You Can’t Just Unsee It
I was probably in elementary school when I was first shown the picture , originally entitled “My Wife and My Mother-In-Law” and asked — what do you see? You’ve likely seen the picture as well.
What did you see first? Was it the old or the young woman? How long did it take you to see the other? Now, if you are like me, every time you see that picture you see both images. You can’t, by choice, never see the second image again. Sure, there may be times when the image comes up that you see the old woman first. And others when you see the young woman first. We’ll ignore the psychologists, and neuroscientists in the corner, arguing about Gestalt switches and such. Regardless, when you have the picture up for a moment, you will see both. It is even likely that, when you see the picture, you actively look for both images.
I think it was the 90’s when printing technology hit a level that hidden 3D images became the rage. You couldn’t walk through a mall without seeing a store front with a 3D poster or book in the window. People would stop and stare, crossing their eyes, trying to focus just past the poster in hopes of seeing whatever image was ‘hidden’ in the picture.
Those of us with difficulty seeing numbers in ink dots and astigmatism didn’t fare well in these endeavors. I wanted to see what the people around me saw. They would point out parts of airplanes or skylines and I’d try to see it. Sometimes I thought I could make out a shadow of an edge but, the image would never come into focus. Meanwhile, I’d watch as one ‘seer’ pointed out what he saw to another seeker and, after a bit of scrutiny the latter would be excitedly agreeing and pointing out details that he could now see.
The people who could see the images were sometimes incredulous that I couldn’t. “Really? It is so plain once you see it.” Or the little girl walking by a poster with her mother, pointing and commenting, “Look, mommy, it’s a teddy bear.” Meanwhile, I walk by and see only a circle of colorful dots and lines.
I will admit to a bit of frustration, both at my inability to see these images and the insistence of those who could — and thought that with a little more cajoling, I would be able to as well. I still try, when I occasionally run across one of these images, to see what is in it. But, even fairly assured that it is not a tremendous hoax (I actually lean toward the theory that my astigmatism may be adversely affecting my stereo vision) and that others are actually seeing an image within the image that I can see, I just can’t see it. And, I’m sure that, as with the image of the two ladies, they can’t just unsee the images that I have never seen.
Then you have the artwork of M. C. Escher.
All of the examples I’ve addressed so far are dubbed optical illusions. We use that expression popularly these days as a dismissive. But that is a topic for another day. These illusions work for different reasons. The first is simply because our brains want to make patterns. The second, second because stereoscopic vision is a physical reality (for those of us with two properly functioning eyes) coupled with a brain process that most of the time works to keep us from having headaches from double-vision. The third is just a cognitive mind cramp. Escher put together images that counter our perception of reality. And, even though you can break down the works into pieces that make sense, the picture as a whole tends to overwhelm your sense of all that is right and you end up looking like the confused pup — head tiltled a little, perhaps whimpering.
All of these optical illusions, when revealed (and I assume that if my astigmatism and color perception deficiency were corrected, even hidden 3D pictures) leave you with a different perception that you, without intention or a sharp blow to the head, can’t just unsee.
And this is not relegated solely to optical processing. If you take a moment, you will find many examples of this in your history and all around you even today. Do you recall struggling through a math class, just not able to get ‘it’ when, either through repitition or another example something just clicked and you could see how that math problem worked? From then on (until you buried it from lack of use some years later) any time you saw that type of problem you saw the answer — or at least the steps to get to the answer. In this case it is called learning — but the principle applies. You go along not seeing until you do. Then you can’t just unsee.
You think dogs and elephants are oddly telepathic until you learn that their communication is just at a frequency range outside of your audible capabilities. Then your perception of their actions is forever altered. When your dog reacts suddenly to something you don’t see (or hear, in this case) you attribute it to her hearing something that you can’t. And, you may be right. You can’t, as it were, unsee that bit of information. And, you’ll likely live, as infrequently as it may come up, in accordance with that bit of knowledge.
There are many more examples but I’ll leave it to you to ponder them on your own. Well, all but one.
Unlike many of the aforementioned examples, there is one area of reality that you cannot get to by reasoning alone, crossing your eyes, or the cajoling of ‘seers’. This is the area of the supernatural, or, more specifically, in the existence of a God who loves you.
You may have experienced those people who see the man Jesus in that way. They see, in him, the way to God. They see the one who paid the penalty for their sins and forgave them. And you just can’t see it.
