The Gift of Seeing

my hands, my message (photo by James Simpson)

A year ago I walked into a honey-colored cabin in the New Hampshire woods and was told: Find your seat by choosing the message that speaks to you. In every place around the fireplace sat a stone about the size of my palm, each bearing a short painted phrase. About half of the seats were already taken, but I didn't have to look hard to find mine. In the second chair from the door sat a smooth charcoal-colored river rock shaped almost like an egg and almost like a heart, with these words in yellow paint: we see you.

Yes, this was my message. This was the stone that spoke to me. This was the very thing I longed for: to be seen. The secret wish of my heart has long been to feel at home in my own self, to have my outside match my inside, and for others to see past all the things that trip me up when I look in the mirror or open my mouth to speak. To me, being seen is not about being exposed or made vulnerable, although those things can certainly come with the territory. To me, being seen is all about being part of a community, being valued, being loved.

That was Squam Art Workshops 2008. I left the whole experience feeling tender, disappointed, and lonely. I wrote openly about this, not to condemn the experience, but to be honest and to make sense of it.

Then a curious thing happened. In the months following Squam, people I'd met at Squam emailed me. We became Facebook friends. We supported each others' blogs. We talked on the phone. We met up in person. It took me months to realize it, but I had made meaningful connections at Squam. I left feeling alone and defeated, only to realize half a year later that these women had seen me. And they wanted to know me. I began to suspect that I'd been the one having trouble seeing things clearly.

So I registered for S.A.W 2009. I started to get excited about seeing my friends again. (I was even looking forward to trying my hand at painting once more, but that's another story.) As the calendar closed in on September, these women started leaving me little notes online, saying things like, "Can't wait to see you in a few weeks!" And still, after months of friendship, I was astounded. Me? They wanted to see me?

I arrived at Squam Lake this year with a friend at my side and many more to embrace. I flitted and socialized. I listened and talked. I laughed in the dark woods until I almost wet myself. I did my best to see the women in front of me because this is one of the most sacred gifts we can give one another. We can look into someone's eyes when she talks. We can ask questions not just for the sake of conversation, but because we care about the answers. These basic human things are so groundbreaking precisely because they are ancient and true.

It took me a full year to believe it, but the message on my rock was more than just the wish of my heart. It was the truth of my experience. I am seen. And because of that, I have a sacred duty to return the favor.

Comments

[Heather]

I'm not sure my nodding my head in agreement again and again translates to a blog comment, but I felt much the same while I was there this year. Makes me wonder what next year might be like. So glad we got to meet!

[Eden]

Wow! What a neat experience for you! I guess for me, I am afraid to go to a retreat such as Squam because I would have all these expectations! I think that's so neat how you connected with your friends in those first "little ways". Baby steps, baby steps, i say this to reinforce it mainly for myself :)

[danielle]

Oh Jenna! Love this. Your words from High Pines, describing your SAW experience then-to-now, have been softly echoing in my head since SAW-- surfacing like velvet comfort when I feel, also, some of what you described in your 08 post. I haven't written about SAW yet b/c I am still slowly processing it all. In my privateness, it may not even make it to a post! I'm also a fringer, (could you even guess?). . . finally floating vs. sinking with it this 2009 year, and I am treasuring, treasuring, all the pearls that gleam from accepting my path on the edge. It's NOT just sand!
I am so glad I met you! xo d.

[Helen]

This is a beautiful post, Jenna......and I, too, identify strongly with so much of what you've said. Maybe if enough of us outsiders hang about on the fringe together, the fringe won't be such a lonely place to be.

[Katrina]

Thank you, Jenna. I've written almost exactly the same thing in my journal in my attempts to make sense of my SAW experience this year. You've put words to it beautifully, and I'm going to probably come back here to read this over and over again.

[Lauren]

Can I just say "Yes, exactly," and let that be that? Because yes, exactly.

[Katie]

I love this...yes, being seen is SO important. I hope to make it to Squam one of these days...until then, I'll hold onto these words and remember that we do all have a sacred duty to see one another.

[Lisa]

Another beautiful, eloquent, meaningful post, dear Jenna.

Thank you!

And, yes, I have felt 'seen' by you. What a blessing :-)

[vivienne]

Jenna...i was giddy when i heard that you might be in my cabin as i'd heard such good things about you from one of those folks who you had connected with last year. I'm so glad we got to hang out this year though i wish it could have been even more time (and that i could have given you a hug before running to my gate at the airport)!

I also want to tell your last year self how brave it was of you to go (i didn't muster up that bravery last year) and I love that you were so truthful about the experience.

[Becky]

"This was the very thing I longed for: to be seen. The secret wish of my heart has long been to feel at home in my own self, to have my outside match my inside, and for others to see past all the things that trip me up when I look in the mirror or open my mouth to speak. To me, being seen is not about being exposed or made vulnerable, although those things can certainly come with the territory. To me, being seen is all about being part of a community, being valued, being loved."

That is my longing too, Exactly.

[Leisa Hammett]

Wow. This is beautiful. I found ur blog 2day on someone's site. JenLee, perhaps? I'm glad I did. I'm earmarking. And btw, I'm a writer, too. Love the way you explained ur business. A year ago when I started my blog, I did so with another writer friend who wanted to explain what she wanted to do in her writing business. We never came up with a catchy title and she moved on to other work. But, 2day, I sent her a link to your writing cellar....And, btw, I'm subscribing. Something I do oh so selectively. Namaste,

[darlene]

you are so beautiful and i have to admit i was a bit intimidated by you, its true but you put me at such ease with your smile and the way you looked into my eyes ... i am so grateful to have met you this year ... xo

[Liz]

Love this piece Jenna, love the feel of you walking the fullness of a full circle, and completing it so beautifully...

[stef]

So good to see you here and to have met you this year. I hope we cross paths again ...xoxo

[Kate]

Hi Jenna,
I just wanted to say thank you-- I loved having classes with you at Squam, having you there made me feel more at ease even though we do not know one another. I think being seen, truly, is both something that I long for and fear. I am much more comfortable with various levels of invisibility and translucency. Going to Squam this year for my first time was a dare in a way, OK kate, be seen. Be present. And it was both difficult and wonderful. I am still processing it, still writing and painting and taking joy in remembering the connections I made, and am happy to have been in such a beautiful place at such an important time. Giving myself permission to make ugly things was great cross training for writing, but I am still knotted up in my writing projects. I hope to loosen my grip a little and let them untangle.

Thanks again for your warmth and encouragement. I hope our paths cross again in the future.
warmly,
Kate