“Mirror, mirror, on the wall”

http://www.dailywriting.net/MirrorCeremony.htm

It was just before the hour when the last light of the day still lingers, stretching its waning mantle over the open plains, while the dense wooded lands have already crossed the threshold to begin the long vigil of the night.  I sat alone in my room, listening to the murmur of voices singing in harmony as they drifted across the earth, floating towards me from the monastery that lies on the other side of the valley.  Setting my half- read book down upon the small bureau beside the bed, I closed my eyes and began to take long, deep breaths as if I might somehow inhale their peace and tranquillity and goodness, as if the simple act of allowing their words and music to envelop my being might somehow alter the circumstances of my existence.  I wondered too, if I had followed a different path, made other choices, would I be happier now, or if not happy, then at least content?

After a time, after the last vestiges of their spirits had disappeared, folding themselves back into their cells for the ‘’great silence’’, I opened my eyes again, and was surprised to find that I had been crying – tears of regret for what might have been, for what could never now be.  But, like trying to glimpse something through a glass full of liquid and ending up with nothing except a vision of distorted reality, the water dripping from my eyes also distorted the present scene.

Restless now, I stood up and walked over to the window to look out upon the now black hills through which a stream gurgled its way over rocks and stones singing a lullaby to any who cared to listen. Every now and then the white light of the moon shone down upon its cold waters, casting an otherworldly glow upon it.

I am uncertain about what exactly happened next, but it seemed to me that a ray of bright moonlight began to drift through the night sky, falling gracefully downwards until finally it reached its destination – it drifted across the room I stood in, coming to a standstill at the gilt-edged mirror propped up against the corner wall. I walked slowly towards it, both intrigued and a little frightened of the icy-blue aura emanating from it.  

Standing directly in front of it, I saw a window, partially covered by bleached lace curtains ruffled by the evening breeze. There seemed to be a face, at once both familiar and unfamiliar, looking back at me, a countenance that was happy, eyes lit up from the fire within, lips parted as if she was sharing a joke with someone.  Without a doubt, I knew it was me, yet this was a part of myself I had never seen before.  In the background, the river and mountains were bathed in bright sunshine, and on my head I wore a wide brimmed straw hat, garlanded with wild flowers, a bunch of which I was holding out to ……. myself??  The clothes in the mirror were as different from what I was actually wearing as was the appearance of the features on my face.  Instead of dull and functional, they were flimsy and flighty and brightly coloured.  Bangle after bangle adorned my wrists and arms.  My feet were bare, unencumbered, free. Was this really me? Where was I? How did I get there?

Suddenly, without warning, it all disappeared, almost as quickly as it had come, and I was plunged back into darkness. Gasping I swung around to look out the window and I could swear that I saw that ray of light, my moonbeam, slowly dissipate as it returned to its source, And I began to wonder, if perhaps the vision I had glimpsed briefly had been a gift from the goddesses above, an offering of a divine image of who I really was, a picture of my soul. All that was required now was that I discover a way to free myself from my darkness and chains, and somehow find my way out from the depths where I was hiding.

I lowered myself down on to the wooden floor, closed my eyes and waited for my soul to come to me.