I SEE YOU

Nearly twenty years ago I was working at FEMA in the newly formed teleregistration division that allowed victims of natural disasters to call in and register for disaster assistance. This was formed at the time of the Loma Prieta earthquake in San Francisco in 1989. I had been called back for a new disaster, and I was still taking applications over the telephone. Each of us had our own little cubicle and places to thumbtack information to help us with completing the applications. By this time, I was a student of Unity and a firm believer in positive affirmations. I tacked upon the wall by my telephone a bumper sticker that read “Good Stuff Happens”. There was another version at the time that seemed popular with a lot of folks, but it was the opposite of what my sticker stated.

Disaster assistance employees were considered “temporary” employees. In the beginning of a disaster we needed lots of people on the telephones. I can remember as many as 500 – 600 working at one time. Many of these were quickly released as the number of calls decreased. Consequently, as we were a university town, we hired a lot of college students in need of supplemental income, even if only temporarily.

When I tacked up my “Good Stuff” sticker, I was very quickly inundated with young people who were drawn to it like a magnet. Most of these were young men. I was very moved by their sincerity in asking me questions. A lot of them were in their freshman year, and I represented a mother figure. Maybe they just needed reassurance as they were far from home.

One young man was so handsome he was almost beautiful. Like someone out of a Michelangelo painting. A cherubic face and curly dark hair that fell over one eye. He came with two or three others to talk with me on break, but waited until we were alone to bring up the fact that he was very sad that people did not get to know the real person behind his good looks. He told me how lonely he was most of the time. Even though young women were attracted to him, it was always just a superficial attraction. And for obvious reasons, the guys his age didn’t want to hang out with him. My heart was moved by his story. I don’t remember what I told him, but I’m certain I told him that the right young woman would show up when she was supposed to... and to not give up trying to be a friend to those he dated. I know I told him he was blessed with his good looks – they were a gift. He was modeling to earn money for his college tuition.

The most inquisitive young man was persistent in tracking me down during breaks or slow times when the phones were quiet. He asked me all kinds of questions about my faith, religious affiliation, books I read, etc., etc. I told him at the time I was reading a book about “Findhorn”. This was (and still exists in a much more sophisticated form) a spiritual commune that was started on a northern coast of Scotland in the early 1960s. The book I was reading was concentrating on the beautiful gardens these people were able to grow in the cold, inhospitable climate. Even in the dead of winter, the roses bloomed incredibly large and beautiful. Agriculturists came from all over the world to study their organic methods of gardening. The practices at Findhorn were very unconventional to say the least. I agreed with many who said it was the frequent group meditations that attributed to their success. I also shared with this young man that these first people at Findhorn believed that plants had spirits or Devas who helped them grow, and that these spirits communicated to the people the methods to use to make them thrive! (Not that I agreed with this.) This led to a discussion about other beliefs. He wanted to know if I believed that God was in everything. I told him I did...that God was omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. The next day he came to me and teased me, saying that he did some research and that my beliefs amounted to “pantheism”... I said, “No, no”. And we talked more about the presence of God, as I observed it. The life force in all living things. (A rock did not qualify as “living” in my eyes!) And all living things need to be treated with reverence.

I don’t remember when the young man left FEMA, so many came and went. It was months later, perhaps even a year, that I received a telephone call late one night. The connection was poor and it was obviously long distance. It was my young friend. He called to tell me how much our conversations meant to him. I asked him where he was. He told me he had dropped out of UNT. When I expressed my dismay, he informed me that he was now attending Duke University. Surprised, I asked why he switched. He told me he decided to take a different path with his life, and that he now was majoring in theology. I guess he needed to clarify in his own heart what he believed.

I have often wondered about this very special young man. I wish I could recall his name. Maybe someday I will recognize him on a book cover, or hear of him in a pulpit somewhere. Wherever he is, I know he is making a difference in the world!

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Today I read an article on my internet news site that struck me as very powerful in a low-key way. The author of the article was Terry Tillman. He told of being on a safari in northern Africa about 20 years ago. Everywhere he went he noticed the indigenous people greeting each other in the same way. They would look closely into one another’s eyes. One would say something, and then the other would speak. Terry said he asked his guide what they were saying. It was a Samburu greeting that went like this:

“I see you,” said one. “I am here,” said the other. It was an act of “coming together – of connecting at a heartfelt level.” Or, as Terry felt, “Until you see me, I do not exist. When you see me, you bring me into existence.” It is a way of being in the present moment with another person. It says that they really matter.

How powerful that is! And how I wish that sometime or other, if one of my grandchildren is in need of being recognized for who he/she is, someone will take the time to say to them, “I see you.” And he will answer, “I am here.”

Until next time...

I see you

surrounded with peace and love,

Marilyn