What If We Saw Each Other Again?
When was the last time you looked at someone you know well—and allowed yourself to see them anew?
No rehearsing yesterday’s argument.
No deciding what they’ll say next.
Just a moment of curiosity about the person in front of you.
Last Sunday, I officiated my first Taoist wedding ceremony.
As part of the ceremony, I asked the couple to look into each other’s eyes as if they were seeing each other for the first time.
"For a moment, set aside everything you think you know about the person in front of you, set aside every story you have about them, and just see them as if it were the first time. Look into their eyes and experience their soul."
This "seeing" is a practice I have created for myself with my family and friends, especially when I begin to feel upset or resentful.
I pause, take a breath, and look into their eyes.
Rather than going over my story about them, I allow myself to witness them.
I begin to soften and drop into my heart.
I’m no longer looking only at the person who upset me.
I’m seeing someone I love.
It doesn’t erase what happened or mean we don’t need to have a difficult conversation.
But it changes the place within me from which that conversation can begin.
I bring this same intention to my clients.
I love meeting someone for the first time, but I also want to meet you freshly when you return.
You may have been here before, but you are not simply the person you were last time.
I want to remain curious about who you are today.
Walking the Circle During the wedding ceremony, I asked the couple to walk in a circle three times. As they walked, I invited them to think about how they would keep their relationship fresh. 
Marriage and relationships can be challenging spiritual journeys because much of everyday life repeats itself.
Get up.
Make breakfast.
Go to work.
Come home.
Make dinner.
Tidy up.
Go to bed.
There is comfort in that rhythm.
But somewhere within it, we can stop noticing each other.
We know the routine so well that we begin to believe we know everything about the person sharing it with us.
As the couple walked, I wanted them to consider what they would bring into that circle, again and again. How would they make room for laughter?
For affection?
For discovering something they hadn’t noticed before?
In other words: How would they keep their relationship fresh every day?
We don’t have to discard the life we’ve built to experience something new within it.
Sometimes we begin by giving it our attention again. |
What Needs to Fall Away? In our closest relationships, we can carry so much without realizing it.
An expectation of who someone should be.
A resentment we keep rehearsing.
The belief that we already know them completely.
This fall, I keep looking at the trees.
As their leaves fall, I'm reminded that letting go is part of the cycle of life.
The branches become bare—not as an ending, but as a way to make space.
In spring, fresh leaves emerge.
It makes me wonder: What in my relationships needs to fall away so something fresher can take its place?
What new ways of being do I want to welcome in?
Perhaps curiosity.
Tenderness.
A sense of play.
The willingness to receive care or ask for support.
Laughing at myself.
Something that helps the relationship feel alive again. |
Meeting You Here  That is part of why I love this work.
I get to pause with someone, look them in their eyes, and offer my attention.
To meet them without deciding in advance who they are or what their experience should be.
Whether it’s your first ceremony or you’ve been coming to see me for years, I want room for who you are now.
Perhaps this autumn isn’t only asking us to let go of what is no longer vital.
Perhaps it’s asking us to pick up something we’ve been missing: tenderness, pleasure, connection, or the willingness to be cared for.
If you’ve been carrying a lot, I welcome you to come spend some time with me in a Healing Tao Ceremony.
My intention is to meet you with fresh eyes and an open heart.
With love, Arorah |
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