What If We Had No Mirrors? A Reflection on Aging, Beauty, and Living Naturally

Yesterday, I saw myself in a way I hadn’t before. It was a sunny afternoon, and I was with my daughter—nearly 40 now, though I could still feel myself walking in her age. We were at a sprawling plant nursery, checking out with our treasures of green, when I looked up and caught a glimpse in a mirror near the counter.

There I was—me. But not the me I feel inside. Instead, a version touched by time, by sun, by the softness that aging brings. I stood there for a moment, surprised. Not saddened. Not shamed. Just… aware.

What If We Had No Mirrors?

It hit me: I’m almost 60. But I don’t believe in “aging” in the way society speaks of it. I believe in evolving. In learning. In living closer to the earth. I don’t wear makeup—not because I’m against it, but because I love the way nature feels on my skin. I love wind-swept hair, the kiss of sunshine, and the medicine of plants.

What would life be like if we had no mirrors?

If our reflection only came from rippling water, or from the way someone’s eyes lit up when we smiled? If we were reflected only by the kindness we gave, the presence we offered, and the energy we carried?

Would we worry so much about wrinkles or wild strands of hair? Would we still feel the need to cover, conceal, or enhance? Or would we simply be—unfiltered, untamed, and entirely enough?

Aging as Evolution, Not Decline

That moment reminded me: I want my reflection to be a thank you, not a judgment.

A recognition of how far I’ve come, of how deeply I’ve felt, and of how naturally I choose to live.

Mirrorless

Let the water be my mirror

Let the wind paint lines of grace

Let the sun write stories on my skin

And time slow down its pace

Let reflection come in ripples

Not in glass with harsh demands

Let me be revealed by presence

And not by culture’s hands

I’ll wear the earth with reverence

Let my wildness show through

For beauty is in living

And in living, I am true.

~ Kerri Elizabeth ~

The Power of Acceptance in Emotional Journeys

There comes a point in the journey where the heart softens—not from giving in, but from waking up. You stop trying to convince others to feel what you feel, to see what you see, or to meet you where you are. You begin to understand that everyone carries a different story, a different storm, a different kind of silence inside.

Emotions rise like tides, not to drown us, but to remind us we are moved by something deeper than logic. And just as the ocean does not ask the shore to change, we can allow others to have their waves, their rhythm, their expression—without losing our own.

Change doesn’t always come from words. Sometimes it comes from the quiet presence of someone who has chosen to live differently. To listen more. To judge less. To stay rooted in their own peace, even when the world around them trembles.

This is the practice:
To feel deeply,
To love without needing agreement,
To honor our path without forcing it upon others.

And So I Stayed

I let the wind speak louder than my need to be right,
And the silence hold space for what wasn’t mine to fix.
I watched the world spin its stories,
And chose to become still.

No need to correct, no urge to convert—
Only the pulse of truth
softly
beating
in my chest.

Let them feel.
Let them be.
And so I stayed—
Not to change them,
but to remain
changed.