Whenever I go to Shaivite temples, I always think of the “Hindu” concept of darshan (viewing/vision). The idea is that when you go to temple to worship, among the sensations of incense burning, flowers, incantations, contrasts of light with deep darkness in corners, bell-ringing, anvil pounding, gold and brass shining, the “high point” of a temple visit is seeing the main murti (idol figure/representation of god which is worshipped). The murti is not always on view; oftentimes it is covered by a curtain or completely closed off under metal blinds, or even encased in what seems to be a golden safe just like the royal jewels. Contact with a Brahmin priest in a temple is your opportunity to get closer to the murti, view it, and, as the idea goes, this is when the murti (or really god, working through the medium of the statue) sees you. 
Traditionally, when going to temple, viewing of the murti should only be for a few minutes and from far away (at least some distance/separation). At times the figure may leave the temple and be used in processions, but this is not the norm. It is believed that the power of the effigy dissipates with time. Part of the priests’ role using Vedic chants is to bring back some of the power/aura which has been dispersed through repeated viewings by so many people. This is also why the effigy is kept closed up at night and many times during the day in the dark, dark, sanctum sanctorum in the center deep in the temple.
I am attracted to the idea of the idol figure’s power becoming more diffused with time upon viewing, like you’re really wearing out the divinity/holiness in the effigy with your eyes, unless rituals are performed to retain this aura. (I also love the way the murtis are fanned by Brahmin priests to cool them off after so many flames in ghee lamps are waved before them over and over, but this is irrelevant when considering darshan.)
The idea of the god viewing you as you view it (through an artistic or at least manmade representation, also generally made in man’s image) is the most interesting point here. In the same way that a woman’s gaze might meet yours in a painting, establishing contact, intimacy and even affinity or mutual understanding between you and the painting’s subject, the darshan of when the god sees the temple-visitor is really a main reason for which Hindus visit important temples (which have murti with a strong aura) instead of simply worshipping at home, with their various home altars, shrines and pooja rooms. Hindus don’t go to temple only to get a glimpse of God, they go to temple because they want God to see them. Really, it is a mutual viewing, making eye contact and establishing connection/union under the steady gaze of the Godhead.
The idea of darshan (view, vision, perspective, teachings) also includes different ways of seeing and understanding the world within Indian philosophy, of which there are many schools, as well as the darshan (wisdom/advice) that a swami or religious leader could offer to you upon seeing you. He offers his perspective/view on you when you go to see/view him.
The whole idea of viewing and understanding things is taken up a notch when one considers that in many darshans of Indian philosophy, there is no duality. God or a divine spirit is everywhere, in everyone, in you, in every bit of matter. There is no objectivity, no subject versus object, no “you versus them” – it’s all one. That’s all fine, but it becomes a subtler idea when you have a reciprocal gaze, as when viewing deities in temples. You have the privilege of looking at them and they are looking at you, and following from the tat tvam asi concept (“you are that”), it’s all one anyway (not that you’re looking at yourself but rather that there is no division between the observer and the observed). In the same way that some mutual understanding and intimacy is established between you and the figure in a Degas portrait, the understanding of each other’s presence and the intimacy which a reciprocal gaze between god and you implies make use of the physical sense of sight to more readily establish your connection and unity with God. Humans understand the world, universe and everything through the senses, later processed by the mind, so we will better understand our link to god and participation in non-duality through visual stimulus (sight is a mode of transmitting information or “truth” which we humans are particularly disposed to understanding). 
For me the puzzling part is when you go to a Shiva temple, as I mentioned at the beginning. Shiva is not traditionally represented with a doll or effigy taking on human form in temple. Normally you can find a shivalingam (or many!), representing the union of feminine and masculine elements, among other things (as does yin/yang). This is not an anthropomorphic form, although the symbolic representation of female and male reproductive organs could be loosely considered to be some human representation. Nine times out of ten, Shiva temples are filled with shivalingams. Occasionally they’ll have a head or a gold mask, or may have his whole body as a murti, but this is the exception, not the rule. Very occasionally, a lingam stone (or other stones of worship representing god) are given two painted eyes (nothing could be stranger, if the shivalingam is the combined symbol of genitalia, than to have two eyes!), giving the shivalingam the ability to see you! Shivalingam with eyes are few and far between, leaving the temple-goer with a different experience than when he goes to Vishnu or Ganesh temples, for example. Generally, the aura of magic, darkness and sometimes creepy bareness and silence (instead of bright gold/Vishnu) pervade in Shiva temples, and the power and energy of the lingam seem to float in the air all over the temple. The Shiva temple-goer’s experience is mystical, heavy, dank, and dark (he is the destroyer, after all) but the air is pregnant with energy, and sharply contrasts the experience of a Lakshmi/Vishnu temple, replete with shiny gold, flowers in exuberant abundance, images of prosperity and good fortune everywhere you look.
So my doubt is (the part where I don’t see clearly, or, I’m in the dark): Does “Shiva” or the Godhead really view you as you view it/him through the lingam? If it has a few brushstrokes of paint (as eyes), then it does, as some village deities have eyes painted on stone, although they may lack an anthropomorphic form. And if the lingam doesn’t have eyes? Does the same rule apply? Is the lingam also the vehicle through which god sees you, like other murtis? Ironically, Shiva is the god with above average number of eyes to start with. His third eye (tryambakam) wouldn’t have been used to view you, though; its purpose was to burn away desire into ashes (Shiva eyes in stones such as agate are a common iconographic image found across India). Regardless, the lingam form is an abstraction and anyway, should the external form really matter when it’s just a medium for the content and energy which is underlying. So the part that still leaves me wondering almost uncomfortably (is he watching? is he not? These aren’t the right questions, but it’s hard to put into words) is of little import. It would be impossible to understand the perspective or vision which the god’s side has of it (or of us) and besides, in a system of non-duality, it is pointless to consider any perspective or viewpoint of an “other”, as there is no “other” or “otherness”.
