Once upon a time, there was a woman named Moirae.  Moirae had magic eyes.  Whatever she gazed deeply upon, she would see all of its beauty all at once, every facet from side to side, past, present and future.  External beauty, inner beauty, the hidden and inexpressible beauty all impressed themselves upon her with every deep glance.

One day she met a man named Jon.  He was a tall and slender flower salesman with golden skin, soft eyes, and the warmest smile she had ever seen.

When Moirae told Jon how beautiful he was, Jon looked but did not see it.  Jon thought highly of himself, at least on the surface, but he was critical and afraid of his own true nature.  Because he did not see what Moirae described, her pronouncements of beauty seemed meaningless to him.

Moirae looked at Jon completely in love.  When Jon saw her looking at him this way, he thought, “She must not really see me.”

Frustrated, Moirae wandered into the forest and sat on a large stone on the hilltop.

“Dear universe,” Moirae said, “how do I get Jon to see what I see?”

The trees whispered, “Find the magic mirror.  Find the magic mirror.”

“Oh, of course,” she thought.  “Where do I find the magic mirror?”

“Travel down the hill and into the valley.  Follow the path of moss.”

At the bottom of the hill, through the woods along the path of moss, in the heart of the valley, she found a pond.  Thick trees with dark wine colored leaves hunched over its surface and made it black as night.  She glanced into the water.  The pond was a mirror.

Moirae ran to find Jon and brought him to the water.  She positioned him above its enchanting surface and asked him, “What do you see?”

Jon looked into the pond.  “What?  I don’t know.  I don’t see anything,” he said.  “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

Moirae sank in disappointment.  “Look harder,” she implored.

Jon tried again, humoring her.  “Okay, I still don’t see anything.  What is this about?”

Frustrated, she yelled, “You’re supposed to be looking at your own reflection!  You’re supposed to look into the pond and see you!”

She looked again into the still, black pond and realized that she was, in fact, looking at her own reflection.  You’re supposed to look into the pond and see you. The words reverberated in her mind, then it dawned on her.

“I am the magic mirror!”

She sat on the moss by the ferns under the mimosa tree.  “I can’t simply tell people what I see.  They don’t believe me,” she thought.  “And all the while, I am conveying something different with my very self, somehow.”

“Dear Universe, if I am a mirror, how do I reflect Jon’s beauty back to him?”

The trees whispered, “By seeing your own beauty.  By seeing your own beauty.”

“If I don’t see my own beauty,” she realized, “I can’t reflect the beauty of someone else.”  She never thought to gaze directly at herself.  Instead, she tried to see what others saw, but that reflection was for many years clouded by the dispositions of those looking at her, their irritation and angst, waning highs, and the disappointments that follow the search for perfect love.  Never look at yourself through the eyes of someone who does not see you clearly.

She focused on her own being and stared straight into it, with her own eyes.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.  “I am amazing.  As strong and magnificent as a majestic redwood.  As sweet as a feathery mimosa.  As nurturing as an expanse of life-giving rivers.  As wise and as sacred as a temple on a misty hill.”

Jon looked at her and finally saw himself.