Signs + Symbols, By Debbie Rosas.

We are all symbols. Every one of us. When someone looks at us, whether it’s a stranger passing by, a friend across the table, or our own reflection in the mirror we are seen not just as bodies, but as signs. As meaning-makers. As stories in motion. I think about this often. What does it mean to be seen? Not just noticed. Not just looked at. But felt. Witnessed. Known.

Most of us long to be seen. We dress a certain way. Speak with intention. Shape our presence to be both expressive and understood. We glance in mirrors not only to check how we look, but to see if something in our eyes, our face, our posture is reflecting who we really are. I often wonder: is what I’m showing the world aligned with what I’m holding in my heart?

That question has lived in me for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, I did something I didn’t fully understand at the time. I remember cutting myself—just enough to break the skin—and staring at what was beneath the surface. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. I was trying to see. I wanted to know what was in there. I think I was searching for something.

Something deeper, something real. But when I saw it—when I saw under the skin—I got scared. Not just scared of the blood or the pain. I was scared of what it meant to be exposed. I was afraid that the silent things I held, the feelings, the fears, the thoughts no one knew I had might be visible. That if someone looked too closely, they’d see everything.

Not just the surface, but the shadow. The parts I didn’t know how to explain. The things I didn’t yet have the language for. That moment marked something in me. A part of me learned to protect the inside by carefully shaping the outside. To become watchful. Presentable. Palatable. To make sure that what was seen would never reveal too much.

And yet—underneath all that control was a longing. Not just to be seen, but to be known in full. I remember another moment years later, in my twenties, sitting in a crowded room during a performance. I wasn’t the one dancing this time—I was in the audience. But I felt more exposed sitting still than I ever did moving. The man next to me kept glancing at me.

At that moment I realized with a strange intensity: He doesn’t just see me—he’s reading me. My posture. My stillness. My face. It felt like he saw through to something I wasn’t sure I was ready to share. I panicked a little—and then I softened. Because maybe, for the first time, I realized it was okay to be seen. As I age, I find that softening happens more often.

I want to be seen less for what I do, and more for what I am. For the way I love. For the energy I bring into a space. For the ways I’ve softened, deepened, returned. I want to be seen symbolically—not just as a woman, or a teacher, or a body—but as a soul in motion. As a living transmission of what I’ve lived and learned. Being seen is sacred.

But it is also vulnerable. It requires a relationship between the inner and outer self—one built not on performance, but on presence. The more we align the two, the more powerful we become—not because we are flawless, but because we are whole. I now see that the outer self is not something to hide behind. It’s a symbol, a mirror, a message.

And when it’s rooted in truth—when it reflects the real energy, emotion, and essence we carry—it becomes a radiant expression of the soul. The outside becomes more powerful, more real, when it is in alignment with what’s inside. What we wear, how we move, the symbols we carry—these are sacred choices. They aren’t superficial. They’re communicative.

They reveal and reflect what’s living within. When I say we are all symbols, I don’t mean that we are fixed images. I mean we are living metaphors. We carry layers of meaning. We are always changing, shifting, becoming. Our gestures, our adornments, even our scars—each one speaks in a language older than words. I remember choosing my first white outfit for Nia class.

I didn’t just want to look radiant—I wanted to feel light, open, receptive. I wanted to embody the meaning of white: renewal, clarity, freedom. That moment wasn’t about fashion. It was about intention. I became the symbol I needed. Symbols have always fascinated me. Not just as design or art, but as gateways. They are how the subconscious mind speaks.

They are how the body speaks to the soul. Symbols serve as catalysts for reclaiming wisdom that is often sensed and felt but difficult to articulate. They help bridge the realms of intuition and intellect, logic and mystery, body and mind, the personal and the collective. They help us connect the seen with the unseen—our physical form with our energetic essence.

We may not always have the words to explain our inner world, but symbols do that for us. They enhance learning. They deepen insight. They awaken personal wisdom. They align physical, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of transformation. This is the sacred language of archetype and image, the felt resonance of color, shape, rhythm, and space.

Symbols don’t demand explanation—they invite experience. That’s why symbols are so powerful for healing. That’s why they’re so essential to embodiment, and that’s why being seen as a whole, symbolic being is not a luxury. It’s a need. It is a form of belonging. We integrate symbolic imagery into movement, into meditation, into daily life.

It is then that we activate the full spectrum of our intelligence—the rational, emotional, and somatic. We call forth both the feminine and masculine spirit energies within us. We allow for expression and stillness, radiance and depth. We become more than visible—we become felt. And in that sacred space, something awakens. The self that sees and the self that is seen.

We are all symbols, not just of who we are, but of who we are becoming.  So take a moment today to stand in front of the mirror. Not to fix or judge—but to sense and feel. To see yourself as a symbol. A sign. A prayer in motion. Because being seen—truly seen—begins with how you see yourself, and from that place, all things become possible.

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