TO BE SEEN OR NOT TO BE SEEN…THAT IS THE QUESTION

Clearly it was the beginning of the end.  She lay in the sand, confused, scared, longing for answers, wondering how it came to this.  Needing to be known and seen in this desperate hour.

I sat next to her, with no solution.  Nothing to offer.  Except the very most important thing: to be with her.

Penny once stood tall, her palomino hair bringing warmth to her body and beauty to the landscape.  Her mane and tail would glimmer, like a crown of gold set rightly in place above a strong stance, calm spirit, and a knowing way.  She was a leader in the herd, a horse who could sense what was needed in any given time and could be relied upon to respond accordingly.  The others trusted her without question.

On this, her last of days, she had succumbed to a neurological invader, an unexpected thief who stole that which is so central to the horse: her ability to feel, place, and direct her limbs.  In a matter of hours, she lost control of her back hindquarters.  Though her hooves would step, the steps were irregular, out of control, ineffective…and there was no way for her to regain what was lost.

For a horse this must have been devastating.  As prey animals, horses rely heavily on their flight response in the face of danger.  If there is a lion lurking in the grass, they will run.  Running away from danger equals safety.  And above all, prey animals must remain safe.

When I stepped carefully through the arena sand to the place where she lay, she briefly glanced up at me, before fixating her gaze back behind her.  I tried, to no avail, to redirect her gaze back to me.  I needed the connection, the comfort of her soft eyes.  And yet, she continued staring, as if I hadn’t arrived.

I could feel the connection between us, the heaviness in her spirit.  As I watched her, I realized that she was communicating to me in the way she knew how: with her body.  She was not avoiding me, but rather was deeply present with me.

Slowly, I understood.  The fixated gaze was meant to communicate her need.  More than to solve it, her need was for me to see it.  To be seen and known…that is what she needed.  With quiet words, I let her know that I saw.  I saw her, her confusion and desperation.  I saw her hip and knew even just a piece of the devastation that this meant for her.

Once I recognized and saw, then and only then, did she turn her eyes to me.  I could see so much in those eyes.  It was like a life playing back, of partnership and care; it was confusion and pain; it was the knowing that she must accept the reality here in this day.

She used much of her remaining strength to stand.  With difficulty and imbalance, she tried to walk.  She would face me, then somehow turn herself around so that I could see her hip.  This time, I understood right away.  “I see it, Penny.  I see it, and I’m so sorry.”  Again, as soon as I acknowledged and saw, she would face me again.  Penny made her way over to my son, and played out the same progression.  With tears in his eyes, he too acknowledged and saw her.

Every time we would recognize and tell her that we saw, she would turn back around to face us.  That day, Penny gave me a parting gift.  Well, one of many, actually.  This particular gift, packaged in the conflicting suffering and love and connection she offered, showed me how very deep our need to be seen runs.

It is inherent.  We are made to be seen, and to be known.  We are not made to walk through this life in isolation, disconnected from others or from ourselves.  No, instead we are made for connection.  Being seen, having our experience be known, our pain witnessed, our joys shared is all a part of connection.

I have understood the healing power of letting the deepest parts of me be seen before this.  Being seen brought validation to my life experience, to my struggles and my strengths.

But I didn’t understand how foundational that need is.  For all of the living.  It was foundational for Penny, and it remains a true need for you and I as well.

To not be seen and known is inextricably linked to ongoing depression, anxiety, PTSD, isolation, social anxiety, loneliness, and disconnection.  To not be seen perpetuates our suffering.

To be seen or not to be seen, that is the question.

Being seen isn’t always easy.  It can feel vulnerable, scary, sad.  But being seen in a healthy relationship is also good, and freeing.  And, its necessary on our pathway toward living a wholehearted life.

I share with you the story of her parting gift to me, in the hopes that it may awaken in you the same recognition it did in me.   We have a deep need for having our lives seen and known. 

If you’d like to continue this conversation, take a step for yourself and schedule an introductory call with Healing Reins.  We are here, ready and waiting to walk with you on your journey ahead.