March 21st, 2006
I don't like to talk about this, but it's kind of necessary to make a point: I used to have this thing on my forehead, a large ugly cyst that grew slowly over years.
Is anyone still reading? Okay, good. Thanks for hanging in there. I used to stand looking in the mirror and see nothing but that stupid cyst. I lost sight of my eyes and nose, my mouth. I could only look in the mirror and watch as that ugly big thing appeared to be the only prominent feature. It was all I saw. Hell, I even had one of the sharpest and most far-reaching dreams I ever had about it.
Now, the fact is that it was never that large. I mean, I functioned just fine, though people certainly noticed it and I could not put my glasses on fully. But it's been removed long since, and there is nothing but a tiny scar to remind me of it—a scar that is invisible from more than a metre away. So I look in the mirror and see my face again. But I no longer trust what I see.
You see, it demonstrated something to me: Despite my clearheadedness about a great many things, I can have my perceptions clouded so much that my observations of some part of the world can be entirely wrong. I mean this: I looked at a picture of me when that cyst was just about at its largest size and although I can see it in the photograph, it had hardly taken over my face! What I saw in the mirror was all about the focus of my attention, not an objective summation of what was really reflected back to me.
Have you ever seen a map of the human body as seen by the central nervous system? Different parts of our bodies have different densities of nerve endings. And if one were to create a map of the human body based on those different densities, the result would not look very human at all: Huge hands, a tongue so large it wouldn't fit into the mouth. Absolutely enourmous genitalia. Tiny thin arms and legs, no back to speak of, and practically no buttocks at all. It is how we look to ourselves (well, to the part of our brain responsible for keeping track of our nerves).
Interesting, isn't it? It is just the same as when we look into the mirror: We see someone that doesn't exist: it's ourselves, all right, but tainted and filtered by our own self-perception ... distorted most likely, and not accurate. Just like when I saw nothing but a cyst when I looked in the mirror, just like so many people I know who see a reflection of themselves that is distorted by their own perceptions; even the very wiring in our bodies betrays us, in a sense, by not giving us a faithful reflection of our physical form.
It makes it very difficult to sort through all the perceptions to come up with an accurate picture of how we look to the rest of the world. And, sadly, the rest of the world has its own perceptions about how we look, too (but there's nothing we can do about that, is there? Well, not unless you have some otherwise white trashy pop star's image team working on changing public perceptions of you.)
Have you ever sat on a bus next to a woman with so much makeup that you were certain she applied it with a trowel? Or have you ever stood in an elevator close to some expensively-suited man who smelled so strongly of after-shave that your eyes began to water and your nose hairs curled? And have you ever wondered how these people couldn't help but notice it themselves (and thus stop doing it)? Well, it's all about their perceptions of themselves. That woman thinks she has beauty issues that only three kilos of cosmetics can cure. Mr. Suit thinks he stinks.
(Wow, can you imagine what twisted horrid little thinking processes must go on in the minds of all the Mr. Suits of the world? What's that you say? You can't? No ... me neither, actually. Yeah, and I also agree with you that it's better left unknown. Sorry to bring it up.)
You can look at yourself in the mirror and be disappointed, alarmed, shocked, surprised at what you see ... but don't ever think that what you see there bears any resemblance to what the rest of the world sees when they look at you. Perhaps you have looked at photographs of your younger self and thought, "Geez, I looked better back then than I thought!" Or perhaps you have been paid a compliment that is at odds with how you thought you felt.
It's all about perceptions. And for whatever reason, we have a hard time perceiving ourselves objectively.
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