An older man, with an air of superiority, left his opulent, gilded house and strolled into a bustling marketplace surrounded by his fawning, obedient minions. He proudly carried a polished, reflective, framed glass. His head held high, he admired his own reflection as he weaved through the crowd. The crowd could see him, but he could only see himself, and he was thoroughly pleased. He barely noticed those on either side of him as his minions pushed them aside out of his view. When he did catch a fleeting glimpse, he compared himself to them—the merchants, the homeless, the travelers, the artists, and the minorities—with his arrogance, ignorance, and bombast on full display, he declared, “I am far superior to them all, and they should be forbidden from saying otherwise.”
But as the day wore on, dust gathered on the glass. His reflection grew dim and distorted. He frowned, exclaimed how unfair and unacceptable the conditions were. He lifted his feeble arm and wiped it with his soiled sleeve. Raising it again, he loudly demanded that the crowd see him as he saw himself, even through the grime. Some ignored him, some laughed, and the braver, at great peril, mocked him. His anger rose, and his threats of retaliation grew robust and offensive.
At last, an old immigrant woman left the row of unpicked crops and approached him, offering nothing but silence in her weary eyes. With her weathered hands, she took the glass gently from his manicured fingers, turned it around, and asked, “What do you see now?” The mirrored glass, once a tool for self-admiration, now became a symbol of understanding and empathy as he viewed the world rather than himself.
The old man was initially taken aback but remained self-absorbed. In the mirror was no longer his own face, but the faces of the people around him—each one bearing burdens, scars, joys, and pride of their own which he had never truly seen or bothered to comprehend.
The old woman’s voice was a gentle, refreshing breeze: “The glass is not for self-worship but for understanding. Turn it outward and you’ll see the truth: you are not the center, only a small part. Your ego makes the glass a prison; humility makes it a window.” Her words carried a profound truth that seemed to resonate in the old man’s heart.
The old man, humbled by her wisdom, lowered his head. For the first time, the marketplace seemed vast and vibrant, filled not just with his own reflection but with the dreams of real people. He left the market, dusty and disheveled, and a question lingered for all who watched: Will he remember what the mirror revealed, or will he brush away the dust of human humility and return to the prison of his own reflection? As the old woman returned to the field, she turned and said: “We should all look into our own reflective glass and ask ourselves, how much of him are we?” #NeverFearTheDream
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