I was pretty young. Maybe eight or nine, and we were at an old amusement park in Santa Cruz, California.
My memory of this is really blurry. I do remember though that the rollercoaster had a wooden track painted deep red, the sea seemed really cold as I looked out along a pier, and I had a “corn dog” which is like a hot dog, that’s deep fried, jammed on a stick.
Pretty sure I chased that with fairy-floss.
I do remember one other thing though.
There was a house of mirrors.
I remember going inside, and it was the classic room with mirrors everywhere, so you couldn’t tell where you were (except you could, if you paid attention to the edges – but it was still fun).
You’d walk forwards, and you’d see versions of yourself everywhere. Big, small, bouncing all over the place.
You know you can get out, but it’s almost tempting to bask in the “lostness” of it all and get a little worked up.
It’s kind of addictive.
Sometimes we find ourselves in a self-reflecting house of mirrors. It’s like someone constructs one around us while we’re figuring something out in our notebook.
The mirrors draw us in. We dive deep into our weaknesses, our strengths, reflecting on how we can be better.
All important stuff perhaps.
But not so important that it’s worth getting stuck staring at the mirrors.
If we get hooked on staring at reflections of ourselves rather than just looking down at the edges that will actually help us get the hell out of there, then we really can get stuck.
Nothing wrong with some reflection, but there’s a vast universe of opportunity out there that’s waiting for our attention as well.
