20/20 Vision

We've all been there. Palms sweaty, forehead pressed against the optometrist reading machine, eyes gazing through its lens trying to decipher the letters the doctor keeps flicking to as you read through the lines. From biggest to smallest - a test of how clearly you can really see. What appear to be floating specks of dust to the naked eye, slowly becoming harder and harder to make out until you're squinting at the bottom line wondering if it's an A, an I, an O, or a U — but of course, it's the one time it's a Y. And somehow, your doctor applauds you.

"20/20 vision, my dear."

A testament to blind faith. And then you sashay out of that office knowing you can now brag about your 20/20 vision. But what does it actually mean to see clearly? What if perfect vision isn't about seeing things as they are, but about seeing things as they could be, and having the faith to call that the truth?

I was writing a wedding speech for one of my oldest friends when this really settled in me. We’ve been tied at the hip for over half our lives. The only word that kept arriving was perfect, which is the same word I would use for her and her husband.

The through line is simple.

The greatest act of love is to see someone as already perfect. Not who they were on their worst day, or when they are scared or in a mood. It's to see the highest version of them and to hold that vision steadily enough that eventually they have no choice but to grow into it.

You may object and say that seeing someone as already perfect and growth are a contradiction — but you'd be missing the point. Observing perfection means you recognize that the most extraordinary version of them already exists out of all the possible ways you can see them — fully formed, fully true — and that what we call growth is simply the rest of the world, and sometimes even themselves, catching up to what was always there.

You are not inventing their perfection. You are remembering it for them until they remember it too.

To see is a verb. So is to love. Which means, when that person you love is mid-spiral, leaning in and saying: "In my world you are already perfect. And that version of you isn't stressed about this. So keep on shining."

Anything less than observing perfection is a quiet form of self-destruction. People can only show up as the story you are telling about them. Choose the story you want to experience.

When it came to making their wedding present, I had to nod at this. The eye chart goes from biggest to smallest. Most of us struggle at the bottom line. It's a lot to ask of the human eye, but no match for what the heart sees.

I flipped it, because expansion is what happens when you practice seeing perfection in the people you love. It doesn't get smaller. Line by line, it becomes the only thing you can see.

What we observe grows. So check your vision, but not the one the optometrist measures. Because no matter the prescription they give you, you are really the only person who can know which pair of lenses you are actually wearing.

When is the last time you got yours checked?