The Mirror Project
Sometimes, when the landscape changes, a thing in us shifts. Breaks loose, changes just enough. When two buildings fall and change a skyline, when wind and water change the face of a beloved town, when fire bares a hillside overlooking a city of dreams. There are moments when as simple a shift as a small bluff giving way and tumbling down onto a trail known to one person through fifteen hundred walks, can break that stuck thing loose.
Today was just that.
This trail, this forest, this spot on the river – this one small sweet spot – has always felt magic, mystic, mine. It is more than a sliver of me – I am a sliver of it.
Mirrors held up,
mirrors gazed into,
a chance reflection in a storefront window a darkened windshield
that seals a thought.
There is more than this, but it is a beginning.
It is about the underneaths, the behinds, the things off to the left just next to where we can see. It is about the surrounding and inside of and the things too big, too scary in our not-knowing, to look at in their fullness. So we narrow our vision to small views of chaos, glance not gaze into the mirror, and see. We need you here.
By definition, a mirror can never show the same reflection twice. Not to any two people, not in any second glance. There is no stasis.