I had been planning to do an experiment in which I would not look at my mirror image for an entire month. For the previous two months I had been working out the details in my mind about how I could achieve this seemingly impossible task. On January 1st, 2020 I received an email from the Mindful Magazine with instructions on a mirror gazing meditation. It entailed gazing into my own eyes for 10 minutes. That seemed much easier. I was intrigued by the idea. It reminded of a discovery nearly 30 years ago when I had painted a life size, realistic portrait of my deceased father. While I was waiting for Deanna’s attention to show her the completed painting, I just happen to turn to my right and found myself facing the floor to ceiling mirrors in the room. I was struck by the mirrored image of my Dad’s face! It didn’t look anything like the painted image. I remember the questions that began to surface. “Is this is how he saw himself! My Dad was a handsome man, and his reflection was not! Is this how we all see ourselves in the mirror? The mirror gazing meditation idea resonated throughout my being. I decided instantly that i would instead proceed with it and put the other idea on the back burner.
I did the ten minute mirror gazing meditation the next day. Here are my results:
The time went by faster than I thought it would. I had to keep my eyes from wandering around my face and head. The goal for me was to focus on my irises and just allow whatever thoughts surfaced. For the rest of that day, I felt more connected with everyone I came into contact with. It is my desire to experience that feeling everyday and I have begun to integrate it into my daily meditation practice.
At the age of thirty-eight, I became aware that I had been verbally and energetically silenced my entire childhood. As a child, when I spoke my Truth (expressed myself), if it was opposite of most adults’ beliefs or conditioning, I would be punished, ignored and/or dismissed.
It was August 17, 1992, just three months after my Dad’s transition into non-physical. (AKA - death) and the day before my Mom’s birthday. The portrait I had painted of my Dad was framed and ready to present to my Mom at a luncheon I was hosting for her and her two best friends the following day. The day of her birthday.
Presenting myself well in public was a habit ingrained in me from childhood, from the moment I began dressing myself. My Dad would lecture my four siblings and me about the importance of personal appearance.