Seeing Invisible Sophia

Cheryl L. Sanders-Sardello

The difference between seeing inward and seeing from within is what

Rilke describes in the opening of his Eighth Duino Elegy by saying:

"All other creatures look into the Open

with their whole eyes. But our eyes,

turned inward, are set all around it like snares,

trapping its way out to freedom.

We know what's out there only from the animals

face; for we take even the youngest child,

turn him around and force him to look

at the past as formation, not that openness

so deep within an animal's face."

We look inward our entire lives. We learn from earliest childhood to turn and look into what has come before, what is the cause of all things, looking toward the future only when we accidentally glimpse beyond the mirror we hold before our face to see the past. These glimpses only come in rare instances in our lives, as in moments of falling in love, being overcome by joy, or grief. When we make an inner image as a meditation, or from being touched deeply by something that has happened, we have to ‘look into the Open with our whole eyes.’ The exercise of making an image is the exercise of seeing something not out of context, but within the whole of our being. It is practicing seeing from within, instead of looking inward. Because we do not trust what our "whole eyes" would tell us, we live in the world given to us through the tyrannical sense of seeing, (as looking inward), not the wondrous possibility of vision, (or seeing from within).

I remember seeing with my "whole eyes". As a child I could step out the front door and feel the whole world embrace me in oneness with it, because I looked out and saw everything as alive. And then that sense began to fade. It is possible to think back to the young child you were in the young world, when you could see the whole of it. In learning, and knowing, through memory, we turn our seeing inward, and close our “whole eyes”, settling only for our little eyes, the ones that think they know what they are seeing. They look inward at the fixed, even atrophied thoughts and interpretable feelings, and forget they know what vision is.

Vision becomes property. Property of the ego, commodification of the past that preys upon the present and loses meaning in its market value. We can "have a vision" of the unseen…but we only see what is before us if we know that what is being seen is based on the foundation of the known, which comes from the past…we see with our memory…a vision must truly be seeing from within, into the unknown. Seeing from within can only happen when we can see with our whole eyes, and then vision reawakens and we see what is before us. The future. The whole of the unknown that sees us first. This is the invisible Sophia. This is the field in which healing is made possible. Not with eyes of thinking what we all ready know, but with eyes of loving what is yet unknown. It is as if the future possibility of what eyes are all about is still evolving.

The reawakening of the conditions for the healing field seems to be peeking out from the corners of the invisible. We must learn what it is to be seen, yet still be unknowable, before we can see invisible Sophia, and step into the healing field. The conditions seem simple. But, do we ever know when we are being seen? Is there some inner shift that occurs that tells us we are being seen by something we do not yet see? Do you know someone is looking at you when you are asleep, or walking down a dark street alone at night? Sometimes it can sneak up on us in moments of inner calm. Stillness. Not as lack of movement, but rather as inner gesture, a quality of attentiveness, when the ego is able to direct its gaze into the heart of others and self - as world out of time simultaneously…when gaze becomes focus, seeing becomes consciousness…then seeing is no longer memory, but becomes newly quickened by the whole of the world. And then the world is no longer pictures of concepts, known and recorded from the past, but living in perpetual movement, dynamic relationship.

It can be still in our vision, but fixed by our visualization. What do we do when we visualize these days? We remember it - we re-call it back before our eyes, see it again. Fixed - Finished. Visualization as an act of taking a picture, even an inner picture that is specifically to hold something in stasis, tells us we are essentially blind. We see only what we know to see. Only what we know. Only what we are told to see, or are made to learn to see for the sake of being educated. Explanation has taken the place of what is before our very eyes and we no longer see the living world, the world of the interrelation of all things, seen and unseen. Sophia. The Healing Field of the Soul. We now almost always see only the explained world. That which can be held, not 'still', but 'fixed'.

Fixing the living world in a concrete way brings it to a halt - makes it fixed for domestication and training. (It also says something to our imagination about the world as broken, and our need to literally ‘fix’ things.) It all submits to the discipline of being seen; being held under a microscope for analyses - dissected, catalogued, analyzed and explained. We see the body as corpse, the building as functional, nature as landscape, or worse, ecology. Do we see the field? Can we? Do we accept our blind spots? What seems to be inevitable, to be blind to the invisible, perhaps can be modified, as we learn to see, and we develop new eyes.

