Maybe it was my trauma, anxiety, or attachment insecurity, but I used to feel intense rage when I wasn’t being “seen” by someone I cared about.
Feeling “unseen” was triggered by seemingly small moments: my partner not holding my gaze the way I wanted at a party, a person avoiding eye contact during an introduction, or even acquaintances not glancing my way often enough while talking in a group I was part of. These micro-social subtleties felt like glaring signs of a disregard for my value and presence. Writing this now, I feel a bit of cringe and a lot of compassion for these past versions of myself.
I’ve done a lot of work over the years—through therapy and relationships with human and non-human kin—to better understand what it means to be “seen” and “unseen.” But the Embodying Shakti series last fall brought up a whole new layer. When we sat with the tantric goddess, Dhumavati, my residual pain and fear of invisibility surfaced in ways I hadn’t expected.
You see, Dhumavati is the Mahavidya often depicted as an ugly, old widow surrounded by crows in a cremation ground. She carries a winnowing basket and sits on a horseless chariot. She embodies what is unseen, invisible, ashy, and dull—and she’s a sacredass mothafuqin’ goddess.
Dull—and sacred?
Dhumavati disrupts everything I thought I knew about what is holy, beautiful, and worthy. She proves that these qualities exist even when one is old, ashy, or alone. My initial reaction to her was anger, annoyance, and judgment…
Why is she carrying a winnowing basket that catches all the stones and shit in the grain that nobody wants?! How utterly sad that she’s on this horseless carriage that’s going no where! Everything about her seems pathetic!
When others in the group spoke of her as a powerful queen, I wanted to barf. But our projections toward these archetypes were part of the work; we created space for them to surface and reveal what we might not be making sacred in ourselves or each other.
For me, feeling unseen often led to making myself—and others—valueless, isolated, and cursed. I blamed or shamed myself and those I felt invisible to. But instead of perpetuating cycles of blame and shame, Dhumavati’s presence and our collective discussion ignited me to confront some of my fears around my aging body, loneliness, and invisibility.
As the eldest daughter and granddaughter on both sides, I grew up with attention equating to significance, worthiness, love, and connection. As a tall woman with “pretty privilege,” I’ve received attention—even when I didn’t want it. As a former professional model for 15 years, I’ve been pedestalized and seen globally yet often in a superficial way. This visibility came with isolation, dehumanizing objectification, and even danger. Beyond this, I often felt unseen in my sensitivity, depth, vulnerability, and quirks. I’ve longed to be seen, and I’ve feared it too. I know I’m not alone here—do you relate?
With Dhumavati’s medicine and a lot more learning and unlearning, I’ve experienced a quantum leap with regards to (in)visibility and connection. Here’s what I’ve been practicing:
1. Identify what I’m really looking for
When I notice myself seeking to be “seen” through eye contact, a nod, or any sign of acknowledgment from others, I pause and ask:
What am I hoping for right now? (ie. validation, connection, approval, recognition, warmth)
What will it mean to me if I get it? (I’m worthy, I belong, people care about me)
How would it feel to give this to myself? (relaxed, free, grounded, authentic)
2. Turn my gaze inward and see myself
Even just asking what it would feel like if I gave validation, approval and warmth to myself opens up the felt possibility for more freedom, relief and authenticity. It’s a shift of focus—and consciousness.
Instead of outsourcing my need for recognition, I ask: Am I showing up for myself in the way I long for someone else to? I speak to myself as I want to be acknowledged: “I see how much heart you’re bringing to this moment, I appreciate that about you.” “You’re here, fully alive, and that’s enough.”
I pay attention to how I feel in my body as I listen, dance, eat, speak, etc. I notice my ten toes on the ground and the energy in my sacral or heart chakras. This shift allows me to center my internal experience—my breath, movement, and sensations—over external cravings. Even when the longing to be seen by others persists, I am more embodied and present within myself.
3. Reframe visibility and remember interconnection
My ego craves to be seen in a particular way, but the truth is, I don’t know how others perceive me, just as they don’t know how I perceive them. Connection doesn’t always equal being seen, and being seen doesn’t always equal connection. I think of my uncle, Anand Masa, who has been fully blind for many years; he cannot see anything, yet he is so connected to his life force and those around him. He connects through his deep listening, his presence and engagement with his environment.
As someone who values reciprocity and mutuality, I’ve equated both with connection. But logic and the ego measure reciprocity and mutuality, while interconnection exists immeasurably. Whether or not I realize it, the trees are breathing me in as I am them, the crows are noticing even remembering me, my steps on the earth impact all the creatures in my vicinity in known and unknown ways. Connection doesn’t always require reciprocity. When I enjoy something even from afar—a flower, the waves of the sea, the way someone moves or adorns themselves, it creates a cord of connection that doesn’t depend on their expressed acknowledgment of me.
