The Light of Imperfection and the Two Faces of the Mirror

A moments ago, sitting by the window and gazing out through the grand glass panes of my room overlooking the Golden Horn, without paper or pen in hand, what verses had I composed in my mind, what full pages had I written while talking to myself! Now I wonder where to begin, which of those thoughts to pour onto the lines. Being fertile and creative is a wonderful sensation; yet running out of raw material or experiencing a sudden power outage right in the midst of creation... It feels so much like the whimsical irony of this worldly existence.

And yet, as I gazed through the glass and those colorful beams of light poured into my eyes and settled into my consciousness, I felt as if I had shrunk like Alice in Wonderland, letting myself slip down the rabbit hole. Guided by the cat, I was already chasing conversations with speaking trees.

Then, all of a sudden, I realized I could not see clearly into the distance. The moment I put on my glasses, everything magnified in an instant; the fairy-tale beams of light scattering in sweet harmony were abruptly replaced by harsh LED lights and the cold, towering billboards of gigantic concrete buildings.

"Yet, my visual imperfection had opened such a beautiful door for me. Perhaps from there I could have reached many graceful paths and opened new gateways for others. Life, I suppose, is just like this: behind what we deem an imperfection lies a brand-new vantage point, an entirely different depth."

Contrary to those who argue that God is absolute perfection, perhaps a delicate paradox resides within perfection itself. While humanity has expressed a singular concept of the Divine through myriad languages and faiths throughout ages, how can it claim it all flows from the exact same source? The Divine is one, yes; yet the moment you look upon it, it becomes your gaze. It transforms into a mirror of your society, your necessities, or your voids.

To me, God is like a beam of light so radiant that it dazzles our eyes when we look, yet we cannot bring ourselves to look away. Because of this, we have devised countless ways to behold it: sometimes shielding our eyes with our hands—where the light filtered through our fingers becomes our guide—and sometimes seeking refuge behind other worldly objects. The paradox of perfection begins right here: an omnipotent power whose presence finds its realization only through the perception of its creations...

Without mirrors, how could light ever behold its own purity? Prayer, in essence, is humanity’s striving to fathom God and the existence He brought forth.

In this realm, we look into mirrors to decipher ourselves. Yet it matters how many people you see when you look into the glass. At times, I find myself questioning Rumi; people often say, "To find oneself, one must first get lost." Shams became a path for him, illuminated his soul; and Rumi narrated this through countless verses, solely through his own emotions and his own eyes. Yet there was also the perspective of Shams; there were the imperfections Shams witnessed, the Rumi that existed in Shams's mind. We were never able to balance them equally. And so, Shams found himself cast into that blind, silent well.

If you are to be a mirror to someone, you must reflect not only their radiance, but their darkness as well. You must be willing to descend into blind wells with them, to seek them out and feel their presence in the dark. A human being is not an ornamental tree to be pruned the moment it fails to bear leaves or turns slightly pale.

Human beings are human precisely through their imperfections; and perhaps the most precious gift of existence is this very flawed beauty.

April 17, 2021 — The Pera Palace Roof