When you look in a mirror what do you see? Is it a functional task, performing a visual checklist, before you step out to face what the day ahead brings. Hair, check. Clothes, check. Overall appearance? Meh, acceptable, you’ll do, I’m late for the train, no time to think too hard about this. Then it’s off without another thought until you partake of the same perfunctory ritual again, 24 hours later.
Or is it a more drawn out process? You preen and pout, basking in what faces you. A selfie perhaps, for you like what you see. And why not for you’ve worked hard to cultivate this image of perfection. You smile as you know you’ll turn heads wherever you go today. Image is everything and you are enraptured by yours. You stare at the centre of your universe and it smirks back at you.
Or do you cringe and shy away from the face and body looking back at you? You don’t like what you see, it’s a visage which fills you with guilt, shame and despair. Oh, to be anywhere else, to be anyone else. You hate what you have become, what you are. The mind plays tricks but the mirror never lies. You are an embarrassment, a joke, and the whole world knows it. They only have to look.
Self can be an idol or an enemy. It flatters, it taunts, it throws you this way then that on a whim. We fixate, we obsess, shackled to the altar of me, me, me. It is a prison of the soul, the darkest, deepest of dungeons from which there is little hope of escape. It’s a life sentence with no chance of parole. You are stuck with one another. We are what we eat, drink, intake or inject into our bodies. We are consumed by what we consume.
Yet what’s that lying at your feet? So small and seemingly insignificant. You stoop down to pick it up. A sharp edged stone which nestles neatly in the palm of your hand. A stone is a stone. It holds no secrets or hidden depths. You watch as you form a fist around it. An idea takes root in your mind. You blush at even daring to think such a radical thought. Seven years bad luck, isn’t that what they say?
Before you realise what you’re doing, you throw your arm back and hurl it at the mirror, the stone striking its surface and sending a thousand shards shattering in all directions. You stand at the centre of the carnage, unscathed, without a scratch or cut. You look beyond the damaged mirror and the scales finally fall away to reveal the truth which was there all belong. The truth behind the mirror.
Shards. They cut the self away without mercy or regrets. Multiple edges carving out a new message, one of hope and love. The self is dead, long live the self. Selflessness, that is. For you look into the eyes of the family and friends behind the facade. You look into their eyes and see your true self, the person you were created to be before the world perverted and distorted you beyond recognition. You see the original prototype, box fresh and flawless.
It is then you can breathe out, exhale and experience freedom in its purest form. You are free at last from the yoke which has hung around your neck for so long. Free to live a life uninhibited by the face in the mirror. All you have to do is pick up that stone at your feet and start living the rest of your life. Death can be a beginning, a purification, a cleansing ritual like no other. Kill the self.
How do you see when you look in the mirror?
Black Thoughts 
Some days it’s an old man in need of a shave. Most of the time it’s a bullet proof young stud romping and roaring to go at the age of 15 1/2 and still wet behind the ears. But they’re both me. You are only as old as you think you are. Oh. He’s a handsome fella. Hehe.
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Ha. I’m sure he is 🙂
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Wow! Thought provoking. I need to read it again. 😊 We are so much more than that reflection in the mirror.
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Thank you 😊
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Very interesting question and even better how you presented it. Well done.
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Very interesting. I was taught it was a sin to preen in front of the mirror, or to want to look pretty. My mum pasted a bible verse on my mirror for me to see in the morning, just because I wanted bangs. My parents never told me I was pretty, yet my dad noticed birth defects with both of my kids. So I have avoided paying attention, yet not. I also know that advertisers and TV shows ya what’s acceptable. Grrrrrrrr but I am me. Rarely wear any makeup. Do not color my hair, but dress neatly and clean (unless working around house).
Bet you didn’t expect an essay! 🤪
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Wonderful, poignant writing, full of truth and light. Thank you!
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Thank you 😊
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Pandora’s box on what i see-I most loved getting caught up in what I felt in your descriptions….lovely 🙂
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Thank you 😊
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I see a woman who has finally found a safe enough place in her soul to move forward with her life. It’s a bit to get used to.
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That’s great to hear 🙂
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Seeing yourself through God’s eyes is the only way to see.
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Very true. Thank you 😊
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I have been all three persons described. Today I am learning how to live without the mirror. Such a beautiful read, i felt chills through my chest. =>
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Thank you. I’m glad you are in a better place now.
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Thank you… so am I but I am grateful for the journey.
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Reblogged this on stumblingfaith and commented:
This is a beautiful blog written by my friend Stephen. It really makes you think about what is real and not real and who you really are.
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Thank you 😊
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Don’t know why, but Self is a destructive voice (often). Mostly for younger ppl too.
Personally- I have no time much…only in the evening 😂😂, for the mirror I mean.
+ Meditation 🧘♀️ helps to keep it healthy
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awesome words, steven! I like what I see, most of the time at least! xo
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Thank you Carol Anne 🙂
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