copyright Bela Johnson, published in The Maine Eagle, August 2000

To know the true nature of another requires a reflective process that few in our society fully honor. To know ourselves requires the same process. What is reflection and how does it deepen our understanding of self and others? We are often so busy that we forget that life moves in a cyclical manner. Like the ebb and flow of the tides, we find balance and harmony when we allow ourselves to feel our body's need for rest and reflection and subsequently honor it by scheduling in some downtime, if that's what it takes.

Most of us have been raised in the scientific, intellectual paradigm so prominent in Western culture. And science, perhaps to its own discredit, has largely been based on strict axioms or unquestioned "facts" since the time of Descartes. Yet the natural world and our relationships with and within it cannot be reduced or quantified quite so succinctly. Without reflection, how can we adequately summarize the ongoing feelings and sensations we derive from our encounters with the natural world and with one another? How can we fully describe the spontaneous tears that flow when we see an awesome sunset, watch an eagle soar or hear a moving symphony? Can we really capture in a few words the emotions felt when gazing into the eyes of a newborn infant or while held in the embrace of a lover?

All the experiences which deeply move us may have much to teach us if we give ourselves time to reflect on them, whether we categorize these experiences as "good" or "bad." We create a clearer understanding of who we are as individuals, partners, friends, members of our communities. Yet when we repeatedly hear such phrases as "don't think too much" and "idle hands are the Devil's work," we can appreciate how reflection has taken a back seat in our culture. If we can reclaim reflection as a nonjudgmental tool for self awareness, simply accepting all we feel as valid and useful in our experience of life, we start to unveil some of the mystery that can otherwise make us feel alienated from ourselves as well as others. For we are all in this world together, having the same human experience.

Often from a young age, we are taught by parents, teachers and even peers how to behave in the world. Uniqueness is threatening to those attempting to define themselves in uncertain circumstances. Quiet, reflective children are often ostracized and sometimes even antagonized. Depending on the support they receive at home, these young ones may build stronger character by standing up for who they are or seek acceptance by becoming more outwardly social (or both!). Neither is right or wrong. Yet in our media-driven culture which sets narrow standards of acceptability, standing by one's need for a balance between activity and reflection may well become increasingly difficult. As we become less in tune with our own inner desires, years may go by while the song our soul would sing, that song with lyrics only we can know, may rest unsung in our hearts and throats. In addition, we may raise our own children, helping them fit into the same restrictive cultural stereotypes we ourselves have been creatively and spiritually stunted by. Further, having reflected on these seemingly fleeting days of our lives, how can we now perceive the act of reflection with any positive regard? Hasn't this process simply fostered regret, and who wants to bring up the pain of the past? It can all feel pretty overwhelming.

Yet the type of reflection I am suggesting here is a nonjudgmental process whereby we are able to acknowledge that all we have experienced in life has brought us to this point. No matter our life experiences, we have learned much. Many of the things we have learned give us resources to enhance our lives now, as well as the lives of others. Again we are reminded that we live in a culture that devalues the very young as well as our elders. Yet both these groups in our society have much to offer. The very young possess the energy, innocence and openness to spontaneously engage in the creative process. Reflecting on them can be a pure source of inspiration as we begin to acknowledge, then explore, our need to reengage our own neglected creativity. Our elders meanwhile possess years of experience from which we might greatly benefit. When we still our voices, we interrupt the continuity of learning that is possible when we value the insights gained through our own past reflection, or the reflections of those whose life paths precede ours or differ from our own. Without this reflective wisdom, we negate our living history without which our lives as human beings can surely seem doubly difficult.