Smoke and mirrors

Who hasn’t occasionally wondered, “How does the world see me?” 

For me that information generally seems to come from two extremes.  People who really hate something about me, or people who really love me.  Neither one are particularly reliable sources!  One wants to hurt me, the other make me feel good.

Still, if it is possible to know what someone really thinks from a dispassionate source, I find it intriguing. 

And when that coincides with what I already believe, or hear from other sources, it feels like truth.   When it doesn’t, it is confusing, if I am honest.

Sometimes I wish I had a mirror on the wall, not to tell me who is the most beautiful in the land, but who I really am!  Who is this person I live inside of?  What are the most basic parts of me made up of behind all the smoke and mirrors that I have learned to wear throughout the years? 

Of course the smoke and mirrors really are a big part of who I am.  What I choose to present to the world says a lot about me -- just not everything.  What I want to see are the vulnerable parts that make those choices.

Where are the uncharitable thoughts born?  Why is anger sometimes trembling under the surface of a smile, or compassion lurking behind the anger?

Perhaps the question is not how the world sees me, but how do I really see myself.  At the extremes I ask myself, “Am I some dark angel masquerading as light, or am I really light perforated by living?”

The truth is probably much less dramatic, but the myth is much more intriguing.