Now You See Me

Sometimes, in relationships, people say that they want to be known. They also say that they want to be seen. It’s worth asking ourselves whether those two wishes are not actually the same.

To say that we “know” something means that we understand it fully, and can therefore stop considering it closely. Our brains love to tuck things away into the known category, because that frees up bandwidth to figure out things that are new and unfamiliar. It’s a basic survival strategy that allows us to focus on new threats and opportunities, instead of things we already know how to deal with.

This strategy can become a liability, though. For instance, when trying to draw a face, most of us have brains that fall back on what we think we know. We go to draw a nose, and the “knowing” part of our brain shouts: “Ooh, ooh, I know about noses--they’re triangles. Draw a triangle.” An artist, on the other hand, actually sees the nose, and realizes that it’s no more a triangle than an apple is a circle, or a tree branch is a straight line. In taking the time to see the face, they understand it on a deeper level, and recognize that this face, in this moment, in this light, may never have existed before, and may never exist again. 

We humans are complicated creatures. We change, we surprise, we confuse, we reveal our endless layers unpredictably, or reluctantly, or not at all. When you love someone and you think you know them, it’s all too easy to stop seeing them. 

Sometimes, not knowing someone is the deepest expression of our love.