It’s not always a given that people are aware of their shortcomings. Even if we become humble enough to know that we’re far from being perfect, there are always flaws that are invisible to us. Contrary to what would be assumed, their invisibility isn’t a comment on their magnitude, and what I mean by that is; you’d think that you’ll be able to identify big, glaring and obvious weaknesses and maybe only the small ones would escape detection; but that’s not always the case because it is possible to be completely oblivious to what is crystal clear and plain to others.

My observation isn’t exactly novel; many have already pointed this out. For instance, there’s this common (and insightful) joke that suggests that if you think your ten-years-ago self was stupid, then most probably your current self is equally stupid — as it will eventually become apparent to you ten years from now. Think also of old age regret and be amazed by the fact that what someone can be confident and proud of in the present might become a subject of shame when they age.

This very fact was dramatized a while back in the episode titled “Spoiler Alert” from the TV Series “How I Met Your Mother” (an episode which, interestingly enough, has its own Wikipedia page). Ted, a young bachelor, thinks he’s going out with a ‘perfect’ girl (Cathy), but is not happy when his friends point out what they thought to be an obvious and unconcealed annoyance about Cathy: she just can’t stop talking. Ted somehow couldn’t see it until his friends told him and now he can’t stand Cathy anymore.

Isn’t it strange that we’re not completely transparent to ourselves? Just the other day with my friends, we were wondering why people go to therapists, when said therapists only dig to find answers inside the patient — this might not be entirely how therapy works in reality, but that’s how we painted it as we joked about it. We realized — and, I think, rightly — that it requires a kind of skill that we don’t always have to really see ourselves clearly.

It then became evident to me that what we see when we look in the mirror isn’t a clear and crisp picture of who we really are; we might see an illusion, a distortion, an aspiration or an ideal — none of which is the unpolished and unembellished reality we are not courageous enough to see, or simply blind to. We might even be able to see a truer version of ourselves, but most times with blurry edges.

In my previous article, I wrote about the story of Orual (and her ugliness) from what is my current favorite novel “Till we have Faces” by C.S.Lewis. It’s worth mentioning that throughout the entire novel, she is the narrator and we’re reading a memoir of her life, written when she was old. Eighty percent of it (forming Part I of the book) is a complaint that she had always wanted to articulate since she was young.

As she picks up the pen again to write Part II of her memoir, she said something of the process of writing itself and how it changed her:

What began the change was the very writing itself. Let no one lightly set about such a work. Memory, once waked, will play the tyrant… The past which I wrote down was not the past that I thought I had (all these years) been remembering. I did not… see clearly many things that I see now.

She began to see things (and herself) differently as she wrote them down. In fact what she thought was her story; her own understanding of her life as she was living it was so different from the truth. Upon seeing this striking contrast, she notes that the ‘[gods] used my own pen to probe my wound’. I give you this recommendation: Try writing for yourself; you’ll certainly be humbled.

Introspection (whether guided or not) clearly has some benefits. It’s this “labor of sifting and sorting, separating motive from motive and both from pretext” that can open up a new outlook on life — and on self. If done carefully and well, there’s no telling the good things that could come out of it. Unfortunately, introspection through writing was not enough for Orual; it was only the beginning of the change she desperately needed and I believe it’s insufficient for us as well.

In the second part of the story, Orual recounts events that happened after diligently retelling her past from since she was young. These events include (and are not limited to) marvelous visions (or was it dreams?) that the ‘gods’ gave her. The visions were powerful and they were paradigm shifting. Though the visions were not mainly about herself, they had the capacity (strangely enough) to show her who she really was. It’s as though she, for the first time in her life, saw her true self in a mirror. In fact, in one of her visions, a somewhat magical mirror is held up in front of her eyes and what she saw was unpleasant and totally unexpected to herself — and to us, the readers.

Let’s remember that she was the queen of Glome! She was anything but uncultured nor unsophisticated enough not to be ‘self-aware’. Orual was very intelligent and she had plenty of resources at her disposal and she was definitely surrounded by the smartest people in the land who would have advised/educated her about her blind spots. Isn’t this already enough to say that the best and the brightest friends or hired specialists have limits in terms of sharpening our view of our selves? Sometimes (and more often than not) the people that most shape our worldview are the ones with the power to truly distort it, rather than clarify and sharpen our vision. It’s not because of their evil intentions (although that can also be the case), but rather it’s in spite of their good intentions. Even when they do mean well, their vision just isn’t necessarily better than ours.

Looking back at Orual’s visions/dreams, I reckoned that there’s something which upon first thought appears absurd: one must look away to be able to see oneself. Introspection can illuminate, but it is not the silver bullet we’re searching for. In fact, some of Orual’s conclusions about herself were not only wrong, but they were dark, depressing and paralyzing. Introspection, even if guided, sometimes illuminates, but only dimly. Other times, not only does introspection obscure the truth, but it also brings along toxic dark clouds over us. It turns out that what we need is exactly what Orual needed: more than a few dim lights here and there, but the blazing glory of divine revelation.

To be fair to Lewis’ story, the divine visions that Orual received were not orchestrated so that she gets to see herself; seeing herself was a means to a bigger goal. Likewise, for us, the entire purpose of divine revelation isn’t for our private self-knowledge; it is much more grand. In any case, without it, we won’t be able to truly see ourselves. No one can rightly discern his own motives, it’s only through the ‘alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword’ Word of God that we’re able to ‘judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart’ (Hebrews 4:12). It is sharp enough to cut through layers of pretense and pretext and trauma and pain — no matter how thick or how many. Nothing can be hidden, all is “naked and exposed”.

His word is the mirror that you and I need; it is the mirror without which no one would be able to see oneself clearly (James 1:23-24).