Mirror…Mirror…You’ve Got 30 Seconds … It’s something we do every day. We catch glimpses of them when we ride the escalator or walk by a store window. We catch glances in our rear view mirrors. We can even see them on our computer screens…our reflections. Our reflections stare back at us throughout the day reminding us that we’re here. For as many times as we glance or peek at ourselves, I find myself asking, how often do we take the time to really look at the person staring back at us? How often do we find ourselves stopping to reflect, not dissect, on our physical uniqueness? And even deeper, how often do we stop to look into our own eyes, into the windows of our soul? Not nearly enough. I’ve often wondered “is this how people see me? Is this what people see? Who people see?” And while I ponder the what’s and how’s I stop and realise those questions I just asked, are directed towards someone else’s opinion of me, but what about ME? What about what I think of ME?
A few months ago I was invited to participate in a wonderful, 6-week program entitled “My Magnificent Self” offered through Simply Blossoming. The program consisted of six topics focusing on the Self, over the course of six weeks, and took us through a journey of self discovery, self-actualization and self awareness. For me, the workshops forced me to stop. They forced me to look at myself, I mean really look at ME. The way I smile. The way my eyebrows turn up when I’m cranky or disappointed, and while taking the time out to really notice the unique qualities that help construct my physical being, more importantly, they forced me to look deeper, to go beneath the surface and acknowledge myself in a way I’ve never really done before.
I remember getting home after the first workshop. I was sitting on my bed in my room when my son came in because he had heard me and wanted to say goodnight. As he leaned in to hug me, he stopped and pulled himself back and asked, “Are you okay?” Surprised by the randomness of his question, I replied, “ya, why?” “You’re face looks different?” he said. “What do you mean my face looks different?” I answered. “Your face…it looks relaxed, calm.” “Oh,” I said, “cool” and off to bed he went. My face looks calm? I played that innocent comment over and over again in my head. I went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror and just looked at myself. He’s right, I thought, my face does look calm. That night I crawled into bed and to wrote my first journal entry for this workshop.