Reflection is writing from the soul, admittance that all is not as it should be, a search in a labyrinth for answers to questions that require sometimes immediate answers. Whenever I write, I reflect. When I reflect the best, I am writing. I can slow down my mind, transcribe, make sense of things that don’t make sense in the noise of my head.
Sometimes I go to holy places to reflect—an empty church, sacred grounds, cemeteries, monasteries, the woods. I think and might want to make notes but don’t. Somehow it feels false to me to break the silence, no matter how much I don’t want to forget the words before I return.
Poetry—the synthesizing and expression of all that seems disconnected. Nothing stands alone, no thought, action, belief or person. Poetry puts me together.
Reflection is sometimes a public expression of my state of mind. I am angry, depressed or frustrated and those feelings come through in negative ways. I feel I can’t control my writing because writing is how I release. I’ve been told this is destructive, but I can’t help believing there is some just cause in expressing anger over injustice. Besides, no one is forced to read what I write. Maybe I am just trying to justify my actions, but part of me strongly believes this and says, “I have as much a right to rant as anyone else. Don’t tread on me.”
The mirror and the scale—I give them too much power, as if big hips, a bad hair day and zits are reflections of the true me. Then my esteem goes down. I need to give these things the finger.
I am grateful I can reflect, especially through writing. Writing is a marvelous tool, a gift from God.
Last year, I took part in the "Letters of Gratitude" course during which we were tasked to write 30 letters on 30 different topics until we reached a place of thankfulness. Above is my 25th letter.