Griffith Observatory: On Being Seen

High above Los Angeles, Griffith Observatory shines like a steady beacon. Its light is familiar to anyone who glances toward the hills at night, a kind of nightlight for the city. It helps us feel oriented, reminding us of something constant above the sprawl. Even its name—the observatory—conjures the experience of being seen.

And being seen is one of our most basic human needs. From infancy onward, we rely on the recognition of others to know ourselves and to feel real.

Across our lives we carry this gaze inside. We develop inner observers that watch over us—some encouraging, some critical. At their best, they help us stay grounded and connected. At their harshest, they fuel self-doubt and shame.

The Comfort of Being Seen

From the moment we are born, visibility is survival. A baby who is held, mirrored, and smiled at begins to feel real in the world. This recognition builds the foundation of self. Without it, children can feel invisible, disconnected, or unsure of their worth.

As adults, we still seek out the steadying presence of recognition. It shows up in partners who notice our moods, in friends who remember details that matter, in communities where we feel like our presence counts. These moments of being acknowledged remind us that our lives are not unfolding in isolation.

Inner Observers

But not all seeing is comforting. Many of us grew up under watchful eyes that criticized, measured, or judged. Over time, those external gazes become internal voices. In the language of parts work, these “inner observers” are not minor thoughts that pass through the mind—they are important components of our personalities. They watch, comment, and often direct how we move through the world.

The difficulty is that we usually live with them as if we have no choice. A critical inner observer speaks up, and we take its words as fact. We rarely pause to “meet” these observers in any meaningful way. We don’t ask what role they’ve been playing, what they are trying to protect, or whether they still serve us. Instead, we let them run the show, often without realizing it.

A New Way of Seeing

Therapy becomes a place to bring these inner observers into the open. Clients begin to notice their tone, their intentions, and their impact. Sometimes an inner critic is trying to shield us from risk; sometimes it’s carrying the voice of an old relationship. By giving these parts space to be heard and understood, therapy helps loosen their grip. It is like rearranging the chairs inside: the harsh voices don’t disappear, but they no longer dominate the room.

Over time, clients discover that they are not just the ones being observed—they are also the observer. They can step back, see these parts clearly, and choose how much power to give them. This shift opens the door to cultivating a steadier, kinder presence inside.

Therapy offers a new model of what it means to be seen: attention that is steady, warm, and nonjudgmental. With that support, clients begin to cultivate their own inner presence—one that guides instead of criticizes, orients instead of overwhelms.

Griffith Observatory reminds us of the power of such steady visibility. It is a beacon, a light that reassures without intruding. In therapy, people learn to carry something similar inside themselves. They become their own beacon, perched on the hill within—steady, compassionate, and reminding them they are not alone.

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If you’re ready to quiet the harsh inner voices and discover a more compassionate presence within, therapy can help. Let’s begin with a 15-minute consultation.