“I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being!”
— Hafiz
“You are so beautiful, You are the most wonderful. If only you could see … what I see.
You can dance, you can sing, you can laugh, you can see, you can love, you can cry, you can know, you can be…
you are the most beautiful.”
— John Adorney, Lyrics of “If a Rose Could Speak”
Dear friend,
There’s a meditation I teach called Seeing Yourself Through the Eyes of a Loved One, and it is among the most powerful practices I share. It often brings up deep emotion, sometimes tears, sometimes profound stillness, and sometimes a gentle breakthrough of self-recognition.
We’ve all heard phrases like “I’m my own worst critic” or “I would never speak to others the way I speak to myself.” It’s true. So many of us walk around with a running commentary in our minds that is harsh, judgmental, and unforgiving. While not everyone lives this way, it’s surprisingly common—especially in our modern, achievement-driven, comparison-heavy culture.
Some people naturally lean toward self-compassion. Others wrestle with an ingrained inner critic. And many hover somewhere in between. But in my experience, it is those of us who struggle the most with self-love who are most deeply touched by this meditation.
There’s a saying that you must love yourself in order to truly love others. And I believe that’s what Jesus was pointing to in his second great commandment: Love your neighbor as yourself.
Not instead of yourself. Not more than yourself. But as yourself.
Which implies—first and foremost—that we are to extend to others the same care we extend to ourselves.
But what if we don’t treat ourselves with love at all?
This is one reason I don’t teach this meditation to beginners, and I don’t teach it in groups. There are too many variables, too many personal histories and deep wounds that deserve to be held with individual attention and care. For someone who has endured trauma or lived for years in environments where they weren’t loved—or weren’t safe—being seen, even in imagination, can feel overwhelming.
But for those who are on the edge of awakening—for those who have cultivated a little ground of self-kindness, who are developing the tolerance to receive love—this meditation can be transformative.
And yes, I said tolerance to receive love.
Because for many people, being loved is uncomfortable. Even painful. When we’ve internalized unworthiness, someone else’s care can feel foreign—or threatening. This meditation gently explores that threshold.
How the Practice Works
The meditation begins simply.
I invite the student to sit quietly in a chair and bring to mind someone they are absolutely sure loves them—unconditionally. It might be a close friend, a grandparent, a teacher, a spiritual figure, or even a beloved pet. If unconditional love feels too far away, we start with someone they know, without a doubt, wants the best for them.
We ground first.
Breath. Body awareness. Stillness.
Then we begin visualizing this loved one sitting in a chair directly across from them. The student imagines their presence in vivid detail—their clothes, posture, softness, energy. Then we focus on the face… the eyes.
When the student feels ready, I guide them to let their consciousness flow over into the body of their loved one—to see themselves through their eyes.
The effect can be profound.
Some students cry.
Some tremble.
Some sit in stillness with a look of awe on their faces.
Eventually, I ask them to return to their own point of view and gaze once more upon the loved one. I guide them to hear in their mind what this loved one believes about them—and then to silently offer back gratitude and appreciation.
It is often in this exchange—this simple expression of thanks—that something clicks. A door opens. It becomes possible to feel loved.
And more than that, to begin—perhaps for the first time—to love oneself.
A Gentle Taste (Mini Meditation)
If you’d like a little taste of this practice right now, I invite you to pause for just a moment.
Close your eyes.
Take a few slow breaths.
And bring to mind someone—anyone—who truly, deeply cares for you.
Imagine them sitting across from you. See their face. Their warmth. Their love for you.
Now imagine looking back at yourself through their eyes.
What do they see?
What do they know about you that you tend to forget?
Let that gaze rest on you for a few moments.
And when you’re ready, silently say to them:
Thank you. I see now what you’ve always seen in me.
This is sacred work.
And if you feel ready to explore it more deeply, I’d love to share it with you in Koru 2.0 or a one-on-one session.
With care,
Bob Martin
A Wise and Happy Life
