Someone Else's Eyes

Recognized pain seen only in someone else’s eyes

Someone Else’s Eyes

“We’re at mile marker 85” was the text in response to my earlier message, which said,

“I’ve arrived.  I’m in a white car.  You’ll see me parked on the side of the off-ramp at Exit 62.”

I was there waiting for Sarah Jade and her friend so I could answer their questions about a particular piece of land on the fringe of Utah’s Great Salt Desert.  We shared an interest in this area because of its majesty, solitude and sanctuary.  It made me feel connected to these people, people I’d never met in person.  So, I waited in anticipation of their arrival.

I soon saw a small car take the lonesome desert exit and glide to a stop next to my window.  We both lowered our windows and shared a greeting to confirm identities.

“Lynn?”  Monique, Sarah Jade’s friend inquired.

“Yes.”  I responded.

Sarah Jade peeked around her friend and said, “Hi Lynn.  It’s nice to meet you in person.

“Great to meet you!”  I said.  “Follow me and I’ll take you up the road to the land.”

We raised our windows and drove forward.  But, confirming identities with my companions also raised unanticipated feelings to match our surroundings.  You see, I had created my own version of these acquaintances well before they had arrived.  And, these people were nothing like my inaccurate manufacture.  Such feelings began to leave me feeling as isolated as the encompassing, remote desert terrain until a sudden and enlightening connecting-sight hit me as if a bolt of lightning in the middle of a bright, clear day, soon after we arrived at our destination.

We stopped, stood and looked.  I listened to Sarah Jade and Dominique paint their vision of what they could do there.  I listened intently as they described their life path.  The path that led them to this destination. They talked of their affinity for the place and what it offered.  I understood all of that.  But then, I saw that bolt of lightning.  You know, the one I described as coming out of the blue.

Dominique’s descriptive story referenced the small town in which she grew up.  She described the way she was treated by some of the people there.  I saw a flash of pain in her eyes.  The pain that pulled her to this place.  This hoped for sanctuary.

I recognized that pain and it cleansed me!  It cleansed me of my self-imposed feelings of difference.  It once again connected me to Sarah Jade and Dominique, as kindred, in an instant.  Because I recognized how they were just like me for the first time.  Well after we had met virtually.  Shortly after we met face to face.

“We’re at mile marker 85” Sarah Jade said through written word in response to my earlier message which said,

“I’ve arrived.  I’m in a white car.  You’ll see me parked on the side of the off-ramp at Exit 62.”

I was there waiting for Sarah Jade and her friend so I could answer their questions about a particular piece of land on the fringe of Utah’s Great Salt Desert.  We shared an interest in this area because of its majesty, solitude and sanctuary.  It made me feel connected to people I’d never met in person.  So, I waited with anticipation for their arrival.

What I didn’t anticipate from meeting Sarah Jade and Dominique was the arrival of a new understanding.  An understanding of how you and I can be connected in ways that surpass our current, inaccurate portrayal of how and why others supposedly differ from us.  New understanding comes from recognition.  Not a recognition of physical attributes, but of shared personal experience.  

It’s something we can only see by looking deeply into someone else’s eyes.