Mirrors

There's a story in the news today about a man, Lester Alford, who has filed a civil suit against the New Jersey State Department of Corrections over the three years he spent in solitary confinement, a result of his conviction on a murder charge.  This post is not about his crime or his punishment.  It's about a comment that he made:  They locked me in a cell behind a cage like an animal.  I didn't get to see my own face for three years.

Think about that for a minute.  Or more.  Take your time.

I just went through my house and counted thirteen mirrors hanging on the walls.  (Yikes!)  That's not counting small hand-held mirrors or decorative things with mirrored parts or mirrors that are sitting in storage for who knows what or when.  Thirteen mirrors for, at the most, five people who have lived here at the same time.  We all knew what we looked like.  We might not have ever seen our own faces, but we saw reflections of our faces, and that was good enough.

Have you ever seen a picture of yourself and thought that the part in your hair was on the wrong side?  You have (unless you don't part your hair).  Because you have only seen your reflection in a mirror, which is a reversal of reality.  The picture is true; the reflection is the reverse.  We're all backwards.

So today I am in love with mirrors.  Which is weird, really, because these days, I rarely look into mirrors.  I kind of like thinking that I still look like I did a few decades ago.  Looking into mirrors only scolds me for my fantasy.  Nonetheless, my morning routine always involves a mirror, if only to observe myself brushing my teeth.  Is that necessary?  Of course not.  And that's my point, I guess.

Do we need to know what we look like on the outside? Several years ago, I had MOHS surgery to remove a basal cell carcinoma on my left nostril.  They forgot to tell me that I would need a plastic surgeon.  Consequently, the left side of my nose is a bit deformed.  When I look into a mirror, I see that in all its blazing glory, along with the neon sign that points to it, screaming Look at the freak with the weird nose!  But the rest of the time, when I am not looking into a mirror, I do not think about my sad nose.

So why be in love with mirrors?  I guess because it's a way to make sure I am still here.  If I can make a reflection in a mirror, I am still on this plane.  I feel grounded.  And every once in awhile, I just need to check and make sure.  How about you?