Mirrors
Reflecting on Reflecting
I’ve been doing a great deal of reflecting lately, and, in particular, reflecting about reflecting. Thus, for this issue of Mystery’s Voice, I ponder mirrors as a metaphor for reflecting on our past and for seeing ourselves more clearly. May you “see” something here that brings into view what you need.
Note about the image: This was taken at Mystery Acres a few years ago during the early spring. It doesn’t look like this at the moment but it soon will again!
My Mysterious Mind
I enjoy reflecting, and reflecting about reflecting, a meta-reflection. Reflection includes looking behind yourself, much like using a rear-view mirror. It also means looking at yourself, similar to gazing into a mirror, pondering deeply what can be seen. Also, reflection refers to light hitting a shiny surface and bouncing outwards. The moon, though not able to produce its own light, can, if illuminated by the sun, provide a great deal of light.
My name, Cynthia, which is derived from the word Cynthus, is believed to have originated from the name of a bare granite rock over 400 feet high, located on the island of Delos in Greece. Mount Cynthus isn’t particularly reflective, but I like to think it would be if it were polished. Perhaps each of us, if polished, can be beautifully reflective. Or maybe reflection itself can provide some of the polishing?
Like mirrors, reflection is particularly useful for seeing what is behind us. Rear-view mirrors can bring into view the road we have just traveled. The road ahead of me at this point in my professional journey prompts me to look backwards over the past few years. You see, I am about to leave my current faculty position, one I’ve held for twenty-four years, and begin a faculty position for a different university. As I look at the road immediately ahead, I am compelled to gaze into the rear-view mirror at the road behind me. Perhaps you are at a point in your road where looking behind you is especially meaningful as it is for me.
One of my favorite ways to reflect is to write in a journal. In fact, I have multiple journals. Putting my thoughts on paper allows me to read them back to myself, which helps me “see” what I am thinking and feeling. Thus, journaling is a mirror for my otherwise invisible experiences. The words I am sharing through my Substack are the product of my reflections; I secretly hope they facilitate your reflection. I am a strong advocate for reflection, a process by which we can “see” ourselves more clearly.
Mirrors can also come in the form of cues that bring back memories of special times or dearly loved people. My friend, Ginger, told me how a Q-tip can activate advice from her mother about applying make-up, and the relationship she and her mother had. This Q-tip, now a mirror, shows Ginger images of her mother whom she can no longer see with her eyes, having said, “See you on the other side” to her mother last summer. Each of us have a million tiny mirrors in our lives, reflecting memories back to us. Do we notice them?
Message from Mystery Acres
Mystery Acres is a place of reflection for me. Without the distractions of life outside the edge of the forest, I can “see” myself more clearly. The mirror into which I gaze at myself is less smeared by demands and difficulties of my non-forest life. I’m in the woods as I write this. It’s a beautiful, warmer-than normal, day in early February. My life-outside-the-forest has been so intense recently that it has been three months since I have been at Mystery Acres. When I was here last was the final time our dog Ollie was here, though we didn’t know it then.
Sitting beside me as I type is a new companion, Oscar. He’s not Ollie but his presence beside me prompts me to reflect and remember Ollie. There’s something about how much Oscar is devoted to me that reminds me of Ollie. His presence is a mirror that helps me remember the connection I had with Ollie, not a connection to Ollie. I have been connected to many dogs, but Ollie was different, and Oscar is different in the same way. Oscar has only been “our” dog for a little more than three weeks, but he acts like he has always loved me. Ollie was my daughter’s dog, only living with my husband and I for the last twenty-one months of his 14-plus years of life. But Ollie and I shared a connection over the years long before he came to live with us. I could tell him to take care of my daughter and he looked at me as though he understood. When my first grandchild was born, he took up watch outside the nursery door, scratching a hole in the carpet trying to make a bed for himself. I suggested we put a rug on that spot, so he had some type of bed; it also hid the hole in the carpet. I understood Ollie and he seemed to understand me because of the connection we had with each other. And Ollie was so loyal.
Oscar is loyal, too, more to me than to my husband. When I come home, he barks and cries and jumps up and down as though his joy is more than he can contain. I’ve been greeted enthusiastically by many dogs, but none like this. He reacts as though his long-lost friend has, at long last, returned. Oh, and as a side note, we no longer think he’s a corgi-dachshund mix, or “dorgi.” Now that he feels at home with us, he has started jumping as though his legs are made of springs and “herding” by running circles around me. Corgis are known for their herding behavior, but the athleticism Oscar demonstrates seem more like a Jack Russell Terrier. That combination would make him a “cojack.”
Today is Oscar’s first visit to Mystery Acres, a place Ollie loved so dearly. Oscar is on a leash so his desire to go leaping through the forest is restricted. But it’s clear he will love Mystery Acres, albeit in a more energetic way than somber Ollie.
Ollie is here, too, his remains in a small wooden box. I brought the box with us today. At some point my husband and I will spread Ollie’s ashes in the places he most enjoyed. But not today. I don’t want to cry today, not on Oscar’s first day here.
