The Man in the Mirror

It’s been a while since I’ve taken a good look at myself in the mirror. Not that I don’t do it every morning during my ablutions; but it’s always a quick glance to ensure everything is in order.

On Father’s Day, I stood and looked truly. I saw a 50-year-old man: a grey-bearded, somewhat weathered looking individual who was handsome in his own way. The years had been mostly kind to him, and if I saw someone like him going about their day, I’d probably want to know who they were and what they were up to. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience.

But who was looking at him?

In that moment, I had a feeling that there were two people in the room: the observer and the observed. The observer was me from the inside, and the observed was me from the outside. I wondered how it was possible to be both of these people at once. It occurred to me that the part of me that was observing was the me I’ve lived with for the past half-century. It could have been the me that looked on at 15, 30, or 40. The me that has always had a framework of “who I am.” Yet, the man I saw in the mirror didn’t align with what I thought I was.

I’ve been sitting with that ever since. What would it mean to “catch up” with the me that everyone else sees? What would it mean to internally align with my external self? Time has a certain weight to it, taking its toll on the body, mind, heart, and spirit. There is a gravity to experience, love, loss, struggle, successes, and failures. I’ve had 50 years of them. Far more of those moments forgotten than remembered, but every one of them etched into the fabric of my being, somehow tangible in the man I was looking at.

I have this niggling feeling now… I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ever truly grown up. I wonder if the same eyes that looked back at me were the eyes of my childhood self, teenage self, or young adult self. Some stage of me that locked in and decided this was it.

It’s obviously time to bring the inside and outside back together, perhaps for the first time. But what does that actually mean?

How much choice do I have in this?

A part of me feels set in stone. Another part questions the point of figuring it out if I haven’t already.

Then there’s another part that asks, “Who do I want to be now?”

During a call with my son Leif, I shared this experience and how I’m feeling a bit lost in the transition from over two decades of single-minded focus on parenting. I expressed that something felt out of alignment, and something new was calling me forward. He asked if I was open to something, and I said yes. He then told me about something he heard or watched that suggested if you find yourself wanting to be something you’re not, it might just be a call from a future version of yourself beckoning you to become it.

That hit me like a ton of bricks. It made me realize that my desire for something different or a different state of being is just as valid as my current state of being. If I’m drawn to something or desire an outcome, it could well be my future self offering a path to getting closer to myself.

He’s a smart young man, that Leif

Now, I sit with my dreams and desires and I realize I never took them all that seriously. I never saw them as signposts on the road to becoming the truest version of myself. I took on the idea in my young adult years that they were probably just fancies and frivolity. I’ve spent most of my years with my head down focusing on the next step, whatever it was, sometimes just trying to stay sane, sometimes clawing for some shred of identity that I could be happy with. Always driven forward by a fundamental need to give my children a fair crack at what often seemed like an unfair life. I think I’ve done a great job at that, and will continue to, regardless of the circumstances.

But now it feels exciting to consider that as I move towards my next act, the path forward is actually well-signed and brightly lit.