I just looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, which I rarely do. Looking at myself while shaving is an entirely different matter, of course. Anyhow, what do I see? To begin with, I see my father. The first time I saw him while looking at myself in the mirror was many years ago, but the likeness is ever more striking. I am vanishing, as it were, and he is coming forth with growing conviction. Although he ended up annihilated by senile dementia, I do not seem to be as lucky. Like my mother, I seem to be destined to be in full control of my mind till my last breath. Stilling of my mind is thus in my own hands. With Patanjali’s able help, I may well get there sooner or later. Returning to my face, what else do I see? Again and again, I am stunned by my ugliness, I must admit. The gray hair, the unruly eyebrows, the crumpling skin, the red blotches caused by psoriasis on both cheeks and the middle of the forehead, the drooping neck under my chin… But my eyes comfort me nonetheless. I do not appear eager, impatient, befuddled, hungry, jealous, brash, worried, proud, hopeful, anxious, angry, conceited, hateful, bullish, or lascivious. There is peace in those eyes. Real peace. Whence a trace of a smile at the corners of my mouth. The bathroom mirror would never lie to such a peaceful man, I dare to hope.

Addendum (January 15, 2019)

Once upon a time, when I was much younger, I ruminated about my dead eyes, which sometimes appeared beyond age, beyond time (“Your Eyes,” July 13, 1978). Their coldness scared people, or so I felt back then. But things have changed, at least according to this piece. Now there is peace in my eyes, I reckon. I cannot but wonder about the change of my own perception after thirty-seven years, though. Actually, it is forty-one year by the time this addendum has ingratiated itself into the story. Indeed, is there not some connection between dead, cold, and peaceful eyes? Perhaps there were some traces of real peace in my eyes even when I was only thirty-two years of age? Looking back, I do not remember ever appearing eager, impatient, befuddled, hungry, jealous, brash, worried, proud, hopeful, anxious, angry, conceited, hateful, bullish, or lascivious, either. I will thus provisionally conclude that a change of my perception is behind this incongruity. Traces of peace must have been there even four decades ago. Phew!