ghosts in mirrors

this is about trying to find words to paint an accurate picture of this ephemeral state/place i’m in; where the was and is and yet to come co-exist—with me as co-creator

Photo by Calvin Lupiya on Unsplash

The heart remembers what the mind forgets — Lebo Mashile

Having joined the “5:00 am club” about a year ago, I thought it would get easier to throw off the sheets and blanket now that I am a veteran in the art of out-racing the sunrise. Somehow, 5:00 am in the summer is harder to face than 5:00 am in the winter. I thought it would be the other way around, yet, here we are.

Nonetheless, after the passionate debate I have with myself when the alarm rings, I continue to hold a deep appreciation for being awake during these pristine hours of the morning. While my morning routine is the same from day to day, each morning is unique in its cadence, mood, and drive. Learning to meet myself anew in the mirror before each sunrise has required me to first redefine myself as “a person who keeps the commitments I make to myself.” And, with the grace of each morning, I must ask, “What is my commitment to myself today?”

ra·​di·​ance

Something special happened this past week, and I’d like to share it with you.

Having won the inner debate and successfully made it out of bed and into my gym clothes, I began my commute to the gym. As usual, the roads were very calm, and I passed by the usual suspects with whom I share a similar morning schedule.

Halfway through my commute, I began to notice a shift in my mood. Almost out of nowhere, I found myself singing gleefully in low tones with a feeling of lightheartedness. Yes, I had sung to myself on this route before, but it was usually to distract myself from my thoughts or just to beat the morning cold. This time, however, the singing was spontaneous, and it felt as though I was celebrating something that had happened, was happening, and was yet to happen. Ephemeral.

I gave myself permission to float in the rhythm. I released the song that asked to come through me. As the hours progressed and I was well into work meetings, I still sensed this feather-like mood. I tried to name it, describe it, and touch it, but could not. It was present without having to assert itself. It felt like a cirrus cloud—light and sparse, yet undoubtedly occupying space.

During one of my meetings, as we were talking about all sorts of work-related items, my colleague spontaneously stopped me mid-sentence and remarked, “I just had to say—you look radiant today.” Mirror.

Hearing this, as I told my colleague, helped me cast less doubt upon this sensation that had grown over the past couple of hours. “Radiance” is a word that I had barely remembered over the past two years. I was more accustomed to dread, depression, fatigue, and anxiety.

en·​tro·​py

Over the coming days, the feeling of being lighter, relieved, and, dare I say, joyful began to build a home within me. My instinct was to question whether this was really happening. When you are so used to storms and dark clouds, it is easy to dismiss and undermine the presence and power of even a few rays of sunshine. You would rather believe that the sun does not exist than hold the hope that the rays of sunshine will actually last through this day and return the day after that and the day after that.

The expectation of disappointment and misery can, unfortunately, become so familiar that you mislabel them as “good company”. You shut your door to other guests—joy, hope, faith, love—because you already know your way through your house even in darkness. Ghosts, you tell yourself, are still some form of company.

So here I am, a few days into thawing. I am looking back at last month’s reflection where I truly and completely felt frozen in summer. As I tune into the sensations within my body right now, I am reminded that change is the only constant. Even ‘frozen’ is simply a state—an unstable one, actually.

Nature tends toward entropy, and I got caught in the whirlwind like dandelion pollen. There was some form of “order” that I found in the state of anguish, hopelessness, and heartache. Now, my system is disrupted in the sense that it is moving towards a necessary disorder. Eventually, this will return to equilibrium.

ligh·​ter

Like the debate I have with myself when the 5:00 am alarm goes off, I am now in some form of inward conversation whose purpose is to relearn the new creature I am becoming. Leading with curiosity, I ask myself, “What if you did not have to rationalize why you feel calm, at peace, and grateful?” “How can you lean into these emotional states without expecting the worst?” “What good does living in paranoia and limbo have?” “Why not give yourself permission to experience the contours, shades, and colors of joy, ease, radiance, and hope?”

I am finding mirrors and reflective surfaces everywhere I go, which remind me that something about me glows. And, oh my dear, it has been a long time coming.

I think I am glowing. No, actually—I feel that I am, again.

Radiance comes from within. It is the light in the eyes, the warmth in the smile, and the energy that flows through every action — Taiye Selasi