The Place of Really Seeing
They say you can see three states from here. “Here” refers to what seemed a rickety observation tower atop the tallest peak in Pennsylvania, Mt. Davis. As a kid, our family summer vacations were spent at a YMCA family camp called Deer Valley, which still sits right up against Mt. Davis, elevation 3, 213 ft. Deer Valley is a treasure trove of magical memories for me and my siblings. The serenity of the picturesque lake, enfolded in mountain blankets; the giddy excitement of kids with flashlights bobbing on paths through the pitch dark woods; the solemn clang of the dining hall dinner bell echoing through the camp and drawing streams of campers like some cosmic force shaking them awake from pottery wheels, sailboats, and shuffleboard courts. All of these moments are stored up in our minds and forever fueling smiles. But lately I’ve been reflecting on my many hikes up the side of Mt. Davis.
In the bliss of childhood, I don’t remember being nervous about scaling rocky mountain terrain. After all, we were led by confident camp counselors, highly experienced at the ripe old age of 19. And even if I had a breath of hesitation about climbing four flights of backless stairs up a metal tower that looked less sturdy than some of my kids’ Lego creations, all fears were summarily quieted when I reached the top and took in the view. Wow. Three states. Maryland, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, all laid out like some beautiful patchwork quilt. It was...is, as my mom says, “a sight for sore eyes.” But you could never see it unless you had the guts to climb the tower. It was the steep stairs that got you to the place of really seeing.
I’m not sure the tower is still open to curious climbers, and even if it is, my acquired fear of heights will most likely preclude me ever climbing that perch again. But I’m so glad I got to see it. I’m so glad I got to see from a higher perspective.
Can you retrace with slow, thoughtful movements, the times when life became crystal clear? The times when the eyes of your soul could see beyond the eyes of your circumstance? Maybe it was an instance when you just knew which major to choose, found your soulmate, or decided to start a business. Maybe it was something less weighty like, knowing exactly how to reorganize your office, choosing the perfect words for a difficult conversation, or finding that elusive library book.
Life as we know it in this season of our history, moves at breakneck speed. There is so much paint on our canvases that it all begins to blur. And yet, for all of us, there are still these places of really seeing...moments where the ride screeches to a halt, and a window opens to some new revelation, some transcendent view that changes our perspective. So I want to take a mental hike...scale the mountain terrain again to discover what gets us there...what sets in motion our capacity to really see?
Maybe it’s simpler than we think. What’s that phrase my parents taught me? The one I’ve said to my own kids thousands of times? Retrace your steps. When you’re looking for that stray snow boot, your checkbook, your car keys? Stop, slow down and go back to all the places you’ve been and search from your memory. Sometimes, the mind remembers in reverse. So, if it works for lost car keys...? It’s a worthy exercise, I think, when we really need to find an answer, to look for it in the places where our answers have already been found. And so I retrace...look what I wrote down a year ago. What was it that gave me courage to step out the last time I had to tackle something scary? What prompted me to choose faith over fear? Hmm...
Other times the trail leading to the place of really seeing is marked by pain. I don’t know why, and wish it weren’t so, but tears of sorrow and grief also can wash the eyes. You know how a breaking can also be a breaking through? The haunted and holy halls of suffering can lead us to wide open spaces where we gain distilled clarity about who and what is most important to us, how we really want to spend our days, what we long to believe...or what lies we have believed. Oh for more grace to treat suffering like a trusty winter coat. It’s not welcome in the summer, okay to wear and live in through the winter months, and in the spring we can let it slip off our shoulders and shake out the pockets to find an old $5 bill.
But perhaps the easiest and hardest thing to do...the one thing that can get us into position, speed travel us to the place of really seeing, is to seek out the company of those who really see. Too often, this introverted soul has chosen solitude and interior conversation over soul baring with a wise and safe friend. But beyond the benefits of “laying it all out there”, is the treasure of opening space for listening, for learning, for allowing someone else to guide you up the steep cliffs to a higher faith and a grander view. We’ all have questions, like “what’s next?”, or “is this the right thing to do?”, or “how can I climb out of this hole?”. When we’ve danced the dizzying frenzy of trying to find the answers and come up empty; it’s time to haul in the big guns. Bring in the daring ones, the friends who call you up and call you out, who insist and persist in reminding you what is true.
I close my eyes, and imagine myself standing on top of that metal tower, frail footing on a windy day. I want to savor the sensation, impress on my memory what it feels like to anticipate the impending grandeur, the tree-state expanse just beyond my eyelids, the very moment just before they open. Because I am discovering that what I get to see depends on how I look for it.
“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
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