Mirror, Mirror
From the book Parables for Personal Growth by Dr. Melinda Reinicke
She was born into a dark and war-torn land; the youngest child and only daughter of the king and queen. Because of the battles, her father and older brothers spent little time in the castle.
At the outset of the wars, they had thought themselves sure to defeat the sorcerer and his army. But, one by one, over the years, allies in neighboring kingdoms fell until this one land was left standing alone, a small and withering enclave in the midst of the sorcerer’s conquered domains.
One last hope remained. There were rumors of a Great King far to the north with might far greater than the sorcerer’s. When the princess was nearly fifteen, envoys were sent to plead for help. The besieged kingdom waited with heavy hearts.
Would the disguised envoys find safe passage through enemy occupied lands? Why should this Great King release knights to their aid when they had no alliance? For that matter, did the Great King really exist or was he the fabricated hope of all those suffering under the conqueror’s oppression?
The sorcerer’s dark power kept the sky continually overcast, shrouding all with chill and dread. No radiant sunlight had warmed the land for years. The nights were black because the thick clouds smothered any moonlight.
In the cover of this darkness one night, a band of misshapen gnomes climbed silently from the depths beneath the castle cisterns and crept unseen into the chambers of the sleeping princess. She awoke with a start to find small bodies like rats clamoring onto her bed. Though she opened her mouth to scream, only the whisper of a cry escaped and her body seemed frozen in terror.
“Gnome got your tongue?” teased one of the intruders, and the rest cackled and wriggled gleefully around her. “You can’t betray us, because you’re one of us, a changeling we switched with the real princess in infancy. So, be thankful to us for your lofty state and remember whence you came!”
“Look how big my little girl has grown,” wheezed one leering hag. “We boiled the real baby princess and gave you the broth to make you human sized, but you’re still one of us.”
Finding her voice and strength at last, the princess screamed aloud and leaped from her bed to run for her mother’s room. Guards were sent at once to the princess’ chambers, but they found no trace of any intruders.
“You’ve had a nightmare, that is all,” the queen reassured her daughter and held her close.
The next morning, the princess went to her mirror as usual to brush her hair and noticed for the first time how bulbous her nose was. Indeed, the longer she looked the more she realized that it was quite unsightly, large and pug, like a pig’s. And her eyes! How beady they were, set deep above her wide cheek bones. She fell to the floor crying in anguish, for she knew then that her midnight visitors were no dream and that their words were true. All that day she stayed in her room weeping and would see no one. At eventide she fell asleep, heartsick and exhausted, only to be awakened once more by the grotesque band of wriggling gnomes.
“You’re one of us!” they sang hoarsely, dancing about her chambers wildly. “Call the guards on us once more, and we’ll tell your heritage to all the castle!” Pilfering through her belongings, they wreaked havoc in the room until dawn, when they crept back to their underground abode, taking whatever they fancied. The smell of their putrid little bodies lingered in the room long after their departure. Each night the princess suffered their harassment, and during the days she kept to herself, eating little of the food concerned servants brought. The leftovers were bandied about by the raucous gnomes during their nightly visitations. Tossing the food among themselves as they belched and ate, the gnomes had a great feast.
Then they regularly brought out the mirror which the princess had hidden because she could not bear to look at herself. Pulling the reluctant princess to stand before it, they reveled in pointing out every gnome-like aspect of her features.
“Stop, stop!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “Stop, stop,” they mimicked her plea with relish, for they knew what the princess did not: the image she saw was untrue. On their first visit, before awakening the princess, the gnomes had enchanted her mirror to reflect a horrible visage so that she would believe their terrible lies.
On her fifteenth birthday there was to be a banquet and celebration held in her honor. Although the princess begged her mother to cancel the festivities, the queen would not hear of it.
“You have been ill in your room too long, my child,” said the queen. “A celebration in these bleak times will do us all good.”
“How can you be so cruel to me?” the princess protested angrily.
“What are you talking about?” the queen asked in disbelief. “It is unbearable to move among people and know that they either pity me or make light of me out of hearing.”
“Why would anyone pity or make light of you?”
“Because I am ugly!”
“Nonsense,” said the queen, cupping the princess’ face in her hands. “You are beautiful.”
In that moment, the princess decided that the queen must be blinded by misplaced maternal love. While thankful for her devotion, the daughter nonetheless thought the woman a kind-hearted fool. “She would not look on me so graciously if she knew the truth of my parentage,” grieved the princess.
At the birthday celebration, the princess wore her hair long and hanging down on either side to cover her face as much as possible. Keeping her chin tucked, she peered out from under her locks only when necessary and avoided the humiliation of meeting anyone’s eyes. She had no desire to see the false kindness there, the manufactured pleasantness extended only because of her royal station.
While her father could not leave the battle lines, two of her brothers came home for a rest along with a handful of other weary knights. A strained mirth filled the banquet hall, as if all attending wondered whether it would be their last gathering. But the playing of lutes and horns encouraged the guests to dance in a circle with hands linked in the air.
