Invisible to Visible and RIP Dolly Parton
When I wrote that five years ago, I followed it up with this:
Becoming Visible
The most profound offering
we can extend to another
is our undivided attention.
The most incredible gift
we can receive in return
is their story in their words.
And when we share our stories, there is no shortage of humanity
I used to hate mirrors. My reflection looking back at me was not someone I cared for all that much. I drank to excess and then alcoholically. I quit drinking and started to recover. The mirror and I started to get along better. I see myself for who I really am, not for all of my failings and shortcomings. I have grown into myself and have become comfortable inside and out in ways that seemed impossible in my early twenties. Others helped me become visible to me and to them. My Higher Power helped me create a new and healthier perception of myself and the world around me. Today, there is daily work to build and bond and buffer. The mirror is a friendlier place in the neighborhood of self.
We have all felt seen and unseen, heard and unheard, loved and unloved. Marginalized. Minimized. Do we do it to ourselves or do others do it to us? Some of both. All of it shaped by how we view ourselves and the world and how we operate within both systems.
Do I need to become visible to myself before I can help others become visible too? Do I have to love myself before I can love others? I don’t think it is that cut and dried. It is a weaving of both that brings the color and the definition to the tapestry of life. But I do have to do something. If nothing changes, nothing changes. Take action for the good. My own good and the common good.
I have been thinking about Dolly Parton this week. Rest in peace Dolly. In my youth, I know I made Dolly jokes and my first impression was “I like your music but why do you dress like that?” In the decades since, I have grown to respect Dolly for her strength, courage, independence, talent, humility, humor, and did I mention courage? I grew up with 12 siblings. Dolly had 11. I wonder if she felt invisible like I sometimes did?
Her clothes and persona brought her visibility, but it was her singing, songwriting, and philanthropy that really defined her life and legacy. My writing first made me visible to that pained individual in the mirror. Now, I share some of my writing with others, in the hopes that we see and hear each other and connect via our human hearts.
I have worked in schools for 38 years, walking the halls with thousands of students, parents, and colleagues over those years. I sometimes feel invisible still. But I do my best to help others become visible. It is a daily commitment to show up with good energy, be fully present, look others gently in the eye, listen, support, laugh, connect. Some days are diamonds, some days are stones. Or as Dolly might have said, some days are rhinestones and some days are rocks.
When Dolly Parton’s nephew Bryan Seaver released a video officially announcing her death this week, he included these words near the end of the video:
“Dolly was a farmer just like her daddy. He farmed the soil and she farmed songs and happiness.”
What am I farming today? Grateful presence and shared visibility are my goals. How about you?
