Can You See Me?

I had the privilege to speak at a friend’s installation this month in Morganville, NY.  It was in a little white church in a perfect little town with a horse farm across the road.  Many people came to celebrate the occasion. 

When it was my turn, I made my way up to the pulpit and as always, I stood a little on tip-toe because I am short in height, just about 5 feet, and I looked out at the congregation and smiled and said,  “Can everyone see me?”  There were smiles back at me and a gentle chuckle from the group.  I continued to share how I knew this pastor and I read a poem from Billy Collins, one of my favorite poets.

Afterwards I sat back down and was very relieved that all went well.  You see, I have some performance anxiety and although I have always been in a public eye, so to speak, I have always preferred to stand back from an audience.  People might think just the opposite of me as they see me in various public arenas, on the pulpit,  the opinion page, and especially now in social media, where I love to share my life experiences and “chat” with friends and family. 

But can “you see me?”  I thought about this comment that got the chuckle and began to hear a deeper question seeking a deeper meaning.  “Can you really see me?”  Do you know who I am?  Do any of us know our sacred stories?  There seems to be fear about sharing what’s at our core self, and yet I think sometimes that is what is most important in “seeing” one another.  It’s when I tell my story that you can begin to really see me. And when you tell your story, I begin to really see you.  I think sometimes that if more of us had this opportunity there wouldn't be so much anxiety, animosity, or misunderstandings.  And perhaps there would not be so many lonely people in the world.

I think about some of the words from the Billy Collins’ poem I read:

This is the best kind of love, I thought,

Without recompense, without gifts,

Or unkind words, without suspicion,

Or silence… 

(Aimless Love, in the book, Nine Horses)