Being seen
A Monday sort of magic, just in time for Tuesday
Almost 16 minutes. Two days in one.
This post has been asking for more time. I’ve been going through the day(s), and the moments I tend to steal to write have found me sitting, careful, realizing I need to listen a little longer. I’m getting close, so close to so much that I truly do have feelings about, that it’s kind of making my breath come in shorter intakes. So much for theory. The real deal is all about this idea of the Heart, needing to be seen, and yet having to deal with the Shame of that very thing.
The very acknowledgment of hiding is, in itself, vulnerable. I’ve been hiding my whole life, and now, happily starting off with a Substack on one hard thing, focusing deeply on safer homes, and finally dealing with balancing my inner team, my inner reality as a Soul who has dealt with so much pain by tilting away, always away, is I’m coming to it.
Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”
So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”
Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground - everything that has the breath of life in it - I give every green plant for food.” And it was so.
God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning - the sixth day.
(Genesis 1:26-31, NIV)
All I can think about is the Creation story - the one I learned in Sunday School and with all sorts of imaginative and implausible illustrations. I think of how it was all so perfect, the Garden, the animals, walking with God in the evening, and then…suddenly, through a small choice, an insignificant trust in a talking creature’s persuasive arguments, suddenly everything was horrible.
Why? What on earth was the big deal? And, by the way, did you catch the detail that before the “Fall,” we were all (including the entire animal kingdom) herbivores? For goodness sake, the “circle of life” wasn’t even a thing before this story!
But the thing I can’t get out of my head, what is so interesting as I struggle to come near, and deal, with the coating of Shame that has covered my Heart as long as I can remember, is the simple sentence at the very end of Chapter 2 of The Book:
Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.
(Genesis 2:25, NIV)
Not a lot of varnish on this statement, and yet it has reverberated through my theology like a Notre Dame bell. The editorialization, mostly nonverbal, mostly via those children’s Bible illustrations, was loud and unanimous. The shame of nakedness that Adam and his “wife” did not feel, was all to do with sex. They missed the memo. They were not yet aware that genitals were terrible, awful, no good parts of a body. The artists helped them out here, tastefully concealing the shame-filled bits, whether the picture they were drawing was set in the actual Garden of Eden (presumably before the shame hit), or during the uncomfortable middle of the story (as it was definitely doing its work), or at the end, as the two were driven out into a harsh, black and white, desert-like space, with a stern, sword-wielding angel at their backs.
No matter where or when Adam and Eve are shown in any evangelical Christian imagination (as opposed to the Renaissance artists), they are wearing plant-based swimwear. The nakedness is resolved by us, and for us, as viewers. Whew. No obvious characteristics to do with the sex act (or the act of nursing, either) on display.
And because of this editorial decision, made en masse by all publishers everywhere, I, as a little evangelical girl, was convinced that naked bodies were most properly a reason to be very, very ashamed. Specifically, the parts of our bodies that Adam and Eve needed to have covered up.
They didn’t know. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil let them know that being naked was very evil. The original sin became (implicitly, and then unconsciously) nakedness itself.
But for Adam no suitable helper was found. So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh.
Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.
…That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.
(Genesis 2:20b-22, NIV)
There is absolutely no way this passage does not imply a sexual act. And in the preceding chapter, the first version of the story of Creation, God’s first commands to the couple are to be fruitful and multiply. He ends the stanza with an evaluation of this day and week of Creation as “very good.”
It seems unlikely in the extreme that God’s creation of a male and female, sexually capable, “one flesh” sort of couple, would suddenly, in a radical turn of events, become a reason for judgement, and a source for their own realization of how ashamed they had forgotten to be, of their own nakedness, in a sexual sense. How was it that God had become ashamed (and passed this on to them somehow, through the fruit they rebelliously ate) of his own recent handiwork’s overt potential for procreation?
So yeah, at this particular point in my life, I am wondering if being naked might possibly have meant a little more, or a little less, or a little other, than that.
There are a lot of reasons for humans to wear clothes. Yes, modesty is one of them. And, you know, aesthetics. We look better, most of us, with some fabric to distract the eye and accentuate the positives. But there’s also winter (quite the factor up here). There is extreme heat, or rain, or wind. We don’t have a covering of fur or scales or feathers like other animals do. We can’t breathe underwater, or fly off to a lovely warm island (well, maybe some of us can, but that’s because of the technological improvements on outerwear, taken to great extremes).
Nakedness signifies poverty, a lack of shelter, and probable death in the near future. It is not just a stripping off of tasteful accessories, because Nature is not that kind, and neither are other animals, or other people, for that matter. Without clothing, we have no place to store tools, or weapons, or food. We have no “pockets,” and that matters for our species.
