The Eye of the Beholder

by Sidney S. Stark

“Don’t see me, don’t see me!” begged the little girl as she clung to my hand and desperately tried to hide behind me when we walked down the street. She meant, “Don’t pay attention to me,” of course. Her gossamer pink fairy costume and shimmering silver crown of stars perched on her head of short blond curls made the granting of that wish unlikely. It was broad daylight in the middle of a busy Manhattan sidewalk with hoards of people scurrying to their destinations in business clothes. The pink fairy in her costume stood out. She reminded people that it was Halloween and they’d better get home on time to assist their own fairies and goblins with trick-or-treating in a few hours. Many of them smiled at her and some even murmured something about how sweet she looked. Each glance from a stranger increased the pressure of her tiny hand in mine.
She cringed further behind me until I was twisted like a barber pole with a sparkling bauble wrapped around it. One more step and we’d both end up in heap on the sidewalk. It was time for me to stop, get down to her level and try to negotiate with her qualms. I was sure the obstruction we made in the middle of the stream of Lexington Avenue pedestrian traffic wasn’t going to contribute to her anonymity; but her anxiety had to be dealt with right there. “P-L-E-A-S-E don’t see me,” she whimpered up at no one in particular. Her untrimmed baby nails were cutting into my palm with an insistence that required immediate attention.
Squatting in the street to face her I finally came eye to eye with my fairy god daughter. She smeared a few tears across her cheek with the back of her free hand. This desire to go unnoticed was not one I’d ever experienced in my own childhood. In fact, I usually picked the highest platform I could find to call out for attention from. No matter, her distress was real and I had to deal with it.
“I know you don’t like being stared at but you see that nobody else on the street is dressed in a fairy costume and so you stand out. If you don’t want to be noticed at all then you have to blend in better.” She had a frown on her face but at least she’d stopped crying. I could see her calculating every word I said but she hung her head and pulled her body slightly away from me in protest. Maybe I’d taken the wrong tact for a five year old but I was committed to it for the moment so continued into her stubborn silence. “Do you remember the book we were reading the other day about the animals and insects and what they wear?’
“They don’t wear anything. They’re born that way.” She was with me at last.
“Yes they are, but the point is that’s what they look like to the rest of the world. Do you remember how some of them have bright colored feathers or coats or…or whatever a bug’s outside is made of?
“Yes”
“…and do you remember that the ones who don’t want to be seen at all have feathers and coats that just blend right in to their surroundings so they won’t stand out?”
“Yes.” The frown receded slowly and I could tell she was ready.
“Okay…so if you don’t want anyone to notice you it’s important not to wear things that make you stand out. The costume does matter. You should see how much time is spent at my dance studio in choosing just the right costume to tell the story we want. Some of the dancers need to blend together because they’re the background to the story and some need to stand out so people pay attention to them since they’re the ones who tell what’s happening. Everything from the way a skirt moves to the color it is gets discussed over and over again.”
“But I’m not on a stage so why do people look at me?”
“Sure you are. Not a wooden one in a theater, but everything’s a kind of stage. One of the most famous playwrights in the world named Shakespeare said “all the world’s a stage or something like that, and he’s always right.” I could see she was totally relaxed now but possibly losing the point. That was my fault.
“Some of them don’t look at me at all.” The Halloween fairy’s little voice tugged me back. “If my clothes are so bright why don’t some of them see me?”
‘Good question,’ I thought to myself. “It’s all in the eye of the beholder,” I said to the inquisitive little face stuck so close to mine now. “It all depends on what’s going on inside them. Some people’s vision turns inward all the time and they focus only on themselves.”
“But eyes are on the outside,” my god daughter offered with a pout.
“There’s another one on the inside.” I stood up slowly to allow some blood to re-circulate around my jackknifed knees. “People have to keep the inner eye wide open to let in all the light and sounds to feel and see things. She looked up with confident curiosity at the pedestrians all around us. She’d forgotten about the smiles and stares from some of them. She was suddenly more concerned with the ones who didn’t look at her.
“So some don’t see me no matter what I wear, right?”
“Right! And they can’t appreciate how pretty you look… or how beautiful a bird is or how lovely a violin sounds because they’re not open inside. It’s all in the eye…”
“…of the beholder!” she echoed as we stepped out hand in hand. The fairy was sparkling again as she looked up and met the appreciative gazes of the people passing by who smiled openly back at her.*
* My god daughter is a beautiful eighteen year old now with soft blue eyes and long blond waist-length hair. She’s six feet tall. It’s a good thing she’s comfortable with the eye of the beholder.

Question@You: Does awareness of personal appearance indicate early narcissism in a child or healthy comfort with thier own persona? Please leave a comment.

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