# The Art of Beholding
The pure and pious introspect regularly, and in time discover themselves; then God, it is said, leads them to the path of righteousness and eternity. This is the constant theme of Rumi, and I believe there is an alternative meaning to his words—”Look inside yourself; everything that you want, you already are”—one that still eludes me, though I sense its presence.
Perhaps it means this: you are a universe unto yourself, and whatever you desire for yourself dwells within you already. You possess the power to co-create it—that is, whatever you seek, you already carry within. We are also part of a greater universe of creation, whole and complete in itself. You are a mirror of your universe, and the universe mirrors itself back through your reflection.
You know those moments when you are suddenly seized by the beauty of another human being—struck speechless, almost undone? In such an instant, it is as if you are granted eyes to perceive the foundational goodness that has always resided within them, yet somehow comes alive in your presence, if only for a breath. What a gift, what a privilege.
When these luminous moments arrive, all that remains is to hold them. They do not spring from your own making. You simply offer them the sanctuary in which to emerge.
I find myself graced by these encounters with goodness—this catching of it as it alights upon my heart—with regularity, yet they never lose their power to surprise me, to arrive in ways I do not anticipate. I see them in strangers, in friends, in family, in those I hold closest. And when my heart opens truly—even toward those I struggle to love—I glimpse worth there too.
These moments remind me that beneath our differences, we each carry unique reflections of our divine inheritance, woven into the very fabric of what makes us human.
When I served as a counselor with the pastoral care team at a large urban hospital, this noticing, this beholding, became my cherished practice. I could never summon it by will, yet it would bloom at times when I opened my heart and mind in trust. Presence was its soil; grace its nature; mystery its manifestation.
There was the woman dying of pancreatic cancer, newly diagnosed mere months before. I watched her bitterness at the life being stolen from her dissolve into gratitude for the life she had been granted the honor to live.
And the man in cardiac care, waiting for a heart to become available—waiting, that is, for someone to die. I witnessed his carefully maintained cheerfulness crack open into tears of utter powerlessness, revealing the question beneath: *Will I wake up alive? I do not know.*
To rest in ambiguity beside another—to sit with them there—is to share a solidity deeper than the certainty we naturally crave.
To be present for moments such as these is nothing short of miraculous. For me, it is the greatest privilege of existence.
Like the vast mountain landscape that opens suddenly beyond the tree line—a sight that arrests you in wordless wonder.
Such moments of divine recognition visit us in nature as well. Indeed, they were born there and never cease. I will never forget the Easter morning, years ago, when I walked toward church through the kindling spring air. As the fresh breath of the season filled my lungs, my eyes fell upon a crocus—brilliant, audacious—that had thrust its delicate bloom through mud and melting snow beside the path.
I never did reach the church that day. It seemed I had already arrived. I had already witnessed the Resurrection before my own eyes. That small flower sang “Hallelujah!” with a majesty no hymn or sermon could match.
Such moments of noticing carry a double blessing. They shimmer with glory precisely because they speak not only of the goodness without, but of the goodness within. They tell us something not only about what we perceive, but about the perceiver: myself, yourself, ourselves.
The sacred in others and in all things has a way of awakening what already lives—or struggles to be born—within us. For we cannot recognize Goodness in another or elsewhere unless we have somehow already known it in ourselves.
This is the very heart of the word “Namaste”: the Light in me recognizes the Light in you; the Divine in me bows to the Divine in you. No wonder Jesus spoke so often of eyes that truly see!
I was blessed not long ago when a friend showed me my own divine spark reflected back. As I gazed upon her tender face, her eyes that seemed to hold the whole world, I named the beauty I beheld.
She answered simply: “I’m just a mirror.”
That luminous reply held me suspended in a communion beyond time, beyond measure.
My breath caught. *Wait… What? Me?* Words abandoned me, yet my open heart knew no limit to such abundance. I was cradled in the goodness I had recognized in her—a goodness that was somehow also my own.
What greater gift exists than to reflect another’s belovedness back to them?
We are all mirrors, if we choose to be. Let us attend! Let us wake! Notice the goodness that surrounds you. Then allow it to nourish the seed within you—the very seed that taught you to recognize it elsewhere.
In the words of the Sufi poet Hafiz: “I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” May we be brave enough to affirm the goodness in others. And may we overflow, naturally and freely, with all that has been given us.
Whatever we desire, we can attain. We need only reach toward our truest goal.
# The Power of Determination and the Mirror of the Soul
There is an immense power behind us, and that power is determination and steadfastness—sustaining us, propelling us forward toward our ultimate present and future. Determination wedded to belief in our own capability and capacity will certainly draw us toward our goal. At every step, our Lord will surely aid us.
It is a genuinely luminous message for human beings—for we are fragments of God himself. God created all that exists in this world, and within the human body, hidden in the human heart, dwells something infinite: the soul.
The soul is a precious gift from God, bestowed uniquely upon human beings. It is a mirror.
Yet we cannot see or discover all that we seek, because our souls—these mirrors—lie covered with dust and mud, with evil and malice. God is pure, untainted by all corruption. Should our souls become pure likewise, then everything will rest in the palm of our hand. We will see in this world what we truly wish to behold.
According to Rumi, introspection and self-discovery lead toward righteousness and eternity. He teaches that we already possess within ourselves everything we desire, and that we possess the power to co-create it. We are also woven into a greater universe that is complete and whole unto itself. Sometimes we stand transfixed by the beauty of another, and in that moment we are reminded that we all bear unique reflections of our divine inheritance, threaded through the very fabric of our humanity. These moments of divine recognition arise in nature and in other souls—a double blessing, for they speak to the goodness not only without us but also within. We cannot recognize goodness in anything or anyone unless we have somehow already known it, dwelling within our own hearts.