Mirror, Mirror // Guest Goddess
Dear Anjua,
Let's talk about mirror work! How this work came to be and what I've learned. Plus, quick tips should my story resonate. I promise to take it easy on the romanticized, sentimental perspective of mirror work. It sounds simple to sit in a mirror and repeat affirmations, except sentiment can turn to judgement in a flash: “Narcissist." "You are obsessed with your looks." "You'll pick yourself apart." “Who does she think she is?” We can [insert here] any defeating stories about gazing too long at your reflection but the outcome, beyond sentiment, is knowing that everything begins and ends with me. I’ve looked forward to sharing it with you.
Let’s get this out of the way first. In addition to judgement, there’s been a small downside to the way I document this work. Mirror Selfies can be triggering and met with love or hate. I’ve discovered authenticity has no gray area. People find my evolution in the mirror inspiring or annoying. And while we’re not supposed to care what people think, I do consider what’s being reflected back to me.
That doesn't mean I change my approach, it only means "go look at that Rachel” because there’s always new information to consider. I have found judgement truly is a mirror, revealing where I might judge another’s path. That’s it! Nothing more dramatic than that here because even a compact has helped to reveal my true nature. Though my experience is subjective, mirror work has been a way to face my demons, improve my self-awareness, and love Rachel from the inside out.
Now, the back story. As a dancer in ballet shoes and later, as a dancer in heels, my relationship with the mirror was long and complex. Ballet and tap and jazz dance class. You remember don’t you? Saturday mornings as a child, in front of a full wall of mirrors to reflect every move from the point of my toes to the way my wrist tilted to fingers as long as my gaze over them. My focus was on making the most beautiful lines possible with my entire body. As I remember, I know, I never looked into my eyes. Eyes would’ve told the story of a child surviving a violent environment. Through dance, I could escape. The mirror of my childhood was disconnected from the pain, where I found solace in the physical reflection.
Dance was how I saw my physical body as whole until adulthood where I obsessed over imperfections dictated by media and cultural norms. Unfortunately, I had come to accept these as the only way to be beautiful. Those mirrors weren’t "the work" as much as a tool, so it never occurred to me to formally name this medicine I'd rediscovered.
There is such a desire in our world to label and organize everything into neat boxes that describe and divide everything and everyone. But this division perspective of separating body and soul as "good and bad" was a value system that contributed to the very despair and sadness that years later, brought me to tears in front of the mirror.
My next significant mirror relationship was as a dancer dependent upon dollar bills. The same wall of mirrors but instead reflecting stage lights and men eating chicken wings covered in sauce. I didn’t care that saucy-finger-Joe had a dollar in his hand, who wanted saucy cash hanging from a garter belt? I digress. The Rachel in the Office Lounge mirror, again, lost herself in the lines she could make with her body. Here I was able to look into my eyes long enough to be sure my mascara wasn’t running down my face. Why I chose not to see is another letter for another day but the mirror allowed me to disconnect and disembody. Until December 2020.
After a lifetime of unreleased anger and trauma, I sat down in front of the mirror and really looked into my eyes. I remember the day. And what I saw reflected back scared the hell out of me. Despair, a broken heart and there at the end of my rope, was little Rachel. The scared, starving kid. I saw 22-year-old Rachel too, alone and afraid with twin babies. Survival mode on auto-pilot fueled by abuse and unresolved pain. As I gazed beyond my eyes, I heard the lies, the repeated stories that vibrated through my body. Of helplessness. Of giving up. I never before shared how my hearts heaviness could swallow me whole if I’d just let go. In that moment all I could do was cry and stare at the parts that aggrieved me. Hugging little Rachel in the mirror, I sat until little Rachel felt safe, slowly recognizing how little I saw of my actual Self. Big S.
In my earliest mirror efforts, there was a class discovered on Instagram, with a beautiful practice that unfortunately didn’t resonate with me. I took notes about mirror work as devotion to Self but more importantly, the real devotion was to not pick myself apart. I moved slowly, intuitively; building my sacral energy. If I had one rule for myself it's this: every single thing about my soul, my experience, my body…it is all connected. Stay connected Rachel. So I danced, I lounged, I spoke to the reflection, I asked questions and lovingly, observed. And gradually, per Quantum physics, what was observed, changed.
