I used to write and mail old-fashioned letters. In fact, those letters bonded my relationship with the young woman I eventually married. Our correspondence helped us feel seen. She sent mixtape cassettes with songs curated for me, arriving in pastel and perfumed envelopes. My dreary boarding house bedroom brightened as I opened each one. And there were many. But here is what made those letters real. All the correspondence back and forth only came to life when the 1800 miles disappeared. There is nothing like being physically present with people. No amount of snail mail or online social networking bonds us like a meal, a walk, or chat over a fire pit. Being seen requires proximity.
But do we still know what it’s like to be seen? I don’t mean social media likes or comments or people noticing you at work when you arrive with new shoes or a haircut. The kind of seen I am talking about is who we are inside our own skin, unfiltered by fear of what people may say or think. Each of us edits our embarrassing parts from public view. We are uncomfortable when those parts crop up too much, so we prefer the distraction of media, or anything that keeps us from contemplating the wounds our lives acquire from daily living.
Should we self-reflect more? Maybe the traumas of childhood frighten us. They lay underneath, peeking through the facades and fables we construct to hide. These hurts often drive achievement, so we learn early in life how to channel pain rather than feel it. Dehumanizing as it may be, we keep plugging along. Every so often, the feeling arises that it would be much better to be seen. Fully seen. But then we get busy, pushing aside such thoughts. It is no wonder we feel alone amid the crowd.
Artists and creative people can teach us how to be seen because we learn much about who we are when we create. Such things as songs, stories, and paintings reveal much about us, regardless of why we make them. When we create, we simply use the surrounding material right in front of us. The failures, along with the wins, all fill the same reservoir. We can’t help this. And we shouldn’t, either. The messiness of artistic endeavors proves our humanity. The faults and cracks in humans make for great art. Honesty about our humanity impacts others more than manipulated craft. One is art. The other is propaganda. One is analog. The other is digital, AI, and cut and pasted.
I love this passage in the New Testament when the writer proves his authority with something better than cold artifacts. “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by all…written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets that are human hearts.” (2 Corinthians 3:2-3). No ink, no stone tablets, and no social media posts with likes and shares. People are the proof of who we are. And to know this we must be present and seen.
So, being seen means you carry with you the investment of those around you. If they are the real deal, your inner life will reflect it. When you see negativity and self-doubt, where does that come from? What our creativity does is read these letters. Our letters. We are living letters. And we tell heart-published stories when we make things. So, keep creating…
PS. Please check out my new book, MINDBLOWN, to help you find and grow your creativity.