Observer to Experiencer
My evolving perspective has me diving deeper into the human experience.
I asked my husband, Matt, about his perspective on our birth experience, expecting him to recall more details as an observer in the delivery room. When I tried to recall the momentous event, I realized something profound—
Most of my life is experienced in the third person, like watching myself from the outside.
I told Matt I couldn’t really remember the birth, but not because it was insignificant. Rather, it’s because I couldn’t access that familiar third-party perspective. I was fully immersed in the role of the mother, the physical being, in the raw reality of giving birth. For once, I was present in my body, with no room for detachment or an external viewpoint.
It’s strange how this shift from third to first person feels almost unnatural for me. In memories and future visions, I often experience life from an elevated vantage point, as if I’m observing myself from above—a bird’s eye view, a higher self looking in. This way of seeing things reminds me of the concept of a hologram, where an image seems complete but is actually a projection of something larger. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m merely a projection of my higher self in this physical form.
A few nights ago, I had a dream that seemed to align with this idea. I watched myself as a hologram, a light-based projection that mirrored my movements and actions. It was like I was watching my spirit create and animate my physical form. The dream was a revelation, deepening my understanding of how I relate to myself and this world.
This experience has led me to ponder the holographic universe theory. Imagine life as a grand projection, where we’re both the projector and the image being projected. From the first-person view, we're the physical beings moving through time, interacting with objects, feeling emotions. Yet, from the third-person perspective, it’s like we are watching a movie of our own lives, observing the story as it unfolds.
Maybe that’s why birth felt so different to me. In that moment, I wasn’t the observer but the experiencer, fully immersed in the story. My higher self wasn’t hovering above, taking notes; instead, I was me, engaged in the labor and creation. There was no mirror, no hologram, only presence in the now.
It’s almost like the third-person perspective is my soul’s way of staying connected to the bigger picture, the oneness I often feel called back to. But during birth, I was drawn into the immediate experience of being human—living in the body, feeling the pain, the effort, the raw intensity of life creating life. I couldn’t be both the observer and the experiencer at that moment. I had to choose, and I chose to be here, in this body, to fully embrace the birth of my daughter.
This dance between the third-person spirit view and the first-person human view continues to play out. Sometimes, I find myself drifting out of my body, observing, thinking, reflecting—especially when I look at the past or envision the future. Yet when the moment is too big to contain, such as giving birth or navigating significant turbulence in life, I am fully grounded in the experience.
And maybe that’s what life is really about—knowing when to step back and observe and when to dive in and experience. Both are part of the same grand narrative, the same journey of being human and spirit, all at once.