Mirrors everywhere
Mirror, Mirror
"Who are you?" a wise woman once asked me.
“I don’t know.”
I was baffled and saddened. I didn’t know where to begin, where to look. Sadly, I was at a loss as to what questions I would ask myself. I did not know how to discover who I was. How long have I lived with myself? I felt certain I knew who everyone else was. I was an expert on solutions for others.
She asked me to look in the mirror and ask some questions.
Previously, if you’d given me a mirror, I’d turn it towards you to see my reflection. It can be sickening what you’ll tolerate if you don’t have to see yourself in the mirror.
I began seeing mirrors everywhere I looked. Everywhere, except inwards. Thus began my safari. My journey. It was time to ink my pens and start writing.
This lady laughed and cried with me. She shared my Anger and I found Solace. She Pushed so I could Overcome. She Challenged and I Conquered. She Encouraged so I could Achieve.
She saw a faint spark in me, an ember maybe, and carried with her just the right set of kindling with just the right amount of fuel. She took care to stoke the ember without dimming it, fanning it to become the contented campfire I sit by every night. I dance with the orange shadows, silently, under black moons to the soft pops of the crackles.
I am injured. I am no more or less injured than my neighbor, but I have scars. Some are visible. Some are not allowed to be seen. Mother Nature’s tailors, scars mend brokenness. Fabrics get torn when worn, and the seamstress does her best, but patches and cross stitches will never match the original. Scars of any kind will never match the original. They do become less over time, and learn to blend in.
My scars are fading.
I am recovering. I know my injuries. No longer are they a river chute, launching me towards disaster. I am no longer a victim of their memories. In their stead, I’ve placed mid-river islands that provide rest and sanctuary. I choose daily to pay them respect, make a course correction, and try that bearing for a season.
I am healing. My injuries are no longer cumbersome. They exist, dormant, as we've come to truce. Aware of the other's strength, no longer does a battle prove any providence. They are at peace. Balanced. In unison.
They rest.
My soul is open. My mind expanded. Our imaginary systems are designed to lead us to be capable of extraordinary lives. Once we are unencumbered by social restraints, our peripheral vision comes into focus. We begin to see the world through different lenses, adjusting aperture for just the right exposure.
I have had losses, and a great loss recently. I cowardly wanted to be a martyr. I wanted to be a casualty, lost valiantly on the battle fields of the human heart. I kept waking up, so onward I marched. I continued to forge ahead, repurposing road blocks as stepping stones. Though that season seemed all consuming while in it, it was merely for a short while. All losses are heavy, but only for a season.
I’ve realized the greatest loss of all was myself.
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