Witness
Sometimes when I'm feeling quiet I start scavenging through my RSS reader, searching for something specific but hard to name. It's something like comfort or recognition of some kind of togetherness in the human condition. Something that will make me feel like all of us reading are somehow holding hands and murmuring, amen, at the end.
Then I think about Anne Lammot saying, Write what you wish to come upon in the world. And then I immediately wish I were in a state to do so--that I hadn't lost my appetite for words along with my appetite for food. I wish that I could muster a benediction or a compline for us, or any of the strange murmurs that pass for these things in my world these days.
All I have tonight are some things I know now, that I'm holding in my palms like sea stones, carrying in my pockets and returning to again and again as if in remembrance of something important I witnessed on the shore.
Some things can only be taken in through our bodies. Saying them, hearing them, writing them and reading them can be insufficient, especially when life sends us reeling or doubting or lost out to sea. We need to see that we are loved in each other's eyes, feel that we are not alone with our hands and arms as they find the company of another's.
Some people will always feel like home. No matter how far you travel, how many languages you learn or experiences you have along the way. Not even the passing of time, or all you have lost or gained can change this.
Being seen, being known, being understood and embraced--it doesn't get better than these.
Sunday, June 20, 2010 at 7:18PM | Share Article 11 Comments | Email Article Print Article | Permalink
Reader Comments (11)
Jen,
This is just gorgeous. I feel every word of this in my heart - I could not agree more, both with the three things you know, and with the sense of carrying things around like stones in your pocket. I've written that before, about how I worry these known things with my mind as though a stone with my fingers, reassured with the familiar shape, texture.
Thank you.
I love the image of carrying these things like stones in your pocket.
A virtual hug isn't as good as a real one, but it's something....
This is beautiful, Jen. I'm holding these things close tonight. Love you.
thank you for this beautiful and generous writing. i just wrote (again) about "being seen, being known, being understood and embraced" in my journal...the need/longing/desire for it. and i remembered your invitation once...to let yourself be seen. thank you for sharing your wisdom and exquisite storytelling. and happy summer solstice.
I love you.
On a day like today, when I am searching for words to match my feelings, I truly thank you for sharing your thoughts. Reading -out loud- that some things can only be taken in through our bodies offers me peace in a time of soulful unrest. Thank you. Thank you. I found comfort in my RSS reader today :)
today, I get this, truly
amen, amen, amen...
This is really beautiful. I recently was privileged to spend time with two friends who "felt like home." It was like getting a part of myself back that I didn't know was missing.
It makes me wonder how much of this (being seen/understood/known/embraced) is ever enough. Reading this, a part of me feels: "well maybe Jen can have that, but there will never be enough for me". And I have had it a lot in my adult life (not nearly enough as a kid) but don't know where the "enough" point is. I, too, think being seen is the best thing there is. The best.