Everyone is looking at me from the lens of their own experience.
Each with their own unique way of seeing me, or not seeing me at all.
It’s an artistic and creative way to understand the human connection—to know that you are not the same to everyone. All those who get the chance to encounter your essence will have an interpretation of who you are. It’s like a human museum of art where each one provokes different senses and feelings within those who decide to take the time to look. They get to fill in their own blanks and the words they sub in are not mine but rather the vocabulary of their past I just get to witness.
Something about this idea is so comforting—to know that I am never the same and always see my reflection of myself through the experience of others while others also experience themselves through me. Nothing has to be taken seriously but rather can be fun. Maybe even the scary part is that there is a consciousness in humans that has a way of creating a story behind the sensations of connection.
Sometimes the stories ask us to pay attention and enter the chapter with curiosity and a sense of wonder; other times it’s a distraction from what we know to be our truth, allowing it to take over our experience with a fog or mask of what we think it should be.
In the moments when we get swept into the distraction, we can no longer make a solid and truthful interpretation of the experience that we are having. It becomes a story of control, a story of confusion, and cycles of trying to erase something that doesn’t actually exist. The comfort that comes from this is in the recognition that I am not the only one, the only human who has moments of fog and complete loss of clarity when those glasses get placed over my eyes. The comfort comes from the compassion that I can have not just for myself but for those who also encounter the moments of putting on unwanted frames that hold tinted lenses.
Everyone sees me from their own perspective, which then raises the question: Does anyone see me the way that I see myself? Does anyone truly see me or is there a state of fundamental aloneness that we as humans experience knowing that there are aspects of our being that may not ever be fully witnessed? Can every part of us ever be fully seen? And if so, do we consider it to be seen when it is not from the lens of love?
I have a way of always being able to tap into my inner state of loneliness. I can never figure out why the idea of loneliness and not being understood is sometimes painful and sometimes comforting because the time that I spend with myself is also the time that I feel the most seen for the parts of me that others may never fully appreciate or be able to receive. I think of the traits that I carry and the perspectives that I tend to have—the ability for me to have a sense of knowing and a higher perspective that I find gets foggier in the presence of others. It’s like I lose myself when I am not being fully witnessed or actively exercising the muscles I know that I have with a sense of appreciation, and so sometimes it’s easier for me to go back into hibernation and try again next season or at least give myself the chance to come back to whom I know myself to be.
There are parts of me that my heart wishes the world could see, or even begin to understand, and to be honest, those closest to me don’t even always have the capacity to do that. This is always my sign to retreat back to myself. To go where I know I will be witnessed, and that is always in the presence of myself.
So yes, people will always see what they are willing to see and appreciate what they have the capacity to receive. But not everyone will notice the subtle parts of you that are the most extraordinary. Something that I love about me is that I can find a sense of love and purpose in everyone. I can be excited and I am always inspired to nudge someone in the direction of their fullest experience and expression—to cheer them on and be happy for them when they are happy and even be in love with them when my interaction may not be so joy-filled.
My greatest gift may be subtle and may not be realized to everyone right away. It may be annoying to others—those who aren’t ready to receive the expression of my truth and love through the voice of appreciation for who they are even when who they are may not always be in alignment with what is best for me.
I’ve learned that my gift is that my magic is subliminal. It is mysterious and energetically silent in the moment. It isn’t until later and until my retreat that others become aware of the potency of what I had offered them. I find this refreshing and, of course, comforting because nobody will ever see me the same way, but their experience of me will always offer them a piece of love that they didn’t know they needed until they are ready to receive it.
To those who do see a visceral and physical way to live out your purpose, just know that your purpose may not lie in your ability to get a job, be a coach, or build a business. It may just lie in your ability to stand in the power of allowing others to create their own experience and venture into themselves. Your closest friends and family may never be able to fully appreciate you or even fully see the gift of what you channel into your purpose, but it is irrelevant; your purpose is to live and to find yourself in the comfort of your own heart knowing that you don’t need to be fully seen by anyone but yourself. You are many different things to many different people. At the core, it’s all the same. It’s you.