Reflections

There was a time when no one knew what they looked like. Unless they happened upon a well lit, quiet pond, they knew themselves only in the responses of others. What would that be like? To know, by sight, one's hands, one's feet -- but your own face would be a mystery. Your only clues would lie in the faces of others; perhaps in the face of your mother, or father, or siblings -- if you knew who they were. In the faces of your tribe.

There would be no practice of gestures and smiles in the dressing room mirror. Dancing, you would move your body in response to the bodies of others, not in response to something you had seen reflected. Would these people have been less self-conscious? Would they have given more attention to others, and less to themselves?

They say, now, that we are hard-wired to recognize beauty, symmetry, in the faces of others. But I can't help suspect that beauty might have been more fluid then. If some person were gifted -- as some are -- with unusual sensuality, with power and charisma, would their appearance -- whatever it might be -- become a standard of beauty to their people? Would the tribe slowly find beauty in round faces, or short limbs, or a gap between the teeth?

Instead of "I am beautiful" or "I am ugly", would one think: "He finds me beautiful", "She thinks I'm ugly"? Would any attempt to alter that opinion involve, not examining oneself in a mirror, but changing one's behavior with that person?

Of course, on the other side, if the whole tribe agreed that you were ugly, you would find no reassurance in the mirror. But, in those cases, we seldom find reassurance there, anyway; we find confirmation. Even today, the mirror is not so powerful as to entirely overcome the opinion of the tribe. At least, not the punishing opinion.

We are still mirrors to one another, even with glass hanging in every room; even with reflective surfaces everywhere: shop windows, the burnished metal clothing of modern buildings, the shiny bodies of cars. Still, we look at one another and think: You are beautiful. You are smart. You are neurotic as hell.

Sometimes, we transfer ourselves, our highest hopes, our deepest fears, whole onto the face of another. We call this falling in love. If you stand between two people who are doing this to one another, you are likely to disappear altogether, in the brightness of what they call love. You will vanish; you will become invisible.

Until you find someone who will accept, who will reflect, your own image.

But then, too, you disappear.

It is possible to vanish into one's own reflection. It is possible to become flat and thin and empty, like a filmed old looking glass; nothing but clouded reflection.

Some scientists believe that most other animals have no sense of self; that they exist only within themselves, with no sense that they are themselves. They point to the kitten that chases itself in the glass, thinking there is another kitten there, until it tires of the pointless exercise and refuses to be fooled again. They paint orange spots on the foreheads of chimpanzees and elephants, and are amazed when the creature sees itself; points to the orange on its own head; realizes it is looking at itself.

Timothy's mother had a poodle, that, he swears, knew itself in the mirror. It would come home from being fluffed and ribboned and dyed and manicured, leap from its mistress' arms, and run upstairs to the dressing room to admire itself in the mirror. It would lift each front paw, and examine the nail polish in the reflection. It would prance and pose.

Anyone who has lived with a poodle would believe this story.

But think -- most dogs return from the groomer and go to their human for admiration: Do you like me this way? Do you still love me? Am I cute?

What shift is it that moves us from seeking such validation from our companions, to seeking it in our reflections?

That poodle is no longer a dog.

Are we still human?

Comments

[Mage Bailey]

Sometimes we find ourselves Photoshopped, but mostly still human. :)

[SB]

Photoshopped?? You think that's photoshopped?

Why, that's what I actually look like...

... on the Web.

[John B.]

This made for thoughtful reading. I took the liberty of plugging it over at my place; I hope some folks find their way here to read it.

[poetryman69]

Moonscapes

lunar reflections at even tide as the wind rises and the sky fills with stars.

I see my self in nature. I look better that way.

[Mary Scriver]

A related but equally absorbing subject is the way blind people show expression, since they don't have a way of knowing what kind of faces other people are making. Does Ray Charles KNOW that other people don't throw their heads back and show their teeth when they play the piano? Do people show more expression or less when they are blind? What about all those stylized little grimaces we make: tongue in the corner of the mouth, wrinkling up the nose, pursing the mouth -- are they somehow built in, genetic? Or do you learn to copy other folks?

Prairie Mary