Nakedness is also a lack of presentation. Without our clothes, we have very little to work with to signal our intention, our level of self-esteem, our projects for the day or hour, our gender, or sexual availability, or power estimate, or approximate status in any wealth measurement system. Clothes provide a LOT of information, socially. We probably make more snap decisions as to someone’s character, trustworthiness, and general skill level from their clothes than any other observable factor. What we are wearing is so immediately obvious, and from a distance, too.
Nakedness is reserved for intimate relationships, because it signals so much trust - not just that we won’t get physically assaulted and injured, or placed in an exposed location - but also because we are none of us “perfect.” We have flaws, which are obvious without a layer of style and texture and colour. We all do. There’s no completely symmetrical form, and there is no particular standard of beauty besides the ones our cultures make up. It’s unlikely that there are many people who are completely happy with the way their own body looks, in all lights, at all angles, doing what it does.
Being naked, without shame, could mean a few more things than that a person feels awkward about sexual characteristics on display. Being naked, in the Biblical sense I quoted, could mean:
Eve and Adam were not yet self-assessing on a scale that included judgement of their own “looks.”
Adam and Eve were not aware of a need for self-protection from each other, or from anyone else (animals? God?).
Eve and Adam did not yet think of wealth, status, or power as a possession to be held, carried, or flaunted.
Adam and Eve did not yet associate uncovering with a deepening of trust (their trust quotient was presumably already quite high).
Eve and Adam were living in the present, securely, in connection with each other and with God, and did not have anything in particular to “hide,” or even store for later.
Adam and Eve were thinking about other things than their own nakedness or self-image or how they appeared to others.
Eve and Adam were comfortable and warm and appropriately moisturized, in the tropical Garden they called home.
These are just a few reasons that shame may not have entered the emotional landscape, even though Adam and Eve were, ostensibly, quite poor in the style department.
As I approach my own strong and even overpowering sensation of feeling shame (realizing finally that this is likely applied shame, and has nothing to do with guilt, or true reasons for me to feel “less than”), I am trying to remember that underneath all my defences - and clothing can definitely signal more than simply weather wear - I am naked. Always. I was born naked, and I’ll die naked. I exist as a human who covers herself up, in more than physical ways. But I do exist with a choice to uncover myself, as well.
The shame applied to me was based on other people’s strong fears for my safety. I am quite sure the motivation was protection, maybe even a form of love. However, the strategy of creating a barrier between my body and my own self-respect was a poor one. There are many other ways to build strong boundaries that create reasonable safety in most environments. Shame in one’s own physicality is nothing but destructive, in my considered and experienced opinion.
I realize that you as a reader may not have had the same exposure to shame-inducing messages as a small child, at least, not the same in content. However, I would be shocked if you didn’t have some equivalent, preverbal, strongly applied shame “paint jobs” somewhere in your inner home. It is so common that people avoid certain situations, or topics, or self-disclosures for reasons that are less practical, and more emotional.
It seems to me that our projected hatred (or disdain, if hatred is too strong a term for you) of “others” - including other races, other genders or sexes, other cultures, other belief systems, other economic levels, other ingredients in cooking, other decorating preferences, other skill or knowledge bases, other…anything - signals a deep sense of localized shame that resides in our own souls, and which we will do almost anything to repress deeply inwards, or express violently outwards.
Shame is very uncomfortable. It’s hard to accept in myself. I distance myself from its sources either by hiding from my own reality, or aggressively pushing away others who get too close to what I can’t bear to “know.”
Going back to the story of Adam and Eve…it’s a very rich one. I won’t try to plumb its depths here. But I will note that the sudden acquisition of shame was tied very directly to the choice to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. I have some thoughts, now, about that, given that I can clear away the ridiculous supposition that “good and evil” was a knowledge of sexuality or some sort of awkward puberty transition into responsible adulthood.
I have been thinking about how it feels to exist, being seen, in the world. I have spent my life trying to hide, using sophisticated methods such as staying very busy, not sticking around too long in relationships which are getting close, and dissociating while in company with others. To be fair, when I write this, I may as well be Kyrie, squinting her eyes shut so I don’t “see” her. Being seen is scary. Being seen as one is? Really? With faults and gaps in skill/knowledge, and all sorts of asymmetrical development going on in real time? Ugh ugh ugh. It’s nakedness, is what it is. It’s the sort of trust in others that I haven’t developed, because I still am not sure I want to be in a relationship, for real. I’ve sent in my outerwear, my persona, my best and most polished self, instead. I haven’t come close to being truly vulnerable, not for more than a few seconds, anyway.
The thing that has scared me most, I think, about showing up, is my own capacity to cause harm. I realized this concretely as I worked up to giving my horses those darn shots. I sat back and thought about the pinprick they would feel, as measured against my own place in their world. Was my presence enough to counteract the quantifiable pain of an injection?