What’s your view on it?
Traditionally, when going to temple, viewing of the murti should only be for a few minutes and from far away (at least some distance/separation). At times the figure may leave the temple and be used in processions, but this is not the norm. It is believed that the power of the effigy dissipates with time. Part of the priests’ role using Vedic chants is to bring back some of the power/aura which has been dispersed through repeated viewings by so many people. This is also why the effigy is kept closed up at night and many times during the day in the dark, dark, sanctum sanctorum in the center deep in the temple.I am attracted to the idea of the idol figure’s power becoming more diffused with time upon viewing, like you’re really wearing out the divinity/holiness in the effigy with your eyes, unless rituals are performed to retain this aura. (I also love the way the murtis are fanned by Brahmin priests to cool them off after so many flames in ghee lamps are waved before them over and over, but this is irrelevant when considering darshan.)
The idea of the god viewing you as you view it (through an artistic or at least manmade representation, also generally made in man’s image) is the most interesting point here. In the same way that a woman’s gaze might meet yours in a painting, establishing contact, intimacy and even affinity or mutual understanding between you and the painting’s subject, the darshan of when the god sees the temple-visitor is really a main reason for which Hindus visit important temples (which have murti with a strong aura) instead of simply worshipping at home, with their various home altars, shrines and pooja rooms. Hindus don’t go to temple only to get a glimpse of God, they go to temple because they want God to see them. Really, it is a mutual viewing, making eye contact and establishing connection/union under the steady gaze of the Godhead.
The idea of darshan (view, vision, perspective, teachings) also includes different ways of seeing and understanding the world within Indian philosophy, of which there are many schools, as well as the darshan (wisdom/advice) that a swami or religious leader could offer to you upon seeing you. He offers his perspective/view on you when you go to see/view him.
The whole idea of viewing and understanding things is taken up a notch when one considers that in many darshans of Indian philosophy, there is no duality. God or a divine spirit is everywhere, in everyone, in you, in every bit of matter. There is no objectivity, no subject versus object, no “you versus them” – it’s all one. That’s all fine, but it becomes a subtler idea when you have a reciprocal gaze, as when viewing deities in temples. You have the privilege of looking at them and they are looking at you, and following from the tat tvam asi concept (“you are that”), it’s all one anyway (not that you’re looking at yourself but rather that there is no division between the observer and the observed). In the same way that some mutual understanding and intimacy is established between you and the figure in a Degas portrait, the understanding of each other’s presence and the intimacy which a reciprocal gaze between god and you implies make use of the physical sense of sight to more readily establish your connection and unity with God. Humans understand the world, universe and everything through the senses, later processed by the mind, so we will better understand our link to god and participation in non-duality through visual stimulus (sight is a mode of transmitting information or “truth” which we humans are particularly disposed to understanding). 
For me the puzzling part is when you go to a Shiva temple, as I mentioned at the beginning. Shiva is not traditionally represented with a doll or effigy taking on human form in temple. Normally you can find a shivalingam (or many!), representing the union of feminine and masculine elements, among other things (as does yin/yang). This is not an anthropomorphic form, although the symbolic representation of female and male reproductive organs could be loosely considered to be some human representation. Nine times out of ten, Shiva temples are filled with shivalingams. Occasionally they’ll have a head or a gold mask, or may have his whole body as a murti, but this is the exception, not the rule. Very occasionally, a lingam stone (or other stones of worship representing god) are given two painted eyes (nothing could be stranger, if the shivalingam is the combined symbol of genitalia, than to have two eyes!), giving the shivalingam the ability to see you! Shivalingam with eyes are few and far between, leaving the temple-goer with a different experience than when he goes to Vishnu or Ganesh temples, for example. Generally, the aura of magic, darkness and sometimes creepy bareness and silence (instead of bright gold/Vishnu) pervade in Shiva temples, and the power and energy of the lingam seem to float in the air all over the temple. The Shiva temple-goer’s experience is mystical, heavy, dank, and dark (he is the destroyer, after all) but the air is pregnant with energy, and sharply contrasts the experience of a Lakshmi/Vishnu temple, replete with shiny gold, flowers in exuberant abundance, images of prosperity and good fortune everywhere you look.
So my doubt is (the part where I don’t see clearly, or, I’m in the dark): Does “Shiva” or the Godhead really view you as you view it/him through the lingam? If it has a few brushstrokes of paint (as eyes), then it does, as some village deities have eyes painted on stone, although they may lack an anthropomorphic form. And if the lingam doesn’t have eyes? Does the same rule apply? Is the lingam also the vehicle through which god sees you, like other murtis? Ironically, Shiva is the god with above average number of eyes to start with. His third eye (tryambakam) wouldn’t have been used to view you, though; its purpose was to burn away desire into ashes (Shiva eyes in stones such as agate are a common iconographic image found across India). Regardless, the lingam form is an abstraction and anyway, should the external form really matter when it’s just a medium for the content and energy which is underlying. So the part that still leaves me wondering almost uncomfortably (is he watching? is he not? These aren’t the right questions, but it’s hard to put into words) is of little import. It would be impossible to understand the perspective or vision which the god’s side has of it (or of us) and besides, in a system of non-duality, it is pointless to consider any perspective or viewpoint of an “other”, as there is no “other” or “otherness”.What’s your view on it?
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