“Lovely lady?” a friend of her brother inquired, inviting her to dance with him. She had long thought him the kindest and most handsome knight ever, but now was cut to the quick by his callous treatment. How dare he mock her before the people! She felt her face redden with shame at the imagined snickers that his charity would elicit from the guests.
“No,” she mumbled and drew back, staring at the floor until she saw his feet leave. Another pair of boots approached.
“Dance with me, Princess,” the man bellowed gregariously. She recognized his voice at once. It was the belligerent son of one of her father’s dukes. She had always avoided his uncomely advances.
“No,” she mumbled once again, but he grabbed her hand and dragged her into the circle. When the dance was over he stayed by her side and, for once, she was thankful for his incessant boasting, mostly about his supposed feats in battle. For when anyone joined them she was protected from conversation.
After some time, her brother pulled her aside. “Why are you encouraging him, little sister?”
“And why shouldn’t I?” she replied testily.
“Because he is a dolt.”
“I’m fifteen now. I shall choose my own suitors, thank you.” With that she returned to the loud knight and placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
Suddenly a herald from the front lines burst into the room, his clothes spattered with mud from his hasty journey. Worry lining her face, the queen rose slowly from the royal dais overlooking the hall.
“My Queen, Lords and Ladies.” The messenger bowed low before the dais. “We have heard news. A great army is moving in the north against the sorcerer!”
In the crowd, a murmur of shocked disbelief became a joyful cheer.
Over the following months, news came to them of the advancing army’s victories. Was it the Great King? All they knew was that the attacking forces were readily routing the sorcerer’s troops and might reach their city before the year’s end. While the sky over their land remained overcast, the clouds began to separate. Here and there, for the first time in years, the sun broke through in glorious shafts of light. Alone in her chambers, the princess watched the display in awe. Before her eyes, a sunbeam glided through her window and struck the cast-aside mirror. Dust floating in the beam sparkled gold and silver as the princess reached out to pass her hand through the gossamer light. As she moved, the princess caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gasped. The face was no longer that of a gnome, but the contours of her own true appearance, both familiar and new at the same time. Happy tears and laughter broke forth from the face she watched in the mirror. Unable to contain herself, she danced joyfully in the light of the sunbeam.
“It was enchanted!” she shouted. “The gnomes must have bewitched my mirror, but now I know the truth! Everything they said was a lie!”
She swept her hair upward and secured the tresses with ivory combs. Then, she sent word to the loud son of the duke excusing herself from a riding engagement previously made. “No more of him,” she announced to herself.
That night she intentionally suffered the grotesque visitation of the gnomes without a word about her discovery. Then as dawn and their departure neared, she begged them to leave, knowing full well by now that, just to vex her, they always did the opposite of any request.
“Leave? Leave! You want us to leave!” badgered one disheveled gnome and fanned the others into frenzied rollicking.
“Stay away from me,” she pled purposefully, as she backed toward the shuttered windows which had closed out the night air. The gnomes rudely crowded around her, hissing and sneering. Turning as if to hide her face against the shutters, the princess peered through a crack in the wood to see the rim of the rising sun not yet enveloped by the waiting canopy of broken clouds. Her quick hands threw open the shutters, and she stood back to let the sunlight flood her motley guests.
With unholy shrieks, they fell to the stone floor in convulsions and withered like so many pieces of dried fruit. She put her hands to her ears to shut out the last of the tormented cries, for, despite all their wickedness, she regretted their pain. The shrunken bodies, reduced to dry papery wisps, were caught up in a gust of wind like autumn leaves. They whirled into the air and began to sparkle in the sunlight. To the amazement of the princess, they suddenly blossomed into delicate fairies with translucent wings. Laughing and crying with joy, the sound from them was like the chiming of tiny crystal bells.
“Thank you! Thank you!” one cried out, floating on the morning breeze. “You’ve freed us from the sorcerer’s spell. Forgive us, Princess. In our accursed state, we spread our misery to all we found. We were, to you, most unkind of all. Forgive us, for we, too, had forgotten our true nature.”
As the breeze stirred again, they glided through the open window. The soft wind fluffed the princess’ hair gently, and with happy wonderment, she watched the fairies fly away.
Personal Reflections on Mirror, Parts of the parable that touched me are…
When I read these parts I felt…
Similar situations in my life are…
Self-Reflection: How do I see myself?: Use the three mirrors below to get a clearer picture of who you are. Jot down whatever comes quickly to mind. Use words or short phrases to describe your intelligence, skills, personality, physical appearance.
How I See Myself How Critical People How Positive People
Positives and See Me See Me
Negatives
Is my view of myself closer to: (check one)
___ The critical mirror
___ The positive mirror
___ A mix of both
Critical Mirror: Is anything here an actual character defect that you need to work on? (Mark an “x” by it.)
What is unfounded or unfair in this mirror? Draw a line through it.
Positive Mirror: A poor self-concept will discount positive feedback from others with thoughts such as, “If they really knew me…” or “They’re just being nice, but don’t really mean it…” Circle each one of the good things about you in your positive mirror. As you do so, say each one out loud, completing the sentence, “I’m so glad I’m…”