It is a relief to begin to see through the facade of my identifications with my name, my stories, my history, and my interpretations. Not that they are irreal, or entirely undesirable — rather, the severity with which I identified with them was harmful and costly. A lighter touch is at once more graceful and more efficacious. In any case, I can see that the self is akin to a projective mirror with two sides. One faces the world, and projects / reflects the external to the external. The other faces inward, and projects / reflects the self to the self. But there is a hand holding this strange mirror / shield / projector. What a magnificent hand it is.