I am one of those people and I can’t just unsee it. Would you do me the favor of following along with me for just a bit longer as I unwind how I got here?
I was born to a loving mother and father in the rural south — long before the internet and cell phones. My mother was a believer and my father was not. This lends itself to a discussion I have with youth when the opportunity arises — but, that’ll have to be another story for another day.
Around the time I was six years old, my mother, possibly seeing some of my father’s characteristics manifesting too readily in my life, decided that it was time I should start going to church. So, she took me. She took me, as was the pattern in those days, three times a week — Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night.
In that part of the country, and in those days, we didn’t have a wealth of seminary trained PHds filling our pulpits. We had, generally, working men who had felt the call of God to preach. And most of them only knew, really deep down knew, one thing. And that was the topic of every sermon, three times a week, regardless of the biblical context. Jesus Christ loves you. And he died for your sins. Believe and be free.
For my sake, it is probably a good thing that these men (we moved a couple times and changed churches when we did) didn’t have a more eloquent message. It probably would have just gone over my head or led me to more academic pursuits (which came later, appropriately). As it was, I heard the same simple message at least three times a week from the time I was six until I was twelve.
Then, one morning, probably around six in the morning (the little church mom and I were attending was having what they called a sunrise revival service for the week. Now, it would be too harsh, and wrong-minded of me to call that an outright lie but I don’t recall ever seeing the sun rise before five a.m. — until I was stationed in Japan — but that is also another story for another day.) the light, as it were, went off for me. I had heard altar calls (think Billy Graham sermon endings but much, much smaller) easily a thousand times by this point in my church-going. But this particular morning, it was as if God Himself said to me, Keith, I love you. Jesus died for your sins. Accept my forgiveness.
I had come to church that morning because mama told me to. I had come expecting the bite-sized, melt in your mouth biscuits that one of the grandmothers of that congregation made so we’d have breakfast after the service, before we went to school or work. I got that — and a revelation of God. And, I can’t just unsee it — as it were.
As an aside, you may be wondering how bad a 12 year-old can be. If you were not that kind of kid, good. I hope you never fully understand. If you were, well, you probably have no problem imagining. Either way, I’m not going to give you all the details here. It would probably come off sounding like bragging. And I usually reserve those details for people that are physically close to me so that I convey the meaning more accurately. Suffice it to say that I was my father’s son.
From that morning, I engaged with the sermons, lessons, and Bible studies in a radically different way. Those activities were no longer academic exercises I had to do. They somehow had life in them.
But, just like the individual that stops working on math problems and becomes less proficient, having buried what they know, I decided to go a contrary way as well. Despite this meeting with God, I added drugs to my previous vices. I couldn’t unsee what had happened that morning but I wanted my way. So, I pursued it headlong — finding that a guilty conscience can be mostly drowned out.
I’ll spare you the years of story but summarize it in two people — or groups as the case may be.
The first was a group of guys who, when we met, told me that, if I proclaimed to be a believer, I should probably act like one. That began several relationships that revived the desire to know God and helped me understand what that looked like in ‘real life’. Through all my self-serving life I still had not been able to unsee what I had seen. I was able to cover it. Stick my fingers in my ears and sing ‘la la la’ to drown it out. But never unsee it.
The second, who is still a father-figure to me, picked up where the other guys left off — when I transferred from Japan to, eventually ,San Antonio. Just like good fathers, he would let me tag along and watch his life and pick up skills that I saw him perform. We talked. He observed. He asked questions. And he gave me opportunities.
There were others in between those two. And there are others now. Much like math — or Escher, if you don’t keep the reality in active view, you can wander away from it. Not because it is not real but because, like with the first image, the world, is large, persistent, and influential in all our lives. If you focus on the hag, you can lose sight of the beautiful woman — even though you know she is there.
These days, I also pursue the academic side of this belief — with all its difficulties and misuses. I pursue the understanding of sciences and other religions — with the challenges and even derision that comes from those pursuits. I have had one of those life experiences that some use as justification to walk away from their faith. I will confess that I didn’t handle it well and it took years for me to come out of the darkness. But mostly, I purpose, every day, to live relationally with the God who called me in the wee hours of that southern morning. Because I can’t just unsee it.
I wish I could help you see ‘it’ as well. But I do encourage you to look. Because, one day, He might just reveal Himself to you. And then, you won’t be able to just unsee it either.
