Being Seen: Dissolving the Lens of Conditioning

There was always a discomfort with being in pictures. A subtle avoidance. A quiet pain. Not wanting to be seen, not in that way.

For many, this feeling runs deep. It isn’t about vanity or shyness. It's about something more tender; the sense that to be seen is to be judged, measured, compared. As if there’s an invisible checklist you might not pass. A fear not of the lens itself, but of what it reflects back through the conditioning of the world.

From a young age, roles are assigned. Gender becomes a script. Appearance becomes a currency. And little by little, it’s learned (not explicitly, but through tone, glances, expectations) that worth is conditional. That love is earned through fitting the image.

The mind, trying to protect, begins to reject being seen. "Don’t look," it whispers. "It’s safer in the background."

But as awakening unfolds, these layers begin to soften. The imagined self (the one who needs to look a certain way, act a certain part, be a certain someone) is seen for what it is: a collection of stories. An echo of conditioning. Not who or what we truly are.

In that seeing, the tension begins to dissolve. The aversion becomes less personal. Even the discomfort is allowed to arise and pass, without resistance. There’s no longer a need to protect an image. Being seen, or not being seen; they both become equally free.

This body, this face, this life—not flawed, not ideal—just what is. An appearance in the vastness. A ripple in the ocean of being.

And maybe, over time, even the camera becomes just another part of the scenery. No longer a threat. No longer a mirror. Just a moment, like any other, captured in the unfolding play of life.