Reflection
I am on a plane.
On a plane, there isn’t much to do when you take off but look out the window, and contemplate the world as it shrinks below.
Mostly I thought about how I could be doing this assignment as I looked out the window, so perhaps that took away from some of the more meaningful contemplation.
Reflection.
I can see some of my reflection in the window, but that is not the sort of reflection we speak of in this context.
Although, it is a bit odd that the more light inside, the more you see a reflection than what is happening on the other side of the glass. I know this because of countless hours looking out and into a car window at night, but also because now that the person next to me has turned on their light, there is a near replication of their textbook in the window, and the outside has all but disappeared. Were it not for the shaking and obnoxiously loud white noise that I can hear through my headphones, one could almost forget you were nearly 4,000 feet in the air. Well, that number could be wrong. It sounds wrong.
I was trying to drown out the noise with more noise in my headphones.
I’ve been informed it’s more like 37,000 feet. That makes so much more sense.
The point of this is that though you look through the windows of your eyes a majority of the time, the more you become aware of your mind inside, the less you see outwardly. The best example I can think of is a few weeks ago, when I was thinking of where my next class was, laying out the plan of the building. Because of this I didn’t see my friend until he’d said my name and was five feet in front of me.
Or perhaps I am simply not the best multitasker.
But, my metaphor.
When you write, a similar phenomenon occurs to that of the light going on behind the windows of your eyes. You think about what you’re writing, you think about your own experiences that shaped your writing, even if you’re not writing a memoir. See previous statement about my superb observation skills.
Anything you ever write will be a reflection of yourself.
Historical essay, lab report, poem, analysis of an article, a sticky note reminding yourself to do laundry.
This.
Why, you may ask?
I will try to explain, though it is a rather abstract concept.
One of those things that just makes sense, like your morning routine, or why you are infatuated with a certain type of food.
Anything you ever write will be a reflection of yourself.
Because you write it, it is written by you, and you do not write with anyone’s mind but your own.
You may imitate, everyone imitates, but it will never be a replica.
As was previously hinted at, your experiences will shape how you write.
I have a theory that people that come from suburbs and go through the same curriculum together, given that no major event shakes the foundation of their lives, will produce approimately the same writing. Obviously I could be wrong, but it seems to me that when you shove everyone through the same mould they all come out about the same, unless that person either avoids the process altogether (hello yes that would be me), or they are purposefully exposed to things outside of the prescribed curriculum.
Thus this winding and twisting road of mismatched tones within a single piece of writing.
Somehow, it is coherent, but that could just be me, the author, the creator, the sole perpetrator of this crime against the prescribed curriculum that has been drilled into so many heads.
My paragraphs are haphazard.
I began having caffeine at about this time. (Oh look, a reflection. Keep reading, it’ll make sense.)
And yet, this does not have the ring of a true poem, but rather of my thoughts in general.
In the end, isn’t that what a reflection should be?
Your own disjointed thoughts as they bump over what you’ve already done, existing both in the present and the past?
I can tell you that I’ve gone over this piece of writing at least three times, and shall continue to go over it at least five more times. That in itself is a form of reflection. It fits my description, which pleases me.
If there was a way to show you all the corrections I’ve made it would be a much more interesting showcase of what reflection looks like when applied to writing.
Upon reflection, there are almost always things you notice that could be improved. It is a part of human nature, I think, to want to improve. Stagnation chafes, and how else did we get to where we are today?
We do not settle. We improve. We innovate. We evolve.
Side note: That sounds like an excellent motto for something. Probably a technology company.
Continuing on.
As such, our writing does the same with each sweep through our thoughts.
There is a reason the first draft nearly never makes the cut.
Example: Perhaps for some reason I decided I hated this form of writing, and I was going to change it all. Keep some phrases, the meaningful ones, and scrap the rest. This would be the first draft that never saw the light of day. (Quite literally)
However, due to many circumstances and my own slight eccentricity, you get to see this rough version of thoughts not many think about.
It is a rare thing, to be able to revise one’s own thoughts after a reflection.
Behold. Appreciate. Imitate.
It will still be a piece all your own.
Reflect on that.
I have.
