My Life in Selfies
The past decade of my life has frequently been spent in isolation.
I’ve dated. I belong to groups. I go out and do things, always around about town.
But I haven’t really felt like I belonged — like I had a meaningful purpose. Until recently, I’ve mostly been emotionally intimate with my therapist (and that includes my time in support groups and sangha).
Who is this being — and what relationship does he have with this experience I have of being myself?
It’s not that I was withholding, or that I was being deliberately distant. It’s just that I’m an intellectual, and have a devil of a lot of internal experience that is nearly ineffable in conversation.
And the more time I’m alone, the more that builds up.
This has manifested in various ways, and one of them is a profusion of selfies.
Frequently, either my Google Photos or my Microsoft account will give me an “On this Day” notification, showing me what happened a couple years ago. Frequently, this message is garlanded with a thumbnail of Yours, Truly.
These come about when I’m alone, either to create an image for a social profile, to send an image in a text, or to post to a platform. In response, I receive a kind message or a few likes. Then, as I don’t tend to be great about cleaning house and deleting, the selfies remain.
When I was a kid, I used to look in the mirror a lot. (Still do. “I used to, but I still do, too."1) An ex once caught me doing this in my great-grandmother’s dining room, in which hung a large mirror covering about half of the West wall.
She teased, indicating narcissism. I got flustered.
If it was narcissism, then we might take a look at what narcissism (in the mythical sense of gazing into the pool) really is.
I’m convinced my motivation is not an indication that I find myself attractive. (I’ve never accepted my handsomeness until only recently.) Rather, I find that the gazing has much more to do with the miracle of consciousness.
Who is this being — and what relationship does he have with this experience I have of being myself?
Other animals react to reflections of themselves in all sorts of ways. On Instagram, I’ve seen bears attack and destroy the mirror. Birds sometimes spread out their plumage, and take an aggressive stance. Whoever you are, stay away from my chick.
I never felt aggressive toward the man in the mirror, but like the singer of that song, I’ve often appealed to him in order to attempt to make something better of myself.
The selfies, on the other hand, trigger pity. When I see them I think “this man is wasting his life.” I’m not wrong but, on the other hand, there is some want to communicate in the images’ genesis.
But what kind of communication is it? It’s not nothing, but it also feels shallow.
Now is the time when I’m transitioning my online writing toward more intentional production. My goal is to impress, to affect, maybe even to influence. I’d like to do this for businesses, politicians, artists — to try to express the nature of their work to attract others to it.
It’s a new game. And I’m ready for it.
More selfies to come.
I’m officially going to be living in Washburn, IA for the next month, exchanging chores for room and board while I build up a portfolio.
If there is anything you think I should research or write about, I’m all ears. My intention is to put in eight hours of work a day — four writing and designing, four researching and applying to jobs.
As I ascend to the upper floor I inhabit (one room a bedroom, the other an office), I am greeted by an icon of the Christ on the Cross. As many times as I can be mindful, I engage in the Orthodox technique of giving the sign three times, and praying the Glory Be. On the second turn, I prostrate, touching my forehead to the top step. I then pray the Jesus prayer thrice and kiss his feet. It’s a good practice.
From my Home to Yours, with all the Love in the World,
Aaron
Mitch Hedberg