The Field is always there. It is usually a hollow space held in tension of inattention. For Soul to be experienced - what kind of attention, what kind of vision, might be brought to the Field? One I mentioned all ready, the gesture of stillness; second is the absence of fear, and third the suspension of expectation and judgment; becoming conscious in the activity of our memory, which is governed by the ego.

In describing carefully the sense of seeing, I would say there are three modes of this sense of sight. I will try to speak of each one in a careful, descriptive way, without theory or speculation. In addition, I would like to talk a bit about how they relate to the conditions that seem necessary for the soul to enter the healing field. We will speak of looking in a mirror, looking through a veil, and seeing as the blind.

To See the Invisible Sophia we must strive to see, to understand, the ‘art of vision’, to accomplish the work of perception, beyond the given, beyond the known, beyond the conceptual skeleton of consciousness. When we see as in a mirror, one could say, that we see "darkly". This is the seeing of the developed ego, using the instrument of the eye as a tool for our accomplishment. It is reflected clarity. It is the reflection of the body, the imitation of the finished physical world. It is grace that we see in this way. We do little to perfect or accomplish it beyond corrective lens. It is the imitation of the world out there into the idea of the world in here. In stillness we can reach greater clarity, but it remains always the imitation, or reflection of completion.

It is the clear thinking we seek in understanding. We strive for this kind of seeing all our lives, but especially in school, in that time when learning to think is as important as learning the content of a discipline. How we learn to think must surely impinge its modality on the way we see the world, not just as metaphor, but also as the color the world becomes based on the foundation of our approach.

To look in a mirror is an extraordinary experience…to see the reflection in reverse of the image we offer the world every moment…do we ever see who we think we are when the mirror is only the eye of the other? Are you not ever just a bit surprised by who looks back when you look in the mirror in the morning after a long night of working late, being at a party, or just stumbling through the morning ritual? Think for a moment about how you experienced looking in a mirror the last time you did this. What was it you thought, felt, imagined? Make an image of yourself looking in a mirror, except this time don't simply remember the last time you looked in that mirror, but make the image of yourself looking in the mirror at the reflection the mirror offers. See yourself seeing your self. Don't try to come to any conclusion about doing this; just try to make the inner image. Once you have made the image, hold it steady for a few moments. Then try letting the image go, and wait in stillness to see if something comes. Holding the image steady is incredibly difficult when the image is the reflected image of oneself. When I erase the made image, every time I have done this, what comes is a crowd of faces, like everyone I have ever seen tries to come into my perception, telling me in this way that they see me, seeing them.

From the full clarity of the mirror, we grow into the realization that the world is not just reflected for our sight, but there are some aspects that are veiled from our over-eager eyes. The second step is to learn to see through the veil. Seeing through is sometimes taken to mean seeing the veil and what is on the other side, as well as seeing as if the veil is not really there, through it, to what is on the other side. To absent the presence of the veil is to take over the soul by the ego, and return to seeing the reflected world. To see through the veil moves seeing out of the realm of the activity of the eye, and into the possibility of seeing with the mind's eye, or to look with the absence of fear.

The reason I mention the mind in the context of seeing is that we can feel the occasion of seeing move from perceptual given to engaged activity when we are suddenly confronted with something we have never seen before, or something we don't recognize, but think we should, and quickly realize we have to think about this to come to understanding of it's nature. In many ways the movies, but also things like encyclopedias with layered transparencies, have de-sensitized us to horrible or mysterious sights. Monsters of all shapes and sizes roam about in our heads now, unfathomable in the past, but commonplace now, even for very young children. We see the unimaginable much more readily when it is given to us as a simulated image through movies and magazines. Veils are not so common as they used to be, to the unseen world. Still, we must admit that the more unknown a thing is, the more likely it will give us pause, if not cause outright fear.

The book Freeing the Soul from Fear (Robert Sardello) gives some guidelines on freeing the soul from fears; fear of the unknown, fear of the unseen, fear of fear, fear caused by looking only within; for it is the soul that harbors fear, and thus only sees through a veil. When we are taken over by fear, the healing field is obscured even further, for we lose our clarity of sight when the mind is confused by fear. Understanding is diffused. We may perceive the field of the soul, but in the egos wanting to use it for our own purposes, the healing dissipates. The veil of fear can be so ephemeral, we do not recognize its density, or even its presence. It can deceive us into believing it is not there at all, and that nothing stands between us and what we think we are seeing. We can see what seems to be right in front of us, interpret what we see in a particular way, and only learn later, sometimes years later, that it was an inner insecurity, a small fear that made us see something totally wrong. We do this constantly, in small and large matters in our life. In consistently seeking the path of least resistance, we often stumble onto something that seems to be clearing ground and making life open up in whole new ways we never dreamed possible. It is so disappointing to learn later that perhaps the initiative, or the other involved had totally different intentions than we thought, or only wanted something for themselves, with no true understanding of the whole. It happens all the time. And we do not necessarily outgrow the possibility of not seeing more clearly the next time. It happens in relationships, in business, of course in politics, especially in America, where the veil should be worn thin with overuse, but actually seems to grow thicker with every passing year.

