My Own Stranger

One day I woke up, and looked in the mirror- I was not there, just a reflection of what should of, or what could of, but not what IS.

And I thought as I stood in overwhelm with the stranger in my house, staring back at me from the steam filled mirror;

We exhaust so much energy trying to make ourselves visible to others;

We daily seek to impress those in whom we come into contact by our immense vernacular, our monumental achievements, our outer adornments and dress.

We abandon our divine dream, encapsulated and embodied in our essence, as we transitioned from life eternal to life now mortal; in order to chase the American dream.

We change, a chameleon in an ever changing environment.

We have more faces and personas than colors reflected in nature.

Man made, clones, of our external delights-

We become.....others.....instead of ourselves.

Perplexed, I pondered.... Why do we spend so much time trying to be visible to others

when we are invisible to ourselves-

Is it possible for others to see, what we cannot see?

The next day I awakened from what appeared to be a delusion that lasted several decades.

On this day, I was beside myself, and again, I examined myself, and realized that I did not recognize me.

Then in my subconscious recollection, I hear a voice uttering r.h. Sin's poem, My Own Stranger where he defined it best,

that sometimes when we consult the keeper of our own reflection, we don't recognize self....

The eyes that are the mirror to our soul has become convoluted and disillusioned with the perceptions of others-

So much so, that it will become your reality- It was mine.

But on this day, I began to pray- and I discovered that I was lost.  

And then He found me, and led me to the path of healing, and new life, and I said-

Hello Me.

-Sha'Leda Mirra

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Photo byKatleen Vanackeron