I broke a mirror this morning. and then knocked a glass of water over onto the counter, rug, floor, and my socks.
both before the clock turned 4:50.
most of my mornings go more smoothly, at least the segment of morning when no children are involved. this was was exceptionally different.
back to the mirror.
what's the first thing you think of when you hear about a broken mirror?
seven years of bad luck.
well, I've decided that my broken mirror is bringing the end to my past seven years of, at times, questionable "luck." I decided it was heralding in, with its tinkling, chiming sound as it splintered and its little pieces danced across the tile floor, a long and prosperous period of my life. I'll begin with seven years, and consider it renewable without need of future breakage.
sounds good to me.
I could also consider it an opportunity to let go of my limited vision of myself, to let go of who I might think I am. to not be held to what a traditional mirror reflects, but to acknowledge a deeper, inner core of who I am, which will never be captured by a simple hand held mirror. (coldplay's viva la vida is running through my head, be my mirror, my sword, my shield . . . and not for the first time, either.)
that sounds good, too.
think I'm set for the day.