Where we get most confused by the veil is in relation to death. What we question at the threshold reveals our expectation and motivation. In grief, or utter joy, surprise, or love, rage, or complete despair - in those moments when we are not feeling feelings but being feelings - our expectation overcomes our knowing, and we are naked before God and the world in our true selves. We can bypass the healing field by not being still, by being our expectations, without seeing the field all around us.

The mind can know all the right things to do. It can face the fear with knowledge, but that is only a small arsenal against the depth to which fear can obscure the souls' longing. Fear initiates us into the nature of the souls' activity. It is the discipline of activation, of making the image fearlessly, of the ground from which the healing field can emerge. But the mind plays tricks on the soul, and always wants to turn the invisible into the visible, the unknown into the knowable and therefore the controllable. The soul easily gets waylaid into the desires of the ego for purposes not of the soul's domain. The ego is really clever, twisting the movement behind the veil to its own needs, and so the soul remains hidden.

We do not see the soul as in a mirror; there is no reflected clarity. It is veiled, obscured, detectable more in its movement or when some unknown, unknowable light source backlights the activity and we perceive the motion. However, the healing field may not offer even the hint of movement. Its occurrence is invisible.

You could an exercise.

Make an image of yourself in a situation that confused you. You could take a moment out of what may have been a prolonged time in your life. One representative situation, perhaps a single moment of a single day. Don't just remember the moment, but make the image, build it up out of the fabric of the memory that allows you to sew a new garment of this image of the event. Hold the image you make steady for a moment. Then let the image go, and wait in stillness, and attend to what comes. Perhaps a word, or phrase or image. Jot down a note so you will remember the image that came.

Perception of the invisible is possible in this way through the eyes of the heart. The heart is the origin of the eyes of the spirit, which only rarely open, in a few individuals. The eyes of the spirit do not use the physical eyes, but the heart as the organ of perception. When the heart is the organ through which we see, we are no longer looking at a mirror, or through a veil. We are seeing as the blind. We are standing before the world, not seeing inwardly, but seeing from within. We no longer see the past, for this is vision without judgments. Perception of the invisible is perception through participation. It is stepping into perspective, where there is no vanishing point, there is only the unknown.

While the eyes of the body see as through a mirror, a reflection of the body; and the eyes of the soul see as through a veil, a protection of the soul; the eyes of the spirit see as the blind, regarding the unseen image in the stillness of the eye which does not grope or fondle, assume or dismiss. It is the mystery of being only seen. The blind do not see with recorded memories, they see with the wholeness of their being, so that the eye is the body as presence. (When I speak of the blind, I do and do not mean the literal blind) just as when I say the invisible I do not mean the visible that is not there when we see nothing. I speak of the absolute invisibility of Merleau-Ponty. He said in Jan. 1960:

"…Not to consider the invisible as an 'other visible' "possible," or a "possible" visible for an other…The invisible is 'there' without being an 'object', it is pure transcendence, without an ontic mask. And the "visibles" themselves, in the last analysis, they too are only centered on a nucleus of absence.”

Raise the question: the invisible life, the invisible community, the invisible other, the invisible culture." (We might add, the invisible Sophia.) (May 1960) "When I say that every visible is invisible, that perception is imperception,…to see is always to see more than one sees - this must not be understood in the sense of a 'contradiction' - it must not be imagined that I add to the visible…a nonvisible… - One has to understand that it is visibility itself that involves a nonvisibility."

(Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Visible and the Invisible, trans. A.Lingis (Evanston: Northwestern Univ. Press, 1968), 257, 259, 247.

