Originally written in 2018, revisited in 2025
This morning, as I passed a mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself — something I’ve done countless times without much thought. But this time, something stopped me. I paused, turned back, and looked again.
“Who’s this?” I wondered.
For a quiet moment, I simply stood there, noticing the subtle shifts that time had etched into my face. It wasn’t sadness exactly — more a gentle surprise at realizing that what I knew would happen had, in fact, begun. The smoothness of youth softening into age. The theoretical truth becoming real and intimate.
And yet — as I lingered, I smiled.
A simple, genuine smile. And just like that, something inside softened.
A smile, I realized again, is the most natural form of self-compassion. It changes everything — the face, yes, but also the inner landscape. A smile opens a door through which lightness, connection, and even tenderness can flow.
It’s astonishing how such a small gesture can shift our entire experience.
Try it: when you’re out in the world — on the bus, in line, walking down the street — meet someone’s eyes and smile. Just for a moment longer than usual. Watch what happens. Often, you’ll see something unfold: the hard edges soften, the distance between you disappears. You don’t need to know their name or story; for that instant, you recognize each other’s shared humanity.
Over the years, I’ve returned to this simple practice — smiling as a way of remembering connection. And also as a practice of mindfulness and compassion. When I meet my reflection now, I try to do so with kindness. To see the changing face not as loss, but as a record of living.
Because inside, the essence of being alive — that spark of awareness — remains untouched.
So, I keep smiling. For myself, for others, for the simple joy of remembering that we are all walking each other home.
And if you ever forget, the mirror is a good place to begin again.
“Even smiling at another person, which takes very little effort — for that person who receives it, it can mean an immense amount.”
— James Doty, On Being with Krista Tippett
Seven years later…
When I first wrote these words, I didn’t yet know how deeply they would weave themselves into my work. Today, as an MBSR teacher, I see again and again how the smallest gestures — a breath, a smile, a moment of presence — can transform the way we relate to ourselves and to one another.
What began as a reflection in the mirror has become a lifelong practice: learning, again and again, to meet each moment — and each face — with kindness.