Then in other small ways, I shifted. Validation and love came from the woman inside. Over time, I felt gratitude and dare I say joy. My internal stories changed and the work moved deeper. To real time awareness. To the mirror across from my desk at work, catching my eye, “girl, you OK?” Or "Why were you so rude to that person on the phone?" And I sit with that. In the mirror.
Sometimes little Rachel speaks up. Sometimes, we cry and then she speaks. And we always imagine our reflection together but in peace. Maybe I twirl and drop into a mix of yoga and sensual movement. Maybe I just look into my eyes and consider maybe I’m not such a bad person but what moments do I allow little Rachel to control. Why? And I ask. Or maybe I'm replaying my new mantra because worry hits in my nervous system. Maybe I smile to the mirror in passing; radiating peace and love. Anjua, that smile is compassion for Self, which always turns into compassion for others.
In the mirror, I can clearly see my own complexity, my shadows, and even where I was the problem. I witness myself in real time which makes room for the humanness of others. It’s messy and fun and exhausting and gratifying. Little Rachel begins to trust that I will not abandon her when things get tough. Never again will she have to protect us. I sit here with her unlearning and unfolding.
Through this work, I’ve unlocked a powerful way to kick down my internal obstacles and the negative, looping stories. By reframing the lens I viewed Self with grace, I’ve been able to open up to endless possibilities. It’s changed the way I communicate my needs, anger, desires. And I won't ever take this for granted. But just when I think I’m done, the mirror takes me up-the-down staircase. I’m at the top of one flight, only to discover it’s the bottom of another flight.
With a Gemini Rising, I have the curse and gift of clearly seeing multiple perspectives. Except now, I rest comfortably in paradox and live gratefully in the tension. There is no good or bad Rachel, but a spectrum of Rachel's which translates to how I observe others. Humans are a mélange and by giving myself room to be both / and, I make space for others to be both / and.
There's no happy ending to write about here because it is an ongoing devotion to Self. It’s a practice, it’s a dedication to the "Great Work" of knowing oneself. And even now, some days or more challenging than the next. One minute I’m all in. Dancing and relishing in the love that comes from within and shines outward. I see the faces of my ancestors. The next minute, my eyes are shut to my reflection, not daring to look in the mirror because my body does not live up to the Goddess in my head. In those moments, I ask my reflection for permission to stay, to observe, to know and love her. Even though I know I am a Goddess, the fear, the memory can be a testament to the lasting effects of unrealistic body and beauty standards. Though we know better, the struggle is real. What can I say? I’m a work in progress knowing there is no end, no perfection, just an unfolding of love for that girl in the mirror. All of her parts.
My recommendation to anyone considering mirror work is to begin with one question and let the direction and pace unfold naturally: When was the last time you actually looked at yourself? I mean, really looked at yourself without any disembodiment. Without squinting and glazing your eyes over to distort what you don’t like? When was the last time, you looked into yourself as you brushed your teeth or groomed your hair. When was the last time you saw yourself without thinking of how others see you. When last did you see yourself without others values or aesthetic? Without marketing or sales pitches? Start there and listen from what comes forward. Do not flinch. And remember there is no right or wrong way.
Consider affirmations beyond physical appearance. For example, "I am beautiful," could be “I am powerful." Include what feels genuine, not separate and judgmental: I know my worth. I am worthy of my own love. I am committed to my personal growth.
Ritualize your time in the mirror. Play music and dance. Light candles. Gaze into your eyes as you give yourself a massage. Add plants and/or water features around the mirror.
Gradually add time to your practice. If five minutes feels too long then start with one minute. Be loving and kind with yourself.
Self-love does not come easy, but I continue to slowly chip away at the insecurities and conditioning that hold me back. Anjua, I’m not a coach or a teacher. I’m a woman, a student, who is remembering the time before the world told me I wasn't good enough. If in that remembrance, another woman recognizes her wholeness, then I will continue to share this practice. This has never been about the mirror but how we truly see ourselves.
Love,
Rachel