Witnessed
On the rare experience of someone actually seeing what you built
There’s something that happens when someone takes the time to see what you’re up to. Not the surface version — the polite nod, the “that’s nice” — but something that goes deeper. Pauses. Focuses. Understands.
We’re all in the middle of our life’s journey, and it’s hard to see clearly from inside them. We’re the central character, living it in real time. I think that’s part of why intentional groups, coaching, mentoring, therapy, a knowledgeable friend — any real reflection — can be so helpful. Sometimes we need something outside ourselves to show us what we can’t see from in here.
A few weeks ago, a fellow writer on Substack offered, unprompted, to reflect back what he saw in my body of work — the books, the art, the offerings, the website, the writing here. My curiosity called forth a “yes, please.”
What came back was remarkable. He took real time to be present, to observe, to follow the threads and connect them. To reflect, rather than just react.
Being witnessed like that — really seen, not just read — is a gift I didn’t know I was still hungry for. It confirmed what I thought I was doing but, like the fish who can’t see the water it’s swimming in, couldn’t fully name that my way of doing things, while not typical, is the perfect way for me.
One thing he wrote has stayed with me since:
“Everything you create seems to answer one quiet question: How do we come home to ourselves? Each part simply answers it in a different language. Your essays invite people to notice. Your books invite people to linger. Your paintings invite people to feel. Your offerings invite people to experience. Different expressions. One living philosophy.”
My journey has been long, full of twists and turns, ups and downs … rabbit holes, shiny objects, dead ends. I am eternally grateful for my curious nature to guide me, my inner alignments to hold me strong and centered, my humor to keep self-amusement at the forefront of my life and that the worst of times is a distant memory.
Thank you Sam, SamtechForCreators, for the reflections that so accurately name what I’ve longed to be true. I think I’m standing a tad bit taller.
When was the last time someone reflected something true back to you that you already knew, but had never heard out loud?
If you’re new here and this feels like your kind of place — welcome. Stay a while.
Recommend Staying Wild, Being Free — Brushstrokes, Breakthroughs and the Beauty of Being Human
being seen by someone who actually took the time ... thats rare
Suzanne, reading this landed differently now that it’s out in the world. What began as me simply following the threads I could see in your work became a reminder for me too: sometimes we don’t need someone to tell us who to become; we need someone willing to pay enough attention to help us recognize what is already there.
“I think I’m standing a tad bit taller” may be the line that stays with me most. If the reflection gave you even a little more confidence in something you had already built and already knew somewhere inside yourself, then I’m deeply glad I followed my curiosity and made it.
Thank you for receiving it with such openness, and for sharing the experience so generously here. It has been a gift on my side of the conversation too. 😊