we see in a glass, darkly

this was paul, speaking as a christian, to christians. many credit this as the beginning of the origin of thought behind the scientific method. doubt and self-doubt are allied with truth, yet truth as we know it always remains partial and provisional. it's an admission of inescapable fallibility. for our purposes here, we'll put aside the petri dishes and examine human foibles.

when paul said "glass", he meant mirror, and how many have the inclination and the courage for honest introspection? as long as life is humming along essentially bump-free from day-to-day any sort of probing doesn't seem necessary. let's face it, from national health coverage to why anybody should care about branjolina, not many of us want to face the big questions.

years ago, an on-line suitor asked me to describe myself, mentally and emotionally. after i'd done so, he asked "is that how you are, or how you want me to see you?" can you parse the difference? at first, we're selective in what we allow others to view of our inner works. don't wanna scare away the natives, and for most the inherent need to pair off trumps a willingness to share the raw uncut version of ourselves. unpleasant aspects like selfishness or a martyr-complex aren't anything we like to admit even in our darkest of times alone, so it's not going on the table the first or even tenth time you meet for drinks. besides, is there anybody that hasn't secretly hoped that the right partner would cure their selfish prickness? (<--insert relevant personal flaw here.)

when relationships begin, we put our best foot forward. we want our colorful peacock plumes to be the thing seen, not the horned scraggly claws with which we daily sustain ourselves through grubbing in the sand. to be fair, the starry-eyed lover across the candle-lit table has done her own amount of projecting, envisioning how best to incorporate into her life this man she's coming to love. he's described how he *is*, what he *wants*, of course edited for the audience, and honed after many years of this same talk in this same flattering dim light. he's described himself as a good listener. does she see his focus wandering when she's talking about her 5th-grade dance recital? she's told him she's always loved to travel. he longs to see new zealand, so how does he integrate that with the truth of the sum of her trips being to nyc and florida? disconnects might get a flicker of recognition, but they easily get brushed aside with the flush of lust and hope washing over them both.

so each partner takes that original 8x10 glossy and puts in on the mantle. those snapshots remain and friends and relations see them too. marriage, mortgages, mini-mes ensue. where then is there room for ugly truths to raise their heads? we struggle to preserve the whole, protect the other, yet not lose ourselves. it can be a struggle of mammoth proportions. time goes by, and sometimes, we can no longer bear to look because we no longer see a mirror, but our personal equivalent of the portrait of dorian gray. a storm comes. a deafening thunderclap shatters the glass. suddenly, we are faced with a partner who's no longer just seeing our image, but is looking through the glass lens on a microscope's end. every flaw and misstep magnified so that the tiniest wiggliest amoeba looks like godzilla. two monsters in a room. now what?

can we find it in our hearts to keep the love big enough to accept our partner as he is, even as he wanted to be, to accept that his intentions were good? can we understand that we are a party to perspective as well? can we reconcile in ourselves that all along, we looked only in our own glass, and at photos taken long ago that still rest over the fireplace, not through the heart's window glass and into him? how can we honestly fault him for being what he is, and not what we wanted him to be?