Mirror

My best friend Bill told me that he felt himself a stranger when he looked in the mirror the other day. Have any of you, dear reader, had this strange feeling? What do you see when you look in the mirror? Are you proud of your own beauty or do you feel self-pity of your appearance? Is fear aroused in you when you look in the mirror as you age? Have you ever endeavoured to see through your own eyes so you can directly interact with your soul? Mirror, as an object which evokes our self-awareness, inspires and delights us. It provokes our enquiry of the limit of self-understanding.

Have you ever tried to glanced beyond the stars to imagine what it is like? Have you ever taken your time out to appreciate the scenery of the sky that was lit up by the splendour of the moon and twinkling little stars? Are you in awe of the splendid beauty of it? I hope you are. A comet travels across the sky. Is it beyond our ability capture it or our ability to slow down is already conquered by the virtue of readiness? A mirror produces the same effect within us. Only when we look into a mirror, we realise that time always quietly slips away. It renders us the habit of contemplation of life. After all these years, in retrospect, what do you actually learn? Do you learn to avoid mistakes and mend your characters through experience or do you just keep repeating the same mistakes and confirming your own prejudices? Are you now able to penetrate through your soul to understand who you really are? Unfortunately, humans are prejudiced. We are naturally egocentric. We always overestimate ourselves because we cannot be completely unbiased of ourselves. That is why we come to depend upon our friends, our family, and romantic partners. However, this is not perfect. They are biased too. They cannot sympathise the melancholy within you. They cannot dig up your loneliest loneliness which is concentrated upon your individual soul day and night. There is always your unconscious self concealed from the world which only at times talks to you.

Sometimes I ponder upon the thought whether keeping a psychological distance from others is more desirable. Certain aspects of my personality has to be kept mysterious forever so as to make myself an interesting person. If this is true, how can we understand ourselves? Should we just let our arrogance preside over our reason or is it a paradox that is destined not to be solved? Should reality always be cruel to taunt us with our innate inability to fathom our soul?

Nevertheless, I have learnt one thing. Suffering makes my life fruitful. It makes me conscious of my own self. Through the experience of the deepest pessimistic moods, I find self-realisation. I should not only enjoy what friendship, parental affection, romantic love, and compassion has to offer in a good life, but I should also appreciate the darkest despair, the spectacle of melancholy, the wickedness of contempt, and the fear of frustration. Only through these things, we are to enjoy the greatest things that life has to offer. We must not long for perfection. We need to understand that perfection can only be secured through imperfection. We should not appreciate the beauty of a full moon, but we should be able to perceive the beauty of a moon partially covered with clouds. We should not be in awe of the beauty of flower blossom, but we should be deeply moved to tears by the beauty when flowers wither. We do not admire the beauty of green leaves in spring, but we should appreciate the beauty of loneliness of the leaves falling in autumn. Because this is what life is all about. A perfect life breeds boredom. A life with defects makes us interesting so we can strive towards our goals and dreams. This view is perhaps unduly pessimistic but it takes us a step further to understanding ourselves. We are not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. Defects in our characters render us the longing of perfection. Therefore, let us rejoice the beauty of loneliness and grievance. However sad it is, if we look closer, we will find that it is not only sad, but it is sadly beautiful. Our purpose of life is not to despise sadness, but on the contrary, we make it a work of art.

W