RIVER TALK

Believing is seeing

BY SANDY LONG
Posted 1/4/23

While on a winter walk recently, I was focused on the icy ground when I found a face peering back. “Pay attention!” it seemed to say as I made my way safely home. Several days later, another “face” appeared when I took the dogs for their first outing of the morning. It cast a smile on a gloomy day, offering a change of heart and a fresh start.

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RIVER TALK

Believing is seeing

Posted

While on a winter walk recently, I was focused on the icy ground when I found a face peering back. “Pay attention!” it seemed to say as I made my way safely home. Several days later, another “face” appeared when I took the dogs for their first outing of the morning. It cast a smile on a gloomy day, offering a change of heart and a fresh start. 

Turns out there’s a scientific term for this sort of thing, for perceiving faces in nature, in the clouds, on the ground, bored into tree trunks by birds and more—pareidolia.

 “The tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern.” (Merriam-Webster dictionary) 

“The tendency for perception to impose a meaningful interpretation on a nebulous stimulus, usually visual, so that one sees an object, pattern, or meaning where there is none.” (Wikipedia) 

“Seeing familiar objects or patterns in otherwise random or unrelated objects or patterns.” (EarthSky)

Although it’s interesting to learn there’s a term for finding alternative meaning in visual phenomena, I prefer to believe in the possibilities for more open interpretations. “I have refused to live/locked in the orderly house of/reasons and proofs,” writes the poet Mary Oliver in “The World I Live In.” “The world I live in and believe in/is wider than that. And anyway,/what’s wrong with Maybe?”

That’s a question I plan to explore more fully in 2023. My mother has been experiencing the “visual hallucinations” associated with Alzheimer’s disease, entering a journey of exploration into perception and reality. The terrain often features birds I can’t perceive, or skies that don’t match what I’m seeing. The conviction in her eyes leads me to question the limitations of my own perceptions. 

Lately, there are angels in the yard. And the Holy Spirit peering through the front door. I’ve decided not to limit the possibilities for such things based solely on what I do or do not see. “Only if there are angels in your head will you/ever, possibly, see one,” concludes Oliver. “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” A worthy resolution for this new year. 

Seeing is Believing

God appeared at the front door the other day.

That’s what Mom proclaimed when she spotted the Holy Spirit spying from outside 

as we sang old hymns around the massive piano, heavy as a casket.

 

I was playing her faves to stave off the saturating sadness of these days, 

making my way through “Amazing Grace” when the cry came.

 

“Sandy!” she exclaimed, eyes afire with blazing light, gnarled finger aimed at the door. 

“Do you see it?! God is standing there, peering in!”

 

Lifting my fingers from the silenced keys, I leaned to see what lurked beyond the pane—

a neighbor passing by? 

a shadow playing games? 

a smudge that looked like eyes? 

a glimpse of the other side?—

the side not everyone can see—

certainly not me as I studied the empty space behind the glass, 

then looked back to find her face aghast with wonder—

and knew beyond knowing that 

grace had been given, 

hearts uplifted with amazement.

 

Returning my fingers to the keys, I sang,

“I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see.”

 

I glanced at Mom. 

“How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed.”

 

Eyes closed, she sat enraptured, smiling with deep satisfaction.

© Sandy Long

winter, ice, believing

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