“We do a lot of looking: we look through lenses, telescopes, television tubes….Our looking is perfect everyday– but we see less and less. Never has it been more urgent to speak of seeing… we are on-lookers, spectators….”subjects” we are, that look at “objects.” Quickly we stick labels on all that is, labels that stick once– and for all. By these labels we recognise everything but no longer see anything.”
Frederick Frank
The Zen of Seeing
Do you ever have a sneaking suspicion that the real work that you do is lived between the cracks of your life? That beyond all your planning, or working or meetings or skill, it is those inbetween moments where your real commission lies. Those moments where you stop what you are doing to see someone else. Is it not those moments of real connection, of letting someone know they are ‘seen’ by you, that hold tremendous potency and purpose?
I have spent my life looking. I would say I have perfected the art of looking. As a designer who has shaped the packaging of major fast moving consumer goods (FMCG) for most of my working life, it is second nature for me to go into any supermarket and rather than just purchase what I need, almost subconsciously take time to look at the artwork on products; the colour, the shape, the balance, the design, the uniqueness or personality of a brand. I have learnt to define my judgement of a product by how it looks. And maybe you too have refined the way you look at things; your attention to detail, your overviewing, your estimating, your assessing, your summarising, your planning, your analysing, your ranking or counting skills.
The thing is, more and more I am finding myself asking God to help me do less, to judge less, to have less pride, to speak less, to take myself less seriously, see without labels, to listen deeply, to stay openhearted and curious, to look beyond the surface level, to learn unconditional positive regard, to talk less, to be less hectic, less stressed and more in the flow. To be honest this is not something that comes naturally to me. On top of this sometimes I give God my own attributes. God, like me, has important work to get on with, God has projects, is labelling and judging and designing and balancing, analysing, assessing. God’s work is urgent and so is mine. God’s work is time consuming and so is mine. God’s work is distant, and so is mine.
Yet I can remember when I was a child when I felt completely seen and accepted for who I was by an adult. Can you? Can you dwell in the feeling or images conjured up by a memory of really being seen and recognised. If we were sharing together, stories might emerge of a grandmother showing you how tenderly she has kept priceless things you have given her; a tiny shell or small dried up fish or a precious stone, or of a teacher who really saw your giftedness in a certain field. Or if not, and some of us cannot remember being seen - you might recall feeling unseen or unheard. These moments have been there our whole lives, never forgotten, for we never forget being really seen and accepted or rejected. These moments often unfold in silence, yet we are moved to this day by their memory.
It is important to feel seen and also to see. I think Jesus knew this. Thich Nhat Hanh calls this reciprocity of presence “inter-being”. In this we are acknowledged and embraced, in this exchange we learn to believe in our own worth and show reverence for the worth of another. How can we live more as ‘inter-beings”? How can we embrace the Zen of seeing in the fullest sense of meaning - embracing, loving, laughing, weeping, adoring, caring? How can we do more of this, more often?As you read this next poem by Rachel Held Evans, take a moment to imagine, what it would feel like to come alongside God and ‘see’ from God’s perspective - not outside, somewhere distant but intimate and caring for the details of people’s lives, no longer a spectator but intertwined in every atom and every tear. Then take time to acknowledge your own sense of need to be cared for in this way. What if you really embraced a God who cares for you like this?
I think God might be a little prejudiced.
For once He asked me to join Him on a walk through this world,
and we gazed into every heart on this earth,
and I noticed He lingered a bit longer
before any face that was weeping,
and before any eyes that were laughing.
And sometimes when we passed a soul in worship,
God too would kneel down. I have come to learn:
God adores His creation.
Wholehearted Faith
Rachel Held Evans, Jeff Chu