Monday Meditation
The Mirror of Contemplation
Monday Meditation: The Mirror of Contemplation
“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” —Rumi
Beloveds, we live in an age of noise. The headlines shout, the feeds scroll endlessly, and the political machine grinds on with the clamor of power. In such a moment, we are tempted to believe that the work of resistance is only loud: marching, shouting, voting, organizing. And yes, all of these are needed. But there is another practice that empire would rather we forget—contemplation.
Tezcat, the smoking mirror, reminds us that true sight requires us to stop and look into the depths of ourselves, even when the reflection is clouded. The mirror is not just polished glass; it is obsidian, dark and infinite, showing us the truth behind the illusions. To contemplate is to sit before the mirror, to breathe with the wound, to allow silence to teach us what the world’s shouting cannot.
Contemplation is not retreat from the struggle. It is the grounding that makes struggle possible. It keeps us from being devoured by the very frenzy we resist. In stillness, we remember that our bodies are not machines for empire to grind down. In silence, we recover the horizon of another possible world.
Right now, when the political order thrives on our distraction and despair, contemplation is resistance. To pause is to say: I am not consumed by your urgency. To breathe is to declare: my life is not defined by your timelines. To gaze into the smoking mirror is to learn the practice of seeing otherwise—of perceiving futures that empire cannot imagine.
This week, I invite you to make a small ritual of contemplation. Light a candle, take three breaths, and look into the mirror of your own heart. Ask: What am I being called to notice beneath the noise? What truth flickers in the shadows? Where is the horizon of joy and justice calling me to turn?
Contemplation is how we water the roots of our collective becoming. Without it, resistance becomes reaction. With it, resistance becomes song.
Breathe in the smoke.
Breathe out the illusion.
See the wound.
See the light pouring through.
Hold the silence like a stone in your palm.
Let the mirror reveal what empire hides.
You are more than the noise.
You are more than the urgency.
You are horizon opening.
You are breath returning.
Exhale, beloveds.
Exhale into becoming.
In the stillness, I see clearly. In the silence, I become whole.