I remember staying at my grandmother's, an old mill house on the corner of a street in an old mill town, when it would be raining and sometimes I would have a headache and go lie down in the bedroom right next to the corner; it was a cool dark room and I could lie down and release the tension in my head and shoulders - having shut out all the light - with only the sound of the rain and the rush of occasional tires on pavement, stopping, turning
Monday, February 20, 2017
Sunday, February 19, 2017
In my experience we cannot look at ourselves: the attempt at self portrait leads to an abundance of editing - the amelioration of flaws and the enhancement of desired features. Only the off chance mirror brings home the skin's blotched, boiled, bewarted, lesioned, sallow, receipt of our days. And how do we see that? wariness -who's this; revulsion -what does he want; hope -what does he bring; or sympathy - what is his burden? The capacity lies in our judgment - whether we feel the need for defenses against the world or whether we have a curiosity about the world. Perhaps that curiosity develops in such a way that it could be expressed as love. And so the most demanding commandment - to love our enemies, to pray for them and do good - meets us in this objective gaze. When we assess the threat level before we realize it's our reflection, Perhaps we ourselves are the threat; certainly people who can't meet themselves in sympathy and curiosity might approach the world as a competition to win - a constant battle to wage; a balance sheet to fill out. We may say, "oh that's not us - that's that other person."