To See and Be Seen

In the moment, all I saw was the waterfall.

The texture of rock worn into ribbons.

The moss holding on.

The rush of water tumbling toward its next becoming.

I was focused on the details—

the shimmer, the angles, the way the light bent around the edges.

I was trying to capture the beauty I saw, the way it felt from up close.

And then later I saw this photo my friend took of that exact moment.

Not of the waterfall—

but of me capturing it.

Bent low, steady, intentional.

Surrounded by the same beauty I was trying so hard to honor.

Completely unaware that the moment I thought was small

was actually incredibly striking from where she stood.

And it made me think—

Most of the time, we live inside the first image.

Up close. Focused on the details.

Trying our best to make sense of what’s right in front of us.

We see our effort.

Our concentration.

Our imperfections.

How close we think we have to be just to get it right.

But others often see the second image.

They see the devotion.

The courage it takes to get close to what matters.

The softness in the way we reach for beauty.

The way we keep showing up, even when we don’t realize how remarkable that is.

They see us framed by the world we are trying so hard to understand.

And maybe that’s the quiet truth:

We rarely realize how striking we are

while we’re simply doing the work of being ourselves.

So here is the reminder—

You are far more beautiful in motion than you know.

Your effort is seen.

Your presence is felt.

Your way of witnessing the world reveals a kind of strength

you almost never give yourself credit for.

Sometimes the angle you’re standing in

is not the angle that shows your light.

Sometimes the story you think you’re capturing

is only half the picture.

And sometimes—

just sometimes—

you need someone else’s lens

to remind you of the wonder you carry

simply by being here.