On My Mind: In My Mind's Eye

In my mind's eye I am a good man. I greet people with a sincere and warm smile. I am open and friendly. I answer all questions truthfully and earnestly. I take eager interest in what others have to say and think. I am an open book that people can trust. I exemplify the concept of honesty and transparency. I speak my mind, never holding back. I am authentic in all my interactions. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am a judicious person. My eyes are keen and sharp. Nothing goes unnoticed. I pick up on tells and falsehoods, winnowing out the lies and finding the core of the matter. My mind quickly navigates through a loaded question to find the core. My face reads with impassive nature as I carefully slip through smoke screens and find true weaknesses and strengths. Truth reigns in my mind, and I can see when bad deeds are done with good intention or spy false flattery from a scheming heart. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am a teacher. My glasses are perched high on my nose and my eyes sparkle with cheer. My brain overflows with connections and arcane facts. I philosophize about the abstract and the concrete; reveling in discussions and tempering ideas in trials of fire. I find joy in sharing facts and shepherding students through difficult concepts. I only view success as when they succeed. My crowning joy is their faces lighting up as they too get a taste of the joys of knowledge and making breakthroughs in understanding. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am the jester. I canter about in a mask. I jest and bring mirth to those around me. I gladly take on a farce to save the dignity of others. I lower myself into the deepest pits of silliness to make others happy. I take on insult after insult and respond with my smile. But from behind the mask I know it doesn't touch me. Behind the mask I know who I truly am, where my strengths lie, and so through the holes in the mask my eyes shine with glee at how little they can touch me. How behind all the insults and jests I stand with a straight back and a proud heart. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am a cunning tactician. A stone face belies nothing of my intent. Masterful strokes of genius burst within my skull as deft and graceful orchestrations and machinations play out before me. I see the crossroads before myself and before others. I nudge a little here, I prod a touch there, and suddenly without their knowledge all play along to my grand scheme. Like little puppets people play to the tune and script given. And should someone see through the masquerade, there is a Plan B through Z. I rig the game so all endings benefit me. And no one is the wiser. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am the rebel. I see the sturdy walls built around me to confine me. I see ceilings and chains and holding cells to guide me on the "right" way. I grasp a hammer and beat down on the classical way. I refuse to walk the beaten path. I shatter ceilings and pursue a true world with true states and true feelings. I detest the games people play or the routes prescribed, forging a different path through rubble and society's broken promises. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am a humble servant. I keep my face downcast. I scrub the lines and take orders. I gladly do what others scoff at. I eagerly scurry to my next task. I seek no recognition. That is not my place. I expect no accolades. The work is simple and coarse and badly done. I merely do the work. Silently. I quietly close my day. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I lie destitute. I do not allow anyone near, although I badly bleed. I refuse the offered blanket of protection and comfort; instead shivering on the cold slab. I try to scream but words dare not escape my chattering teeth. I grasp at wisps that float in the air before mine own eyes but never capture them. My feeble attempts at crawling only grow the blisters on my hands and knees. With scorn I stare through tangled hair at those who walk upright with companions at their elbows and fine colors adorning their brows. I wonder if I were to die how many would come to the funeral. I wonder if I would make a bigger impact in death than in this miserable existence. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am a leaf on the wind. I dance playfully amongst the streams. I tumble with ease and go with the flow. I am at peace with my surroundings, letting the natural course take me where it wills. I take action with inaction, in perfect wu wei. Even as harsh current blow or tumultuous eddies form I seamlessly glide without a care taking is all in stride. But I cannot control my fate. For all my illusions of flight, I am still falling. In my mind's eye.

In my mind's eye I am an automaton. Graceful in form, elegant in nature. With abilities and faculties akin to a god. But no life courses through the wires. Only cold algorithms sucking in data and spitting out efficiency. Day in and day out a facsimile moves about looking at risks and rewards. Taking the opportune move and shying away from the disastrous risks. Thoughts arise due to pre-wired routines. Emotional responses are triggered by specific thresholds. Life rolls around me, but inside the gears click and the gyros whirl at optimum. In my mind's eye.

I open my eyes. I am standing in front of a mirror.

I see a tangle of inconsistencies. I see rough hewn edges. I see symmetry and clean lines. I see grand faith eagerly awaiting. I see meek humility hiding its face. I discern carefully laid plans. I spy wild hopes. I foresee terrible tragedy. I recognize gashes and bruises. I gaze upon powerful muscle and tendon. I evaluate form and function. I perchance at something more. I see a human.

What do you see?