In those moments, I am happy to blend into the walls. It’s exhausting sometimes to be in this crazy world. Sometimes, it’s easier to be an observer—to watch others and the world around me. When I want to emerge, I do.

 Who do you know who lurks in the shadows in your life?

 Who is there who might really wish to be seen?

 Perhaps today you might see them. Or perhaps you might truly be seen yourself.