The message of Mystery Acres is a call to reflect, a nudge to remember, a prompting to pause and ponder. The gentle wind in the woods wipes away the messiness of one’s mirror, allowing clarity and calmness. I can almost hear it say: “relax, remember, and be well.” Today is a good day.
Ancient Mystery’s Voice
“Now we see only a dim reflection as in a mirror.” (see 1 Cor. 13:12)
Modern mirrors are excellent at providing clear images from the light bouncing off of people and things; two thousand years ago, however, mirrors were much hazier. Paul, writing to the believers in Corinth, used the metaphor of a mirror to describe the lack of clarity with which they could see God, adding that we would see “clearly face to face”later. This broken world creates fog and smears in one’s ability to clearly see God. After life in this fallen world, believers will be able to see clearly, without the mess of this current life messing up the view.
Some days, when there’s fog and frustration in my path, it is harder to see God as perfect and loving. On those days, I choose to remind myself that He has a plan for me, and it is a plan of love. When I see suffering in someone I love, especially one of my children, I choose to remind myself that God loves them more than I do. I choose to remind myself of a better God than the one I can clearly see because now I can only see a dim reflection of the truth, as in a hazy mirror.
The future can also only be seen dimly, as through a hazy glass. The past can be seen more clearly. As I look into the future, sometimes I doubt things are going to work out. I can’t see the solutions clearly. When I look backwards, I can clearly see how random things fell perfectly into place, creating the path that led to where I am now. By looking into the rear-view mirror, I can remember how I was led safely to today. By reflecting on the past, I can better trust future’s provision. And, in reflecting in this way I can also better trust the God I can now only see dimly.
Living in Mystery
Living in the mystery of reflection requires having a habit of looking into metaphorical mirrors. As we reflect on the important of reflection, I encourage you to think about how well you use “mirrors” in your life. Do you journal? Do you spend quiet time where you can focus your gaze on yourself and your life? Do you periodically look into the rear-view mirror, contemplating how the road ahead might need to be adjusted because of the road behind you? When you can’t see the future clearly (which is all the time), do you look back at yesterday’s supply to find confidence in tomorrow’s supply? Do you move slowly enough to catch glimpses of loved ones and favorites memories in the “mirrors” along your path?
Some people live as though driving a car without any mirrors. Others obsess about the past and don’t sufficiently look at the road ahead of them. A healthy amount of retrospection provides beneficial orientation to future choices. Hindsight provides information for better decisions for upcoming challenges.
And then there are those who race along the path too quickly to notice the simple cues that reflect and connect the present with the people of their past. When we slow down and notice these “mirrors,” the beauty of days long gone can reflect joy into today. Like Ginger and a Q-tip, a tiny thing becomes a meaningful connection.
As an old mom to young parents, I’d like you to ponder “mirror neurons.” These brain cells have been shown to copy the behavior a person observes. Given the neuroplasticity of a child’s brain, these mirror neurons work especially well during childhood, copying the behavior of parents, grandparents, and older siblings. Psychologists use the term “modeling” to refer to the imitation of observed behavior. What neuroscientists have found is there are mirror neurons designed to provide the copying. Children’s behavior becomes a “reflection” of the way the people around them act and speak. In common terms this is called “monkey see, monkey do.” Parents can “see” themselves in their children, who have become human mirrors.
What type of mirror are you? Are you like the moon, able to illuminate the night? Do you point towards what is bright and reflect light into the darkness of others? I’m trying to be a polished version of Mount Cynthus, able to glow beautifully into whatever is around me. Granted, (or is it granite?), I have all too often been too clouded by my own rough times, but my prayer is to be more polished and a better reflector of light.
As you can clearly see, I love reflecting about reflecting, almost as much as I enjoy just reflecting! To live in the mystery of mirrors, I invite you to set aside some daily quiet time, even if it’s just a few minutes, grab a notebook, and start a habit of reflecting. If you don’t know where to start, might I suggest two questions to ponder each day, 1) What am I thankful for today? and 2) What is bothering me today? These two questions have been the strands of my journals for decades. My responses to the first question become prayers of thanks and the second set become requests for help from the One who listens. As I reflect by flipping back through these journals, I can clearly “see” how blessed I am and how much help has come my way.
Connecting with Mystery
Dear Lord of All Mystery, I sometimes move too quickly or am too distracted to use the mirrors in each day. These mirrors can help me see my past and myself better, providing clarity for today and the path ahead. The mirror into which I see You is often fuzzy and I allow that haze to confuse and frustrate me; consequently I don’t trust Your goodness as well as I might. Help me to slow down, focus, and benefit from the mirrors in my life. Thank You for being clear, even when my view is foggy. Amen.
Notes from Dr. Mac
If you want to do your own investigation of any of the scriptures I use, I suggest you go to Bible Gateway. This free online version of the Bible allows a search of words or phrases in various translations.
You can find all my previous posts and podcasts at my ARCHIVE and organized compilations in the My “Books” section.
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