When I was little, I played hide and seek with my two older brothers. One of them would hide, and us seekers would scamper around, peeking under tables and checking behind doors. Inevitably, the hider would be discovered, and joyful laughter would ensue!
Since I was much smaller than the boys, I could hide in places they couldn’t. I remember my best hiding spot was the linen closet, stuffed to bursting with bath towels, fluffy comforters, and old quilts. After closing the door behind me, I stealthily tunneled my way to the back corner of the closet, careful not to disturb the blankets too much. Nestled in a world of softness, I remained silent and still. I could make out my brothers’ muffled voices, sometimes quite close, sometimes farther away. I continued to remain silent and still, feeling quite safe if a bit squished in my hideout. What fun!
After a long while, the tenor of their voices changed from playful to concerned. Eventually, my mother’s voice joined in, and I heard the panicked sound of my name ringing out. So, I crawled out and dramatically revealed my location.
“Wow! We couldn’t find you! You’re so good at hiding!” my brothers said.
“You’re too good at hiding. You scared me!” my mother told me.
My young body-mind swelled with all sorts of thoughts and feelings:
-Pride at being singled out and recognized as being good at something.
-Guilt for believing I had scared my mother, along with a burgeoning idea that I had the power to control other people’s feelings.
-Safety in the feeling that I could genuinely hide from others if I wanted to.
-Simple enjoyment of a game well played.
-Weird comfort and satisfaction with all of it.
Our Hide and Seek games continued as we grew. We played everywhere: outdoors, at my grandmother’s house, and even when we were out shopping. I used to adore hiding inside those circular metal clothing racks at department stores, especially the ones that held long dresses or coats. I even became pretty decent at hiding in plain sight as one of the display mannequins! The longer I could stay hidden, the more concerned the seekers became. The more concerned the seekers became, the more masterful and accomplished I felt. I believed in my power and skill when it came to Hide and Seek.
As the years passed, I stopped playing the game with my brothers, but I sure played it with myself.
I hid behind excellent grades and achievements; I sought praise, attention, and admiration.
I hid behind titles, degrees, and certifications; I sought respect, value, and importance.
I hid behind so much food and the inevitably resulting obese body; I sought pleasure, numbing and repression of feelings, and protection from sexual attention.
I hid behind meticulously curated words; I sought connection, resonance, and acclaim from others.
I hid behind so many beliefs, but particularly the belief of a separate, discrete Self; I sought safety, groundedness, and the specialness of individuality.
In reflecting upon all of this Hiding and Seeking, I have rediscovered what my sweet little self experienced before her mind began making meaning out of all this activity…
It is all just a game.
Perhaps the point (or lack thereof) of this lifelong game of Hide and Seek is simply the play itself! The contraction of the hiding, and the expansion of the seeking is the pattern by which Life moves. What excitement in the activity of it! The fright that drives us into hiding! The delight of believing there is something to be found in the seeking! This is the impersonal, energetic movement of the Universe on human display. What fun!
I find myself joyfully laughing once again!