Sometimes the feelings hit hard: hopelessness, anger, consuming rage. In those moments it feels like the world is collapsing — bills outpacing pay, society fraying, work reduced to games that don’t matter. I see myself through a mirror of bronze, warped and dark, and the reflection looks smaller than I am.
My first attempt today was full of these storms: dark, angry, bitter, frustrated. It stays in my journal. Catharsis is, at best, a private voice. But I did learn something: reflection isn’t the truth; it’s a distortion.
Through a glass, darkly
Old writings describe how polished bronze was once used as a mirror. It gave a reflection, but never without ripples and bends. You could see yourself, but never quite straight.
That’s how distorted feelings work. Anger, despair, exhaustion — they bend the image. They make you believe you’re trapped, powerless, insignificant. They make the world look crueler than it really is.
And when you look at yourself in the mirror, the distortion can take many shapes. Maybe you see an old man, worn down and fading. Maybe you see a teenager who looks unprepared and incapable. Maybe you see a parent who seems tired and run over. Maybe you see a corporate worker struggling just to make ends meet. Whatever you see in that glass, it isn’t really you.
The reflection is only surface. The warped mirror doesn’t define you.
What you see in the inner fire is the truth of you. That’s the reflection that matters. It shows you alive, capable, creative. It shows you not as the world labels you, but as you actually are — burning, growing, becoming.
The fire doesn’t erase the storm. It burns through it. It turns despair into fuel. It says: this isn’t the whole story.
When you stop staring at the warped glass and return to the flame, the false reflection loses its power. You remember that you’re not the distortion. You’re the light that casts it. And that’s what you should cling to, develop, and share.
Pivoting
You can come back from these distorted feelings. The glass still exists, the warped reflection still shows up, but you don’t have to believe it:
- Name the distortion for what it is — anger, fear, exhaustion, but not truth. Give it agency only within its very limited domain, and only for a moment, and then send it away.
- Turn to the inner fire, even when it feels faint. Collect the warmth and energy and drive it brings you. Recognize your place in the world as a rare and valuable person.
- Take the biggest stride you can back into the world with clarity, proving to yourself that the flame hasn’t gone out.
One of the most reliable ways to make this pivot is to return to the writings you trust and to deep meditation. Both are ways of tuning the signal, of separating the static of your feelings from the steady rhythm beneath.
It may be scripture and prayer (those are my anchors). It may be other texts, poems, teachings, or reflections that have proven trustworthy over time. It may be silent walks, or music that carries you into stillness, or just breathing.
What matters is not the specific form but the discipline of returning — the deliberate act of setting aside the false mirror to focus on the deeper reflection, to find solace in the truth.
This pivot, repeated again and again, is how you regain direction when everything feels bent out of shape.
Seeing more clearly
You live with warped reflections. Feelings mislead you. Mirrors lie. But the fire is real. It steadies you. It reminds you that your value isn’t dictated by the curve of the glass or the weather of the day.
When the glass bends the light, you can still look past it. You can still walk back to the fire and let it guide you forward.
The storm will come. The distorted mirror will flash its false image. But the real story is the choice to step away from the warped reflection, re-center on the flame, and let the inner fire show you who you really are.
That’s how you keep going, even through a glass, darkly.
Burn slow. Build deep. Be the proof.