The Mirror

The most ruthless critique of my style comes when I look in the mirror. It begins politely, as with all my exchanges, and, once the resistance begins to blossom, the hunt begins. The hunt includes “who, what, why, where and when?” and then goes deeper, looking for meaning and purpose in most actions. At least that was the way it used to work.

Mark Twight (Kiss or Kill, chapter 18) said it perfectly: “…use the mirror to cut to the heart of things, to uncover your true self; use the razor to cut away what you don’t need. Following the life you want doesn’t include a recipe, that’s what got you here in the first place.”

Like I’ve expressed in the past, a lot of what confuses people is my body, my voice and my energetic control and exchange. It can be very difficult to see, hear and feel your way past those things to actually hear what’s in my heart.

It is in my nature to mirror what is happening in front of me. It kept me safe and, through the years, has become something akin to a superpower. Interpreting, sensing, feeling and reading that subtle field is what I do. It is the source of my enlightenment and may be one of the most interesting things about me. Problem is that powers can be negative, positive and neutral.

The negative is, and always will be, interpersonal. I have never met anyone that has offered to help me correct the issue (it’s a little obscure, not many peers) and the actual portion of my system that interprets these signals is directly connected to my endocrine system. When I feel tension, as an example, it is roughly akin to pouring coffee down my throat and rubbing a Brillo pad on my feet. The stimulus makes me want to run as fast as I can.

The positive is, and always will be, interpersonal. My loyalty shines through each and every human connection that I make. My ability to connect and converse and maintain friendships across time and space, especially at a distance, has always been an interesting side effect. It’s also the place where my feelings of love, devotion and commitment come into play. You’d call it my feminine.

And the neutral is what I avoid…. Nothing scares me more than bland, tasteless, humorless, television watching androgenous mediocrity. Why? Because it’s accepted by our social structure to keep us stupid consumers of nothing but shit designed to keep us bland, tasteless, humorless (unless approved by the authorities) and drunkenly stupid but awake enough to have us remember to go get drunk again because it’s the fourth of Valentine’s day Kwanzaa cake day…. Buy ‘merican!!!

And, lastly, we agree. Assigning you values that you don’t/won’t/can’t or are indifferent to is a basic crime that I truly wasn’t aware I was committing. Won’t happen again, guaranteed. Thanks for caring enough to actually sit here and chill for a minute. Much love

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