An Image Worth Reflecting

Today I tried Louise Hays’ mirror work practice. It’s simple but has profound results. You are to look into a mirror and repeat 15 times, “I love you.” At first, I felt ridiculous staring at myself saying, “I love you.” I said it over and over as instructed, giggling with how silly I felt. Gradually, I experienced a change of mind; then a change of heart flowed through me. I calmed down and stared at that face in the mirror.

How many times had I looked in the mirror upon awaking and felt a chill zip through me as a scary-looking, unattractive, old, worn-out woman returned the look, wondering what happened to the pretty face she used to see in earlier years. And more perplexing was where did the attractive woman go who had looked in the mirror earlier that week. “Oh well,” I thought, “I had makeup on at that time. Of course I looked better.” But I wasn’t born with makeup on my face. I recalled not wearing makeup (perhaps a bit of blush) in high school and feeling good about myself.

I was haunted by thoughts of what had happened. What had the many years done to me? I reviewed a small portion of my experiences and answered, “Life happened.” Scores of superficial friendships (I, too, was as shallow as they), unappreciative souls, some with no empathy, some filled with jealousy, and over what. Over their perceptions that I was happy with myself. Friends with no understanding that some of us are experts at masking our inner feelings and walking around with a smile on our faces no matter what the circumstances. A high school girlfriend had once challenged me once with an anger-filled statement, “Why are you smiling all the time? What are you so happy about?” It didn’t sit well with her that I always displayed joy. And I was joyous, at least most of the time. I knew how to hide the painful emotions buried deep into my soul. It was high school. I loved going to school and I loved doing well. And most of all, I loved being surrounded boys.

Back to the current time and place of staring at myself in the mirror before my spiritual reflection commanded my attention. Before the mirror work, I looked at the same person daily, my large eyes that were a bit uneven, the never-fixed nose that a boy broke in high school during a joke that turned bad, the hair that had thinned out from being over-dosed with Prednisone to supposedly save my life during a health crisis, the uneven face where one side was a tad different from the other side, showing perhaps an alternative personality from God-knows-what.

My goofy laughter from my initial “I love you” had subsided and I gazed into my watery hazel-green eyes. “I love you?” I thought of the numerous friendships I had forged and the so-called friends who had betrayed me big-time. I reminisced and rejoiced in my satisfaction over the number of boyfriends I had known through the years, I winced at the many hospital stays I survived, figuring the total added to losing several years of an active life. I smiled with satisfaction when I thought of the many loves I had experienced and the few good people who loved me back in between the bad ones.

“I love you” took on a new dimension. It produced an inner light that made me feel blessed. The mirror assignment was to be performed daily, with 15 repetitions. By the last “I love you,” my silliness had disappeared and a warm presence overwhelmed me. I was proud of all the times I forgave people for their insidious actions. I was relieved that I could go forth in life without holding a grudge or even a care for what they had done. Their behavior didn’t matter. It would be their karma, not mine. They didn’t win because I remained kind and even naïve, regardless of the past. It didn’t matter because I could look in the mirror and know that when I said, “I love you,” I meant it.

Lindsey Parker Novak

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I write At Work, a syndicated business Q&A column and worked as a professional content writer and editor, but my stories here are about my personal experiences.