By seeing myself, I have more capacity to see others and my environment, creating an offering of connection rather than a request for it. Instead of focusing on what I’m not receiving (e.g., eye contact, acknowledgment), I’ve been shifting toward giving attention. As I see, move, dance and listen, I do so intentionally with warmth radiating from me outward. I feel the connection whether or not others respond. Energy speaks louder than words.
I’m experiencing what it’s like to cultivate a sense of security and connection that isn’t dependent on others’ outward expression or validation. This doesn’t mean I stop desiring connection that is reciprocal, lovingly expressed and validating—it does mean I’m less likely to feel heartbroken and in rage when it doesn’t come in the way I hoped. By seeing myself and remembering the inevitability of connection, the need to be seen becomes less sticky, and I can more clearly see others.
4. See others in sacred witness
I think about an elder in the back of the room—their calm, grounded energy is easily missed when louder voices command attention. This elder though is observant, non-judgmental, aware and not trying to prove anything. They know their presence is contributing balance to the space nevertheless. Unbothered, this elder picks up on the nuances and details of the space— the light, colors, and nervous systems. They see people clearly through the drama, they notice the unspoken dynamics between encounters and beneath social masks. This elder feels like Dhumavati. She’s lived her life, she’s known love and loss, she has nothing left to forgo. Yet she’s here alive and unseen. In this, she is a sacred witness.
Some days during my travels, I’ve felt no desire to be extroverted or assertive in making connections. I’ll be in social spaces—grabbing a meal or practicing yoga—yet words don’t come for others, nor any pulls to engage. On these days, in a budded, contracted state, I’ve wanted to just be quiet and observant. When I’ve remembered Dhumavati in these times, I’ve come to see the sacredness of the witness. To just observe without inserting myself is a vital act, an essential role in the balance and energy of a space. Without the witness, what impact does the artist have if they are not felt? What meaning do the speaker’s lessons hold if they are not heard?
In a hyperactive, YANG-dominant culture that prioritizes action, output, and visibility, being YIN—receptive, spacious, and quiet, is an act of disruption. This, to me, is the activism of the elder baddie, Dhumavati: embodying the wisdom and balance of absence, spaciousness, and non-striving in cultures obsessed with assertion, doing and extroversion.
5. Observe the magic unfold
When I open to learning from Dhumavati, I allow myself to be a sacred witness. Doing or asserting doesn’t determine my value or belonging in any space. I see myself and thereby, have more capacity to see others without wanting or needing something from them. I become clear, giving and present. I let others see me seeing them—the preoccupation of making others uncomfortable with my gaze actually falls away because my witness is an unexpecting gift. I open my heart and the windows to my soul. I am with-ness and belonging with it all.
The irony in all this—recognizing what I’m looking for in being “seen,” turning my gaze inward and seeing myself, reframing visibility and interconnection, and being a sacred witness to others—is that…I am seen more.
I’ve synchronistically and organically met so many beautiful people on my travels so far just by seeing myself in grace and love, by letting others have my gaze for a few beats longer than I would normally, by being a sacred witness to my environment, and by letting people see me seeing them with a smile. I had never known it to be so simple to make friends and to feel so connected in an unknown place.
Once again, Shakti is present in her many forms—protecting, connecting, humbling and freeing me. Jai Ma Jai Ma JAI MA!
Here are some reflection questions inspired by Dhumavati:
What’s your relationship to feeling or being unseen or invisible?
How do you see yourself?
What’s your relationship to loneliness?
What have been some gifts of loneliness?
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Can I get a with-ness? YAAASSS! :)
Seriously, though, I love this piece. It's making me think about how I am aging and I'm no longer seen in ways I used to be seen (aka the young, bright, pretty star) and how I am seen in new ways (wiser, mentor, middle-aged woman with the possibility of a midlife crisis :)
And what keeps mattering most to me, is how I see and love myself, because the rest of perceptions a) I have no control over and b) usually don't matter. I have the choice to feed my inner critic or my inner spirit in each and every moment, so let me use that power. That's what I see in this goddess (who, by the way, stopped my computer scrolling on her image for an inordinately long amount of time). And what I see in you! Love you!
Loved this reflection! As I read it in the wee hours of the early morning, your homegirl, Luna, is beaming with little regard for who is disturbed.
I really enjoyed reading this and as you spoke about your former selves, I was praising you for doing so, so vulnerably in a way that allowed me to extend compassion to the parts of self being reflected back to me as the reader.
Although most of what you shared resonated, #2 really hit!! 🤭
A nugget I’m gonna place in my pocket is,
“Instead of outsourcing my need for recognition, I ask: Am I showing up for myself in the way I long for someone else to?”
Thanks for reading my long winded thank you for sharing reflection! 😅🤗😘