Finding the Spark of Soul
Seeing and Understanding with Great Gusto
I struggle deeply with seeing and understanding others. I don’t listen in the way I’d like to because I fall into the trap of excitement about a story I’d like to tell or a desire to impress my conversation partner. There are so many distractions from seeing people at this soul level. I think in our individualistic society, we have come to feel like if we don’t see and understand ourselves, no one else will, and we may not be wrong. We have been taught that we can meet all our needs, perform self-care, and re-parent ourselves. We needn’t trust anyone else or burden anyone else. I had the opportunity to chat with
the other day. When she mentioned that everyone is writing a memoir, it hit me how much we long to be seen and understood and how often this is an unmet need. Our tendency toward self-centeredness is definitely a barrier to both seeing and being seen.We also struggle to see and understand each other because we expect people to be only one thing, both in role and identity–doctor, mom, teacher, artist, gardener–but also in virtues and vices. We are good or bad, mean or kind, loud or quiet, creative or practical, joyful or sorrowing. However, we are all many things in different ratios in various situations.
wrote this week about a strategy she uses to manage her sensitivity. Instead of ignoring information she receives about the energy of another, she tries to focus on the energy until she can find their inner treasure, a “beautiful kernel” within them. This is a great strategy both for making sensitivity less overwhelming and uncomfortable, but also as a starting point for seeing the spark of someone’s soul.
Beyond our self-focus and reducing a person to one trait, there are other obstacles to finding that spark. Of course, there are phones, but they are small potatoes compared to what they cover, a deep need for distraction, to avoid what is, to avoid presence, to avoid unpleasant feelings. Any other addiction would be similar, but I notice myself reaching for my phone more than food, alcohol, work, exercise, or other avoidance mechanisms I have used in the past. Perhaps, that is how deeply knowing someone ties together with the suffering piece. In my desire to avoid suffering, I distract myself with all manner of things, and in doing so, avoid genuine bids for connection that may result in being seen and understood and seeing and understanding others.
Fr. Richard Rohr was speaking recently about how in the West we view suffering as a punishment rather than a part of life that is inevitable and in many cases necessary for growth. I am still making sense of my story around COVID, but I can say that the suffering I experienced has opened me to the possibility of letting go, the possibility of uncertainty, and the necessity of surrender. Suffering also allows us to see the suffering of others in a new way, not from a place of fixing, but from a place of presence.
The ability to maintain presence, to see that each of us contains multitudes is essential to understanding and being understood. When others know our best and worst and still find us worthy, we start to believe it too. When someone helps us cultivate our best, we feel it is possible to step more fully into this role.
This is part of my struggle in medicine, I did not have a strong enough self-concept to see my gifts, know where they intersect with my passion and service and move boldly forward. I wanted to be seen as the special little flower I am (just like all of you are too), to be recognized and encouraged in my gifts, to be mentored in my weakness and my struggles. Instead, I was an interchangeable cog who was not special for anything except maybe being “nice”. I was useful for making widgets (in this case RVUs or relative value units, how you and/or your hospital gets paid), instead of healing bodies, minds, and souls.
Was it realistic to expect to be seen and understood by a medical school, a healthcare system, an employer? Probably not, but as
explores, there are many careers, and I would argue that medicine is one of them, that the expectation is that work will become “[your] community, [your] self-expression, [your] purpose in life”. When it’s supposed to be all of these things in your life, you start to give it unrealistic power.When I think back on a time that I felt truly seen and accepted, I think of a merry band of weirdos that I sometimes hung out with in high school. This group of kids were a bunch of artists, manga and anime fans, fantasy book and live action role-playing lovers. My mom liked them because they said things like “great gusto”. They were the kind of high-schoolers who jumped over the Beltane fire before it was cool. This band of weirdos was weird in ways that were different from how I was weird, but they accepted and celebrated me.
I was friends with a lot of people in high school–band kids, theater kids, the kinder kids on my sports teams, but I was on the periphery of those groups. I never felt like I belonged. However, looking back, I kept this group of weirdo friends at arm’s length. I liked them a lot, but I wasn’t comfortable with what being openly weird said about me. I had done the openly weird thing with great gusto earlier in life, and it had left some scars. Now that I knew better, I was no longer sure open weirdness was the social strategy for me. Being a merry weirdo had been dangerous for me earlier in life, so I was just going to dip my toe into weirdo-ness.
When we have parts of ourselves we don’t accept, then we can’t receive the seeing and understanding of our whole selves from others. When we don’t like what someone’s whole-hearted acceptance shows us to be, we find ourselves keeping distance from those who are willing to see and understand us even as we are desperate to be seen and understood. Ultimately, we need to face ourselves and our suffering enough to at least be able to sit with all of our parts without distraction, to stay in suffering without running, then we can listen without worrying how we look, accept ourselves and others as more than one thing. We can see suffering as crucible and catalyst rather than penalty and punishment. Once we do, we can help others listen and surrender to that powerful intersection of gift, passion, and service within them.
Who in your life do you truly know? Is there anyone who truly knows you?
How did you come to know that person deeply?
Have you ever had a part of you accepted by others that you weren’t ready to accept yourself?
If you’re interested at getting better at truly knowing people, you may be interested in David Brooks’ How to Know a Person. I’m only about 1/3 of the way through, so I can’t make a recommendation yet, but it has influenced my thoughts on this piece.
I look forward to reading Brooks' book—thank you for the recommendation, Amy, and for the keen and powerful reflections!
I feel like I have one or two very close friends that I know on a deep level, and vice versa. We can anticipate each other's needs. (One memorable example: My friend Chelsea and I were dining on a patio this weekend, and she asked for a blanket for me and knew I wanted to order the hummus before I did. And at an event that I knew might be a lot for her more introverted self, I made sure to carve out one-on-one time away from the crowd.)
Helping others feel seen and supported as their true selves is my favorite love language!
Such rich reflection here. There is something so profound about being seen and known by others. And yet, we don't want to rely on that external blessing either. It is a delicate dance. A friend gifted me Brooks' book, but it's still in a pile on my nightstand, so I'll have to get to that one sooner rather than later.