David White, MD
It was a long climb up out of the valley and my legs ached under the weight of my backpack. Though I still had plenty of water, “topping off” my containers at the stream crossing provided the perfect excuse to rest. I squatted at the stream’s edge and tossed the end of the filter tube into the clear pool. The reflection of the trees on the water’s surface wobbled as the float splashed in. I began the monotonous process of lifting and pressing the water filter handle over and over. As clean water trickled into my Nalgene, my eyes drifted taking notice of the mico-universe surrounding my boots. There was brilliant green moss cloaking the dark rocks that directed the water’s flow into a crystal arch, falling into a gentle gurgle below; a leaf floating, stuck in a timeless spin; a tiny insect returning home from its work at the water’s edge, ascending a fallen stick like a grand staircase. What struck me at that moment was that this little fragment of beauty that I paused to notice existed before I got there and would continue when I left. The water would flow, moss would die and give new birth, insects would come and go, and seasons would transform. Though I was thankful and pleased to have taken notice at this moment, I was acutely aware of how its beauty and function did not require me to take notice for it to be and continue as such.
The Human Difference
You and I, on the other hand, are not this way. Connection through relationships is central to who we are. One of our deepest longings is to know and be known— to matter. To be noticed, seen for who we are and how we are, accepted, affirmed, and dignified. Like food, air, and water, this is vital for life. And while there is much that can be said regarding why we need a relationship or what good relationship looks like, I was recently reminded how important simply looking at one another is. Seems obvious enough, right? We press our children to look at people when they are talking to them. We notice and praise the interpersonal skills of individuals who are able to maintain eye contact during conversation. We consider it rude or at least feel the awkwardness of those who avoid eye contact. According to author and leadership consultant Carol Kinsey Gorman, experts generally agree that a healthy and comfortable conversation is one where eye contact is maintained between 30-60% of the time—most of which occur when one is listening, less when speaking. In other words, we’ve learned to look at each other without actually looking at each other! Why? Well, because it is so wonderfully and terribly intimate and vulnerable to have someone look directly into our eyes.
Looking Through a New Lens
My own personal reminder of this recently was while my son (now 24) and I were talking with a longtime family friend who has spent decades as an executive coach. He was talking to us about the idea of being “present” in a relationship. He asked us to turn and look into one another’s eyes and hold our gaze there. We did so but could not help but giggle at our own uneasiness. I realized in those 30 seconds how little I have looked into my son’s eyes as a human peer—a moment where I was seeing him and he was seeing me in the context of simply knowing one another, here and now. Yes, I had long ago mastered looking at him as a father— to provide care, instruction, and discipline; sharing many moments of laughter, play, and joking where our eyes made the passing connection. But to pause for the simple purpose of seeing and being seen was far more intimate and vulnerable. We were both unmasked and uncomfortable, but it was a taste of position-less love. I shared with my wife later that all I could think of as I broke through the discomfort of being looked at was, “He is so beautiful.” I really saw him, but also felt the joy of being seen.
A Daily Pause
He and I have done this several times since and I have suggested to my wife that she and I should do the same daily— a 30-second pause to stare directly into one another’s eyes— just to say, “I see you today.” We too giggled for the first 20 seconds the first time we tried. Amazing that after 30 years of marriage something so simple can feel so vulnerable. I’ve considered the value of this in other important relationships too – my other sons, my parents, friends, etc. I have to admit, when I consider doing so, I find it a little scary in nearly every case.
British writer C.S Lewis notes, “We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words— to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.” There is no greater beauty than to look into the eyes of another and truly see and dignify who is there. A willingness to be seen in return is what unites us. Perhaps this has never been more important than today. Try it!
