Mirror Break

On Monday mornings I have a regularly scheduled phone appointment with my friend Patricia and this week the subject of mirrors emerged as our main theme. I was telling her that one of the side effects of my chemotherapy was that I looked weird, especially my eyes. Not all the time, but during the week I receive chemo.

I noticed it after the first round of chemo and particularly so this time. I explained how disconcerting it is to look at my face in the mirror and see eyes I have looked at for six decades that all of a sudden don’t look like my eyes. Whose eyes are these I wonder? Is this me? I scrutinize my face to see if there is an explanation but I can’t find one.

I made a point to look in mirrors when my head was shaved. I didn’t want to be startled by myself or be afraid if I caught a glimpse in the mirror. So I looked to the sides, the back, the top and finally the front. Now, I can see myself again, even without hair. It is a relief, and sometimes, depending on the light or my eyesight, I think that it’s really not that bad.

Patricia told me about one of her friends who made a conscious choice to use a mirror less. She didn’t break the mirrors or cover them up but she gave them less authority in her life. She might catch a glimpse of herself when she walked by a mirror or see a slightly blurred image as she washed her face but she no longer lingered at the mirror. As time went on she saw less and less of herself in the mirror but more importantly she began seeing more and more of who she really was. It changed her life in a significant way.

I also recalled a story about an old friend of mine who had a transformative holiday when she had spent one entire summer on a boat. It was not the boat that was significant but the fact that the boat had no mirrors. For two full mirror free months she was intact, whole, and good enough.

I am not suggesting that we break our mirrors, but I too am learning that I am not just what I see reflected back at me. Maybe on my next round I will take a mirror break. Maybe we all could use a break from time to time.

I love this Japanese poem and maybe he is right, it is time to break that mirror after all.

Body and Soul

In the morning
After taking cold shower
-----what a mistake-----
I look at the mirror.

There, a funny guy,
Grey hair, white beard, wrinkled skin,
-----what a pity-----
Poor, dirty, old man!
He is not me, absolutely not.

Land and life
Fishing in the ocean
Sleeping in the desert with stars
Building a shelter in mountains
Farming the ancient way
Singing with coyotes
Singing against nuclear way-
I’ll never be tired of life.
Now I’m seventeen years old,
Very charming young man.

I sit down in lotus position,
Meditating, meditating for nothing.
Suddenly a voice comes to me:
To stay young,
To save the world,
Break the mirror.”

Nanao Sakaki from “Break the Mirror” translated by Gary Snyder

Comments

[Patricia Ryan Madson]

Wise words, these. Break the mirror. What this means to me is to give up using any external source to provide validation for oneself. Josephine used to say, "mirrors lie." Makes sense to me. Thank you for your wonderful perspective and for this enlightening blog.

[Linda]

Several years ago I broke both of my wrists when I skated into a dry patch at an outdoor skating rink. I'll skip the many funny stories I could tell about my double-casted period in which I was totally dependent and just about totally useless. But the mirror posting made me think about the day that the casts were finally removed. I almost fainted on the spot. I looked down at my arms, expecting to see my arms. But my wrists were nowhere to be seen and instead were two other wrists that I did not recognize and did not like one bit. It was so disorienting and disturbing to see these impostor arms of mine that I came very close to fainting.

It took some time to adjust. I still miss my "real" wrists, although I certainly don't give them a lot of thought these days.

Keeping up with the aging process is like this in a way. I miss the "real" me. Where have I gone? I received quite a bit of attention for my looks years ago. With vanity carving a deep groove in my family, my "looks" were an important part of my identity. How disturbing and disorienting it is to now witness the body's gradual (not gradual enough) and steady changes. Unlike my wrists, I must keep adjusting to new changes all the time. The mirror would allow me to see new changes every day -- premature menopause is to blame, I think to myself. But I cannot afford to waste much time noticing and considering this situation. The situation itself is reminding me that I cannot afford to waste much time . . .

As it is, I'm sure, with the changes you speak of, Trudy. Though they have come more suddenly and intensely following your treatment, you are describing an experience that seems very familiar. May we all learn to look beyond our wrists and our skin and hair, and see the true nature of what lies beyond them, or beneath them or within them. Thanks for posting the mirror poem -- I love it!

[patricia ludwick]

dear trudy,
i so much look forward to your daily message - don't always make it in a day chockful of beings and doings but know that at the end of the day, with no more e-mail messages, no more phone messages, no more phone calls, all the cats fed, I can sit down with you and think of things much deeper. I've always loved that poem, and versions of it - such a simple solution to problems of ego! Another one I learned tonight from a member of my meditation group:

Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves,
for they will always have a source of amusement.

Let's save the world by giving up old ideas of our selves: break the mirror - leave our masks behind.

[Trudy]

Thanks to all for taking the time to comment on this post. (and any post)I am loving the conversation and appreciating the wisdom that each person brings. I picture the new wrists that you get to use now Linda and you have given us such a clear example from your life. Many thanks to each of you. I am benefiting from each person's contribuitions on and off this blog. As always, T