“The face in the mirror – could never, ever be me…”
~ Lyrics: James R. Taylor, performed by Kleeblatt Century
Mirrors are very useful objects – reflecting personal appearance for grooming: Do I have spinach stuck between my teeth? Did I awake with bed hair? But then mirrors never learnt to lie, as some of us humans would have preferred them to do – they reflect true physical faces and bodies – nothing more and nothing less. Especially in clothing shops’ fitting rooms.
When I look in the mirror, I see short dark brown hair flecked with grey, blueish grey eyes, smile lines and crows feet … and then I stop seeing, or rather, my brain stops seeing. It has its own image of the person it should be seeing, and as there is very little congruence, it rejects the message passed to it by the optic nerves.
In my subconscious mind, an image had been forming for many years and it is only lately that I have consciously allowed the personality that had emerged and become me, to take possession of that image. My infatuation with the television series in the late 1980’s to early 1990’s, as well as my idolization of my father, who had died when I was 11, probably had a lot to do with the physical characteristics of this image. He is a MacGiver-ish looking guy with some physical resemblance to my father, a bit run to seed. As my real appearance will never resemble the one in my mind, I let him live there and be himself, physical appearance and all. He is the captain of this vessel called “Body” and had been steering my life forward since a few years ago when I allowed him to be. It does not matter that others do not recognize him. They can get to know him as they get to know me better. The ignorance on their part of whom they are dealing with, leaves me amused, but content. He is I, I am he. And so the deception continues.
I have made peace with the fact that I am on a journey to un-becoming and will never physically become the man who lives in my mind. But that’s okay. As long as he lives there and his existence acts as the placenta for my continued existence, I can function.
After all, the journey to myself is a mental one – it is there where I can be who I was meant to be.
But no, the face and the body in the mirror could never, ever be me.
“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything.
Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you
so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”
~ Author Unknown