Perhaps the mirror would be other people’s eyes.  I don’t see me very well.  But they do … at least some of them.

I’ve been in physical pain the last few days.  My vision of Bruce is especially untrustworthy right now.  It’s clouded, full of blacks and browns.  I need to walk out into the street and talk to someone who truly knows me.  To look into their eyes and glimpse what they see.

I hope they see kindness, but that image of myself is escaping me right now.  Mostly, I just want to pull the covers up to my chin.

And that’s okay.

Even in healthy moments, are we human beings unreliable in our seeing of self?  Give me the mirror please, and let me linger in my wrinkles, blemishes, my occasional smallnesses, and most especially … my love.

Out in the world, there is a lot of blindness, such as shown in Peter Coyote’s words.  (That’s his face at the top, by the way)

We all know what anger is.  We all know what hatred is.  We’ve all known people who have hated haters and failed to perceive any irony in that posture.  I’ve attended “peace meetings” where people screamed at one another for over an hour.  The mind tricks us all the time.

Sometimes I’m tricked.  Sometimes my mirror is crystal clear.  I’m both.

***

On we go in our rambling and rumbling