Of course it was. Of course it is. But the very fact that I had to think about it meant that I habitually disregard my own presence in their world. I think, usually (and I believe this goes for my human relationships, as well) that the thing we are doing together is far more important, far more weighty, far more significant in all ways, than am I. I can’t believe that my showing up would matter to anyone, unless it comes with my actions - all the stuff I’m doing for and with you.
This is clearly very unbalanced, and speaks to a high level of shame in my own being. I fundamentally struggle to believe I’m worthy. I think almost any discomfort between me and anyone else will be enough to threaten our relationship. I am hyper-focused on keeping all avenues between us as smooth and comfortable for you as I can. Giving horses shots is enough to terrify me that they will run away and hate me forever.
Ridiculous. I know that now. It took thinking it all through in those sorts of emotional, quantitative, comparative terms to realize the lunacy of how I’m operating.
After that, I was able to walk in to the horse pen, brush them down kindly, consciously give a great deal of attention to the evidence (much, broad, obvious) that all of them cared about my presence and intention and energy in their herd, and deliberately inject each of them with a protective set of vaccines. None of them minded in the least. It was a complete non-event, except that they seemed happy to spend time with me.
Unbelievable.
I do want to be seen. But I have a fear of being seen, as well, which is tipping me over into an unbalanced and insecure state. And this is largely because I am so deeply conscious that I’m not perfect. I haven’t “arrived.” I also am painfully aware of my capacity to cause others pain. I, in other words, have a sense of my own power for both good and evil. To other people. This power, this un-hide-able capacity for me to be with and also cause effects that matter, and which I cannot control, once they are felt by others, is, or at least feels, deeply, deeply shameful. I’m not sure shame is the appropriate response, but I do think that unbalanced awareness of my presence in a group, or a relationship, where I know my own nakedness as a set of both abilities and weaknesses, is going to cause me to tip into shame.
Shame, once it showed up in Adam and Eve’s presentation to God, resulted in, you guessed it - blame. All sorts of bad behaviour ensued. It was the clear beginning of practical, felt, evil, for sure. Nothing to do with sexuality, per se, but a lot to do with competition for resources, justification, moral superiority, duplicity, hidden agendas and suspicion of motives, and general untrustworthiness by all concerned. The fruit, once eaten, caused awareness of consequence - and this was too much, too heavy, too shameful to bear. Enter all the coping mechanisms we are so familiar with in any human group.
My Heart does not need more shame. It needs to know what to do with the weight of my presence in connection, in relationship, in a consequential sharing of the world, with others. It needs a balance point where I am able to accept my own actions (with awareness of my nakedness as a default starting point), as well as the actions of others, who also exist with an underlying naked state, more or less exposed.
I believe now that when I feel shame, I can assume that my Heart is unbalanced, and scared (probably about something to do with my own power to affect others). I can work to find a centre point where I am equally aware and accepting of my own true self, my capacity for both good and evil (because once you eat that fruit, it can’t be uneaten), and also the presence of others, with their own equivalent truth, and capacity.
In between expressing shame outwards (blaming), and repressing it inwards (hiding), is being seen. This is intensely intimate, vulnerable, and courageous. I haven’t tried it all that often. I’m working on it, with my animals first, and moving to increase my tolerance with my very safe, trusted, loved people as well.
My Heart needs to know for sure that my worth exists regardless of my effects on others. I need to have a way to experience true remorse for my actions, that does not tip me into a shame experience where I want to no longer “be.” I also think that, in this teeter-totter of emotional presence, my ability to remember that I am unique, have a creative and generative capability built in, and that I exist to connect deeply and meaningfully with others, will help me balance.
This post is a long one, and I have more to say, but I’ll stop here and spend more time in the real world, doing the thing. Trying out this form of balancing, and working on the courage required to stay present with. To allow others (even just the horses) to see me, respond to my presence, and also exist with their own relatively naked souls in connection with mine. Terrifying, and deeply unsettling, but somehow also healing and energizing in ways that have been buried for far too long.
I wish you the ability to approach your own shame and label it as unbalanced and indicative of work to be done. You are not unworthy; you are not unlovable; you are not evil, even if your actions can cause evil to be experienced. You matter, and so do your choices, but you are also more than your choices, your past, your present, your awareness of it all.
That’s where I am this Tuesday. It’s a tippy point on a long plank and I’m going to take the time to find the centre.
One hard thing. Blessings, as you find yours.
I was raised by an Episccopalian southern mother who taught me that human bodies and their various functions and parts were pretty disgusting. God was God precisely because He was all spirit. Imagine my shock as a 19 year old girl sitting on a beach in Italy and watching people of all ages and body types strolling around in g-strings with zero shame!!