‘You have looked at it, but you haven’t seen it.’
It was just a sentence out of one of my favourite books, ’The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.’ A far-reaching compendium which includes how to make a pan-galactic gargle blaster. A refreshing beverage that theological students claim is a vocation.
My more serious quote comes from a discussion where one of the protagonists is excitedly chatting to another about the beauty of a fjord.
‘You have looked at it, but you haven’t seen it’. And it struck me that this is true of me as well. How many times have I ‘looked’ at a thing of great beauty and not ‘seen’ it? I did not really appreciate it. I did not really enjoy it, engage with it and be moved by it.
Every inch of our local Grampians opens up the possibility of such an experience. So does the ocean, which is only an hour away. You can ‘look’ at these things for sure, but to really ‘see’ them you first have to stop. Completely stop. Breathe, then breathe several times more. With your gentle gaze, caress every detail slowly. Allow the vision to enrapture you, delight you, enthral you. Do not move away, do not stop seeing it, until it lets you go. Those starry-eyed couples who gaze at each other longingly over candlelit tables are experts at this process.
But you don’t have to go to the Grampians or the ocean. It can be with the roses in the back garden or the face of someone you see frequently. It happens with me at the altar as the Master looks at me and I look at him. In this exchange, in this living moment, I am not just looking, but I am seeing, as if for the first time.