Seeing with Other Eyes, Hearing with Other Ears

On intuition, embodied perception, and learning to trust what we experience without needing to understand everything.

I have been thinking a great deal lately about perception.

About the ways we see, hear, feel, and experience the world.

And about how much of what we perceive happens beyond our immediate conscious awareness.

Recently, while reading Ruby Gibson's My Body, My Earth, I came across a reflection about learning to see with other eyes and hear with other ears.

Something about those words stayed with me.

Perhaps because they spoke to experiences I have had myself.

Perhaps because they invited me to consider how much more there might be to explore.

I wrote in my journal that I felt capable of both, yet sensed that I had barely begun to discover what might be possible.

And that curiosity has continued to grow.

What Does It Mean to See?

We tend to think of seeing as something we do with our eyes.

We look at the world, recognise shapes and colours, and make sense of what is in front of us.

But there are other ways in which we use the language of seeing.

We speak about seeing a situation differently.

Seeing beyond appearances.

Seeing something in ourselves that we had not recognised before.

Sometimes an image appears in our imagination without our consciously deciding to create it.

Sometimes we experience an inner picture, a memory, or a sudden association that seems to arrive unexpectedly.

And sometimes we have a sense of understanding before we can explain how we arrived there.

I find these experiences fascinating.

Not because I believe every inner image carries a hidden message.

But because they remind me that human perception is complex, layered, and deeply influenced by our experiences.

In my own spiritual exploration, I have sometimes understood certain experiences as a form of inner seeing.

I am still learning what that means to me.

And perhaps I don't need to define it too quickly.

Listening Beyond Words

The same curiosity arises for me when I think about hearing.

Of course, we hear sounds.

Voices. Music. The wind moving through trees. The rhythm of our own breathing.

But listening can also involve noticing what is not being said.

The pauses between words.

A change in someone's tone.

The way our attention shifts when something feels important.

There are moments when we sense that something deserves our attention, even before we can clearly articulate why.

In somatic work, I am learning how valuable it can be to listen with more than our thoughts alone.

To notice our own responses.

To become aware of sensations, emotions, and subtle changes in attention.

And to remain curious about what these experiences might mean.

But I also believe that listening deeply requires humility.

What I sense within myself does not necessarily tell me what another person is experiencing.

An impression is not the same as knowing.

An intuition is not the same as evidence.

And an image or feeling that arises within me does not automatically belong to someone else's story.

This distinction feels especially important when accompanying others.

Perhaps deep listening is not about knowing more, but about becoming more willing to notice without immediately deciding what something means.

What About Our Other Senses?

As I continued reflecting on Gibson's writing, another question emerged.

Why do we so often speak about inner seeing and inner hearing?

What about the other senses?

Could intuition also be experienced through taste?

Through smell?

Through touch?

Through the felt sense of the body?

I found myself genuinely curious.

We already know that our senses are deeply connected to memory and emotion.

A particular scent can bring us back to a childhood experience.

A taste can remind us of someone we love.

A familiar texture can evoke comfort or discomfort before we consciously understand why.

Our bodies are constantly receiving and interpreting information.

And yet, the spiritual question remains interesting to me.

Are there forms of subjective sensory experience that we have not yet learned to recognise or describe?

How do we distinguish imagination, memory, intuition, and perception?

And what happens when we approach these questions without needing to arrive at immediate conclusions?

I don't have definitive answers.

But I enjoy the questions.

The Body as a Place of Discovery

One of the things I appreciate most about somatic exploration is the invitation to become curious about what is happening within us.

Not only what we think.

But what we sense.

What we notice.

What changes when we slow down.

Sometimes I become aware of a sensation that had been present for some time without my noticing it.

Sometimes an emotion becomes clearer when I pay attention to how it feels in my body.

Sometimes an image, a memory, or an unexpected association arises.

And sometimes nothing particularly remarkable happens.

I think all of these experiences deserve room.

We do not have to turn every sensation into a message.

We do not have to interpret every image.

And we do not have to search for extraordinary experiences in order for awareness to be meaningful.

There is already so much to discover in the ordinary experience of being alive.

The movement of our breath.

The contact between our feet and the ground.

The way our attention changes throughout the day.

The subtle difference between feeling settled and feeling overwhelmed.

For me, these everyday experiences are just as worthy of curiosity as the more mysterious ones.

Intuition and Discernment

I have been thinking about the relationship between intuition and discernment.

Intuition can feel immediate.

A knowing that seems to arrive before conscious reasoning.

A sense of direction.

An impression that draws our attention toward something.

And I believe it can be meaningful to explore these experiences.

But I also recognise that what feels intuitive may be influenced by memory, expectation, fear, desire, and previous experiences.

Our minds are constantly making associations, often outside conscious awareness.

This doesn't make intuition meaningless.

It simply reminds me that our interpretations deserve care.

Especially when our impressions concern other people.

I want to remain open to what arises within me while also being willing to question it.

To recognise that I may be mistaken.

To distinguish what I experience from what I know.

And to allow uncertainty to remain part of the exploration.

For me, trusting my perception does not mean believing every impression is true. It means being willing to notice my experience while remaining curious about its meaning.

The Possibility of Not Knowing

Perhaps what draws me most to these questions is not the possibility of discovering extraordinary abilities.

It is the experience of remaining open.

Open to the complexity of human perception.

Open to the relationship between body, mind, imagination, and memory.

Open to spiritual questions that may not have clear answers.

And open to recognising the limits of what I understand.

I think there is something beautiful about being able to say:

I don't know yet.

Not as a dismissal.

But as an invitation.

An invitation to explore without needing to prove.

To experience without immediately explaining.

To remain grounded while allowing room for wonder.

Learning to Listen Differently

As I continue my studies and my own inner exploration, I find myself becoming increasingly interested in the quality of attention.

What happens when I slow down enough to notice what I usually overlook?

What becomes available when I listen without immediately interpreting?

What changes when I allow my senses, my thoughts, and my bodily experience to be part of the same conversation?

And perhaps most importantly:

Can I remain open to mystery without losing my capacity for discernment?

I hope so.

Because I don't want my curiosity to become certainty.

And I don't want my desire to understand to take away the wonder of experiencing.

I want to continue learning.

To question.

To listen.

To notice.

And to allow my understanding to evolve.

Perhaps seeing with other eyes and hearing with other ears is not only about discovering something beyond our ordinary senses.

Perhaps it is also about learning to meet our ordinary experience with a different quality of attention.

One that is curious enough to wonder, humble enough not to know, and grounded enough to remain present.

And for now, that feels like a beautiful place to begin.

An invitation to reflect

Have you ever experienced a moment of inner knowing, an unexpected image, or a sensation that invited you to pay closer attention?

How did you relate to that experience?

And what might happen if you approached your own perception with both curiosity and discernment?

With warmth,

Nallely