As I shared last week, I am now participating in Five-Minute-Fridays, a virtual flash mob for writers. My friend Claire, a wonderful blogger herself, got me hooked on this last week.
Here are the rules:
1. Write for five minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.
2. Link back to Lisa Jo Baker’s blog with the rest of the Five Minute Friday-ers.
3. Comment on the person who linked up before you.
This week’s word is SEE. I saw it this morning and have not stopped thinking about it all day. I just started the clock so here we go.
I want to be able to see myself as others see me. I want to have a view that looks past what is so obvious to my eyes – my big nose, crooked teeth, the rolls that have developed in places I would prefer them not to be. I want to see deeper into me. I want to see a reflection that stares back at me that resembles what others see when they look at me. I want to see the radiance. The joy. The beauty. I want to see what my husband sees when he looks at me and remembers the girl he fell in love with. I want to see what my closest friends observe when they sit across a table from me and we pour our hearts out to one another. When they look in my eyes and see my happiness or are struck by my pain. I want to see the energy, the enthusiasm, the vivid landscape of colors that I provide to them but I remain blind to.
I looked at some photos of myself over the weekend. I struggled at first. They were very lovely pictures of me and some were better than others. But they all told a story about me that I could not read. I spoke to my friend who studied the same photos and shared with me imagery and narrative about what he saw and WHO he saw when he looked at them. After I put down the phone, I stared into the eyes of the woman in the pictures and tried to see her. I forced myself to look past all the familiar flaws, all the shortcomings that I generally observe. I pushed past what showed up in my mind when I looked with my eyes and I tried to look with my friend’s eyes. I tried to look with my husband’s eyes. I tried to look with my children’s eyes who see a woman who they love. The woman who gave them life. The woman who protects them and loves them endlessly. I tried to borrow their vision to see.
And, for the first time, I was able to SEE me.