September 23rd

What Do I See in Front of a Mirror?

Go look in a mirror. Describe what you see. Give us the details

I stand in front of the mirror. What do I see?

I see the person who cried today morning after placing his hands on cold red roses because he couldn’t bear to carry the umbrella of beauty that opened up in that simple act of connecting with nature.

The person cried again when he saw a homeless man sleeping outside a Walgreens store, breathing heavily on the cold concrete.

The person who craves the solitude and spaciousness of the desert, who cherishes the act of gazing at the Milky Way on a cold December night and feeling so connected with the universe that time, space, and his being all melt into one speck of dust.

The person who’s been through physical challenges — being kidnapped at gunpoint in a cab in Ecuador, almost drowning in the Ganga river, almost getting electrocuted while parachuting past an electric pole, traveling in a train that got derailed and flipped sideways — and emotional ones: the trauma of missing his beloved grandmother with whom he ought to have spent more time as an adult, but didn’t; all the feelings that drift along after a sixteen-year relationship ends in an unfair and sad manner; the sadness of bearing witness to his father’s Alzheimer’s, a father who barely recognizes his son.

I see a person who cradles fond memories of his childhood; who derives immense pleasure from indulging in Indian and Mexican cuisines; who loves to look at clouds drifting in the sky; who realized, after living several years trying not to be vulnerable because of the fear of getting hurt, that it’s unfair to the soul to not let it blossom, and decided that going forward, he will unconditionally be his authentic self, regardless of how hurtful the other person is; who talks to bluebirds, sumac trees and grass growing out of concrete; who wants to spend more time helping others.

I see someone who wants to make movies, do photography, write his heart out, love with his entire heart, live amidst wonder and gratitude, and make friends with uncertainty.

I witness a person who realizes the beauty in acknowledging that he has room to grow and become a better human being and that it’s more healing to live in that spacious room than in a cramped cave of rigidity and stubbornness.

I see virtues and flaws, dreams and squashed hopes, fears, and strengths, smiles, and tears, self-compassion, and impatience with myself, all bundled up in the ‘me’ that’s in front of the mirror. It’s a bouquet of flowers reflecting in the mirror, flowers that are grateful to be blossoming on this earth.

What’s special about a mirror?

I don’t know why all of this comes up when I look in a mirror. How is this different from sitting on the couch, closing my eyes, and doing some introspection?

I think that the act of looking at my physical self — without any distractions, expectations, or judgments — unveils these experiences and aspects of me in a manner that’s inclusive of all three components: mind, body, and soul. It’s not that I had never contemplated these things before, but there’s something about paying attention to my physical body — my hair, lips, eyes, shoulders, chest, legs, feet — with a sense of curiosity that opens the door to my inner self and lets me into the garden that my life is.

Of course, meditating and self-reflection are helpful in their own unique ways, but there’s something intangible about connecting with myself in an embodied manner, about looking at my body and asking myself: who was I? who am I? where am I?

Speaking of ‘where’, this act of reflection also makes me wonder where all these experiences and aspects of me reside. Are they in my skin? If I touch my skin, would I be able to locate them? Are they on my lips? My mind? Where is my mind?

Do memories live solely in our minds, or are they embodied deep in our bodies? I look at my palms, touch their lines, and am reminded of how I used to hold my mother’s hands as a kid when we went for a walk. Isn’t that memory cuddled deep in my palms right now?

I bring my palms up as I stand in front of the mirror, and that memory bubbles up, along with tears of reminiscence…so maybe, memories do live in both our bodies and minds, and we need to bring ourselves in front of a mirror — an actual one or a contemplative one — and look at ourselves, and use that moment of reflection to delve deeper into our past and the present self that we are.

And why does it matter where our experiences, dreams, and personalities live? I need their address because I want to connect with them and build a two-way relationship. I want all of us — the past, the present, and the hopes of the future — to hold hands and live a unified embodied life so that we’re all going in the same direction as we walk along the journey of life.

Thank you, mirror

I see myself at this moment and feel that it’s a miracle to witness forty-four years of time on earth, manifesting as myself, my mind, body, and soul.

Yes, I can see my soul when I look in the mirror. No, it’s not floating behind me in an aura; it’s my essence, and it manifests as my presence. It’s my eyes, lips, ears, beard, forehead, hair, shoulders, cheeks, hands, and toes. It’s there in every part of my body, and my body is there in every part of it. It is me, and I am it.

I’m grateful for the mirror — the physical one and the metaphorical one — that reflects its presence back to me and gives me an opportunity to keep discovering more about myself and refresh my mind, body, and soul.

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