MIRROR, MIRROR...

In his book, The Zahir, Paulo Coelho repeatedly tells this story. Two fire fighters go into the forest to put out a fire. When the fire is put out, they walk to a nearby stream. They look at each other. One’s face is absolutely clean; the other’s is full of soot. Which one is most likely to wash his face? Apparently, the answer is, the one with a clean face for he will assume that his face is as dirty as that of his companion while his companion will think his face clean. And so it is in relationships, at least according to Mr. Coelho. I think about this story a lot. I don’t get it. The one with the dirty face should wash it. The one with a clean face should tell the one with the dirty face to wash his face. Ahh, but he with the dirty face may not believe his face is dirty especially seeing his companion’s. And he with the clean face will believe his face dirty and keep scrubbing. As I’m racking my brain, my friend calls me. He’s going through a really tough patch in his marriage [aren’t we all, at some point] and just needs to talk. We chat for a bit, then he says to me, “You make me feel so much better. Thanks.” We hang up. I find myself feeling weary, and my neck and shoulder begin to ache for no apparent reason. Then suddenly, I get it!!!! Oh my goodness, I really get it!!! I “looked into his face” while we were talking. I was so busy trying to interpret for him, what his wife is really going through that I inadvertently took the image he painted of his wife as my own. So I come off that call ugly, fat, unreasonable, irresponsible and he leaves beautiful, sensitive, caring, warm. Now I want someone to remind me that I am not those things, that I am who I am and not who she is, or even worse who he thinks she is. All of us look for mirrors in our lives. People who let us see ourselves exactly as we are, warts and all, and who say, “You are beautiful.” I think that’s what we enter marriage hoping the other will do. Someone who accepts us no matter what we do to ourselves, and to them. But that is an impossible standard. Perhaps instead we should be the mirror unto ourselves. See ourselves exactly as we are, warts and all and say, “I am beautiful.” I think I need a compact mirror. One with a convex, or is it concave mirror... ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS Last night, I had an epiphany, that I thought I absolutely must share. I can never love another until I love myself. I can never love myself until I accept myself. I can never accept myself until I forgive myself. I can never forgive myself until I own all my experiences. I can never own all my experiences until I face the facts [not the story or what I made things mean] of everything that happened. I can never face the facts until I reject all other interpretations. I can never reject all other interpretations until I reject others’ opinions. I can never reject others’ opinions until I reject their importance in my life. I can never reject their importance in my life until I accept my own intrinsic value. I cannot accept my own intrinsic value until I accept my own right to live. I can never accept my right to live until I accept that I am perfect, just as I am. God did not make a mistake when She created me and breathed life into me. Like the song says, “no imperfection... I need no correction, I’m flawless, absolutely flawless.” Yes, even my weaknesses are flawlessly weak. SAVED PEOPLE, LOOK AWAY NOW!!! I once read a book titled Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. One of the characters in it is described as having refused to be born with original sin. I thought to myself,[being a good Christian, and adequately seeped in self imposed judgement from having committed the cardinal sin of all – birth ie mine], how delusional. Then the other day I have the most irreverent thought. If Jesus died for all sin, past present and future. And I was born after he had dies and rose again, then how is it I was born with sin? At the very least, I was born without sin and started collecting some, as one might collect mud walking through a field, after I became conscious of myself. Hmmm... do you think I need to read the book of Romans once more? Or maybe I should explore Ms. Rand’s ideas. Could it be, I’m the delusional one? THOUGHT FOR THE DAY I can never be the slave to another man’s expectations of me, even if those expectations are so ingrained in me, I think them my own.