In the mirror


It’s a simple fact. They seem to be everywhere.  Every store, every office building, at home, in my purse, in your purse.  Nearly every hallway…even in and on my car.

Pretty inconvenient if you are someone who has little interest in self-reflection.

I’ve come to appreciate those painful moments of coming face to face with myself.  I’ve had a few lately.  Not pleasant at all, but so very necessary.

The surface things I have so little interest in.  I know that I’m changing on the outside, and when I glance I see those changes.   Women age.  Men age.  We age.   The reality of that is something I won’t rail against.  Willing to face the fight for my own best self at my age and for the future, but never ever will I be fighting for a younger looking me.  Just the best mid-life I can do.  Life happens.  I happen to like the beauty that experience brings.  It’s a rare beauty,  seen by the wise in the eyes, soul and attitude..  I want that, not the elusive flat tummy and perfect outer me.

The question I’ve been asking myself in the last few days is how I look at others. Do I judge and value based on what self they present? Am I wise enough to look past the fear, the bravado, the makeup or the clothes, to look for who is underneath?

It’s harder more often than not, to extend the Golden Rule of treating others as I want to be treated, because I judge myself by my intentions, yet others by their actions.

I apologized to a friend this week, for insensitivity and immaturity I displayed.  I slipped into judging, and none of it was kind or caring.

Forgiveness is especially sweet when the offended chooses to look beneath my surface, to my heart, and who I am longing to become.

So many mirrors.  I plan to keep looking.

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