It is so difficult to speak what is seen as not seeable, what is unseen as seeable. In the experience of seeing as the blind see, we must not make the mistake of thinking that that means we see nothing…or only darkness. Closing your eye for a moment is not the same as seeing without the organs of the eye. Even in the darkness, inner illumination reminds us that seeing is not merely an act of physiology, but also a spiritual activity of the whole of our being in relation to the whole of the world. The activation of seeing as the blind is the opening of the heart as an organ of perception. It seems almost obvious. But it is like asking where is the "inner" of inner life. The meaning is loaded with implication and inference; it's as risky as asking "does this make me look fat?" No matter what one says, it has to be what the other is waiting to hear, or it's wrong. And then there is the tone of voice. If you get the right answer in the wrong tone of voice, it's worse than the wrong answer.

So where is the inner, of our inner life? And why can one person obviously see with the heart, when another, no matter how much work and study and meditation…no matter how many art courses or concerts they attend, just never seem to get it? Can the blind see something we who think we can see cannot? And is that every blind person, or only those who have an active inner life? If only some blind people can perceive the world they do not see as clearly as we who do, are the other blind people more blind? Jacques Lusseyran, the blind writer who was active in the French resistance during WWII, tries to explain how he sees.

He says: "When you look with your eyes you say; 'this cup is there, in front of me, just to my right.' 'That man or woman is over there; I see them in a precise position that is such and such in relation to the neighboring position.' You take into account the space and you imagine to yourself that the space you have imposed can not be destroyed, that in fact it exists, is substantial."

But, Lusseyran says, "for experiential reasons … I think that is not true. If, speaking from the depth of my blindness, I say to you: "Things are inside me" this "inside" is an inexact term since there is no actual inside. Things are presented in another way, that's all. I can then play with given space as much as I like. I can even imagine - the room you are in, and the spatial relations of the structure in relation to you and the people in the room with you."

He calls this imagining a playing, creating a representation, like a drawing. However, if he thinks of a person, he thinks not at all of spatial relations. People are not to the right or left, in front of or behind. Lusseyran says; "…he (naming a friend) is inside me, for I have in thinking about him, the sensation of being located a little lower, even in my physical body; than I usually am. Closer to my heart than my head."

"Closer to my heart than my head." The heart as organ of perception. This tells me seeing is not for our use or convenience. It is to bring light into the world. We do not often think of our seeing the world as that which brings light to it, but the world is the bearer, the mirror of the light given to us. To realize that we must see from within - with the vision of the heart.

To see as the blind is more than just participating in the whole. Perceiving with the heart one must be blinded to no longer see with the eyes. But the blindness of the eye is not the one that darkens vision. Blinding can be as in the moment of too great a light, like during the conversion of Saul. Blind not as punishment, but as the occasion for greater perception; conversion from outer seeing, to seeing with inner vision. The new eyes of the prophet, who does not see the world, but has vision of all worlds - conversion - the last great trial of Sophia. Sophia suffered every psychic torment to convert the meaning of the eyes as organs with which to perceive, to organs with which to weep which is the true function of the eyes, says Jacques Derrida, in Memoirs of the Blind. And in weeping we cause a veil to come over our sight, a veil through which we extend our soul, and enter the healing field made visible by our blind surrender.

If the true function of the eye is to weep, only man can achieve this simple excellence. For the animals, eyes are for seeing, and so they see with their whole eye (as Rilke says). But man, who can see with his heart, is wrong in assuming his eyes are for seeing, and so weeps not. We need human tears to water the healing field.

To suffer blindness occasions conversion. The spirit may see more clearly without the function of the eyes. But for as many blind men as there are in the literature, Homer and Tiresias, Samson and Saul, there are as many weeping women.

The soul weeps. The soul knows the true purpose of the organs, and even veiled by tears is indifferent to blurred vision. When we can see Invisible Sophia, when we can enter the healing field of the soul, we obtain new eyes of the heart with which to see, and elevate the function of the eyes to their true purpose.

We weep the veil of tears that heals, in the field of longing and sorrow, which is the realm of Invisible Sophia. The healing field of the soul is not for our sake, but for the satisfaction of our deepest desire - it forms when we are most present to the spiritual world, to the dead, to the beings who are with us always, but are invisible to us. The field is the weaving of all things seen and unseen, and therefore healing is for the spiritual, the dead, the whole of creation, not just the part we see.

We can not be so presumptuous to think all healing is for us, for truly the work continues, and the field emerges when we weep for the dead, the lost, the forgotten and then must see through the veil of tears, with the awakened heart, for the sake of the world.

Excerpt from 1999 Sophia Conference, at Glenstal Abbey in Ireland, The Healing Field of the Soul.