I SEE YOU

If you haven't seen the much talked about movie," Avatar"---go! It is a masterpiece of film making, from the gorgeous, other worldly visuals, to the story line, to the fantasy scenes of flying animals and people and of course, the 3D effects. I was mesmerized and did not want to leave the planet of Pandora and the Na'vi tribe who inhabit it. But there was one line of dialogue that struck me and has stayed with me almost more than anything else in the movie. At one point, the character who plays the Nav'vi young woman must teach her tribe's culture to the strange young man who has mysteriously entered their midst. Finally she falls in love with him. No surprise there , but what she said to him was a refreshing and insightful line---she said, "I see you". Not "I love you". She had not even liked him at first and was suspicious and disdainful of him. But because she was forced into spending time with him, she came to know him, not just as a stranger. She saw beyond his mask, which in the case of the movie, was truly a fantastical visage which transformed him during a sort of time travel to Pandora. "I see you" meant I see the real you, through all the outer layers, and I find you worthy of my love. It was a lovely, incandescent moment of human connection. It reminded me of rare moments I have either seen or experienced when one being connects with another---even strangers.

Once, when on an adventure trip in a very primitive, third world country, trekking among a stone tribe of an ancient culture, where our guides and porters did not speak our language, I was fearful and anxious regarding our safety. How could these people, who only years ago were still cannibalizing each other, possibly care for us? What were we doing here? Had we over estimated our physical abilities? But as we came to know these men, I forgot my fears completely and trusted my life to them. We never spoke words to each other, but our eyes ultimately said everything---I see you, I trust you, I will not betray you, no matter what you look like, or we to you. I would watch in the evenings as they left us and drew together in their own company. They would sing and laugh and connect with each other in ways I rarely see in our culture. I envied their ability to be totally themselves, happy, unencumbered with inhibitions, egos, or false pretenses. They saw each other quite easily. I hope they will not lose that ability when they inevitably become "civilized", for that often gets lost as we learn other traits, such as reserve, suspicion, mistrust, judgment, and withholding of our true selves.

Of all the things I learned from that excellent adventure, I mostly remember the eyes of the people I met ---their concern and empathy when I collapsed in exhaustion at the end of an all day trek, when my brother fell down a steep ravine and injured himself, when we looked in utter disbelief and terror at -- an actual swinging, suspension bridge hung over raging water. It was made of rope and broken, uneven wooden slats , and we needed to somehow walk across it without losing our balance and falling into the river below. Always they were there to help, guide, and comfort us. We were so different from each other, but so much the same at our core. Humor found us all as our bare footed friends curiously looked at our shoes and boots--as if to say, why bother with those boxes, when your bare feet would work just as well or better. Their giggles and expressions were gently teasing, never ridiculing. In contrast, when we first saw these people in their native dress, which was almost complete nakedness, we had to stifle our somewhat shocked stares and embarrassment. But they saw us, and found us worthy of their kindness and their service. I saw them back.

I will never make it to the moon much less the planet of Pandora, but the wonder that happens when one really sees another can happen every day. So, the next time one of my grand daughters says, " Grandma, Grandma---look at me!" I'm going to try a little harder to "see" all there really is to see.