Jan, Not Happy.
The mirror hangs in the hallway where the light is too dim to really show any truth. Makes it easy to avoid even a glance at reality as I routinely dash between bath and bed.
But tonight is the night and I pound up the stairs. Responsibility may have been left at the gate, but all the other tenuous and to me now hateful aspirations are too. Who cares about serenity and contentment. As for wisdom...what a farce! What self righteousness!
I don't just pound, I storm up the stairs and even before I get to the mirror I can see that my aura is radiating flashes of red....a crescendo of anger:I look at those flashes, brilliant, jagged and crashing in a disharmony that is almost a delight to watch, some comfort in peversity. They drown out all other hues and I don't care that they bring an ugliness with their energy.
Slowly, ever so slowly,the chaos which has fuelled these shockwaves will subside. But there is no taking back the big bang that started it all. Not just the ripple of a stone skimming over a millpond, more the impact of a meteorite ripping through my universe and no bubbles in a hot bath or flickering candles will have the power to change the image the mirror is projecting now.
Time will be the only healer. It will see the jagged lightning gradually tamed and retreat, leaving a softer glow in the mirror. Not the green and mauve tints of the past but a stronger flush of fuschia. For the mirror is wise and sees all things, notices that we prefer to look away. Sees perhaps too that we slowly gain strength from adversity and even when we resist, are forced by the awful grace of the gods, towards wisdom.