Look in My Eyes…

“The eyes are windows on the soul” – a pithy turn of phrase traditionally attributed to  William Shakespeare. He never said it…or anything like it. The man who gave us a Scottish  power couple, a petulant Danish prince, and an Anglo-Saxon king was much too smart to  fall for such claptrap.  

No, contrary to popular belief, when his beloved Globe Theater burned down in 1613, he  did not turn to Hallmark to supplement his income while the venue was being rebuilt. He  did pen a few pieces for J. Peterman, but I digress. 

If you want to know about eyes, avoid Hallmark and head directly to Jean-Paul Sartre; he nailed it. Sartre understood that interpersonal experience begins when we become  aware that we are being observed by another consciousness. (Of course, vision is not  strictly required…but it makes for a convenient metaphor.) 

Le regard, the ‘look’, is what tells us that we are not alone in the universe. Folks who have a  fear of public speaking often say, “I get very self-conscious when I know other people have  their eyes on me.” Of course you do; you’re supposed to. Being aware of someone being  aware of you is what self-consciousness is: seeing yourself as an object rather than solely  as a subject. It is that self-consciousness that convinces us that ‘the other’ is real. How  so? 

As usual, we can find all we need to know in the first 80 lines (3 chapters) of Genesis. History began when Adam & Eve ate the infamous apple:  

“Then the eyes of both of them were opened and they knew they were naked, so they  sewed fig leaves together and made loin clothes for themselves. When they heard the  sound of the Lord God walking about in the garden…(they) hid themselves… The Lord God then called to the man and asked him, ‘Where are you?’ He answered, ‘I heard you in the  garden and I was afraid, because I was naked, so I hid.”  

Eating the apple, they became aware of each other’s gaze. For the first time, they became  aware of themselves as objects as well as subjects. They truly experienced what it is like to  be seen by another and so for the first time, they felt shame, a familiar reaction to the  unexpected presence of the other, i.e. another Intentional being, at an ‘inconvenient’ time. 

Has anything changed? On my nightstand, I have a snow globe and a gorgeous cactus. Perhaps I am doing something I’m not especially proud of; still I probably don’t feel shame. A snow globe is not an intentional being in most ontologies. And my cactus? Probably not either. But then my cat enters the room. Do I feel shame now? Maybe. Later on, my  landlord walks in without knocking; Oops! 

Shame is an instinctive response to ‘being seen’ by another, i.e. by an ontological equal.  The snow globe is not my ontological equal; but my landlord is! My plant? My pet? Maybe. 

But my snow globe notwithstanding, please don’t make a fetish of biology! The ‘look’ from  a supposedly inanimate object can cause shame. Examples, please! Sure: how about a  child’s stuffed animal? How about your favorite LLM Chatbot? And according to  Hasidic Judaism, any Shekinah infused ‘object’ can be intentional. Bottom line, ontology does not recapitulate physiology. 

When your eyes accidentally meet mine, there is a moment of ‘mutual shared discomfort’.  Beyond that, I see the color of your contact lenses, the dilation of your pupils, and the ill  effects of last night’s bender.  

Now look into the eyes of a baby. Really stare and let yourself be stared at. There’s no  discomfort here, just love…and peace. Is there any doubt that the Whole (Universe? Gaia?  God?) is looking at you through those eyes? And seeing you, sees the world of which you  are a part? Likewise, you experience the Whole in the other’s gaze. 

In this moment, the problem of ‘other minds’ is solved and our concerns about ‘mortality’  disappear. Descartes famously wrote, Cogito ergo sum; Sartre might have written, Me  pudet ergo es (I am ashamed therefore you are). You might add, paraphrasing St. Dallan, Es ergo sum. 

Beyond the baby making age? Not to despair. Pre-school children retain that same  innocence…when they’re not crayoning frescoes on your newly repainted living room  walls. After the age of 6, in our culture at least, things get a bit blurry. Gradually, the divine  gaze is occluded by skill acquisition, etc. We are beginning to become conscious of  ourselves to the exclusion of the other. We are making ourselves an uncomfortable habitat  for the Whole.  

Another opening can occur during early adolescence (ages 10 through 14) but making  contact at this stage requires a HazMat suit. After the age of 14, our connection with the  transcendent goes into hibernation. There are grades to earn, colleges to cajole, bosses to  impress, families to feed, 401(k)’s to fund. If you’re lucky, and most aren’t, you may  reawaken sometime in later life, perhaps after your 70th birthday. Then you’ll look back  bewildered, not necessarily regretful, but certainly dumbfounded: “Who was I? Where  have I been? What have I done?” 

With one exception: Love! It conquers all, they say…even middle age. Most of us will truly  love no more than a few people during our adult lives…if we’re very lucky. But in those  moments, we are once again aware that we are being seen by the Whole and that that whole is seeing itself through us. In fact, however, anyone at any time can become a  channel for the Look. Can, and must, if we hope to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. (Mt. 18: 3) 

The structure of ‘seeing and being seen’ is Trinitarian. I am seen by the Whole through your  eyes; you are seen by the Whole through my eyes; through us the Whole views itself  viewing itself. This is the structure of universal consciousness; it is endlessly self reflective, ceaselessly recursive. World without end, Amen!

Image: Leonardo da Vinci, Mona Lisa, c. 1503–1506 (possibly continuing until c. 1517), oil on poplar panel, 77 x 53 cm, Louvre Museum, Paris.