Because I consciously weed violence and angry reactivity out of my inner garden—with compassion and gratitude for what they’ve taught me—I find myself with far more space to notice present moment beauty and explore creative possibilities for the future.
And lately, my contemplations have turned toward mirrors.
We often describe others as “mirrors” for ourselves, but that metaphor deserves more thoughtful attention. Because mirrors, while useful, have real limitations.
A mirror only reflects what sits at the surface—and only from one angle. It captures skin, hair, expression. It shows us nothing of what lies behind our eyes, or within our breath. It can’t see our back, our depth, or the emotional landscape that lives inside. All we get is a fleeting, flattened, and carefully framed image.
Whether that image appears flattering or distorted depends entirely on:
• where we’re standing
• what we expect to see
• and how much we’ve already decided about who we are
Sometimes we love what the mirror shows us. Other times, we recoil. Either way, we often make the mirror responsible for how we feel about what we’re seeing.
In human relationships, I’ve observed two common egoic patterns when people feel “reflected” by another:
1. Fix the Mirror
When someone reflects something unflattering back to us—through words, tone, emotional discharge, or judgment—we assume they must be a bad mirror.
We try to polish, correct, or reshape them to reflect something more pleasing.
And if we can’t change them, we discredit them—casting them as distorted, dusty, unreliable.
We declare them a “bad mirror,” unworthy of trust, so we don’t have to reckon with the dissonance their reflection has stirred in us.
2. Fix the Self
The other pattern is more inward, but just as reactive.
When someone reflects something we don’t like, we assume we must be broken.
So we rush to fix ourselves.
We apply metaphorical makeup, adjust our posture, perform a better version of “me” in hopes of earning an admiring gaze.
We project a polished image—and then grow attached to being mirrored back as acceptable, lovable, whole.
Neither of these patterns reveals who we truly are.
Because the truth is this:
A mirror was never meant to show us the totality of ourselves.
It can’t. No surface reflection can. Not a photograph. Not a glance. Not even the most intimate relationship.
If I need a mirror to tell me how I am, I’m focusing on a sliver—just the current surface expression—and mistaking it for the whole.
And it’s not only a mistake, it’s a trap.
We begin to believe we are how we appear.
We begin to need others to reflect us the “right” way.
We start trying to control the reflection, instead of attuning to our own inner light.
Shattering the Looking Glass
Better, I think, to let the mirror shatter.
To stop outsourcing our sense of being to surface reflections.
To tune inward and ask:
• Do I feel peaceful?
• Do I feel clear?
• Do I feel connected to life, to self, to others?
If so, I don’t need a mirror to affirm my being.
And if someone does cast a sharp or distorted image of me, I don’t need to accept it as truth.
In fact, I can see their “reflection” of me as a revelation of them—of their emotional state, their needs, their unhealed stories. And with that realization comes freedom, not defensiveness.
That’s the real power of not needing a mirror.
It lets me see through the reflection—into the other’s pain, their fear, their longing to be safe.
It turns the funhouse into a sanctuary of compassion.
Beyond Reflection: Toward Relating
When I stop craving better reflection, better recognition, better portrayal…
…I step out of the distorted carnival of ego and into the deeper truth of relational being.
I stop asking, “How do you see me?”
And start asking, “What do we share? What are we creating together in this moment?”
That shift is subtle—but revolutionary.
Because it invites presence.
It invites intimacy.
It invites mutual exploration over mutual performance.
We do not need to be perfectly reflected.
We need to be met.
We need to be felt.
We need to see one another beneath the surface.
As Emerson once wrote:
“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.”
Let’s stop asking mirrors to show us our soul.
Let’s look within instead.
And then let’s look at each other—with clear eyes, soft hearts, and the courage to be seen without needing to either polish or be polished.
