Every Thought You Polish Becomes Your Mirror

This year, my birthday felt a little different.

Because of a medical condition called aspiration, I live with a disability that makes swallowing difficult. Anything I eat risks going into my lungs instead of my stomach, so I depend on a tube attached to my stomach to take in liquid food like milk. I can’t eat the way others do, no birthday cake, no shared meals, only a quiet awareness of what can no longer be.

At first, my mind clung to the cake, its scent, its texture, the memory of its significance on birthday occasion. I don’t even like cake that much, nor do I crave its taste. But the thought of not being able to do something so simple, so ordinary, weighed on me. The more I focused on it, the heavier my heart became. The mirror of my mind reflected only disappointment and quiet sadness.

But then, as I emerged from meditation, I remembered the Buddha’s teaching on Right Concentration, one of the steps on the Noble Eightfold Path, and why meditation holds such deep importance. Whatever we place our attention on, we nourish. Like polishing a mirror, our thoughts begin to reflect what we cling to most. If my attention stayed fixed on what was missing, I would only keep polishing the image of my own suffering.

It reminded me of what Richard said to Liz in Eat, Pray, Love: “You have to learn to select your thoughts the same way you select your clothes every day. Now that’s a power you can cultivate.”

To reach mental clarity, we are encouraged to observe rather than be swept away. When we become fixated on a single thought, it naturally gives rise to another, and soon we find ourselves caught in its loop. The practice, then, is to remain as the observer, to let thoughts come and go without stepping into their stream. As my teacher often reminds me, “When you notice yourself thinking, simply note it — thinking.” That gentle awareness is what brings the mind back to stillness.

So, I gently shifted my focus, not to the cake I couldn’t eat, but to the breath I could still feel. To the body that, despite its limitations, continues to carry me through this life. To the tube that, although inconvenient, allows me to keep living and to use this body to practice the Dharma. To the awareness that, even in stillness, continues to awaken.

In that shift, something softened. The sadness dissolved into a quiet gratitude. I realised that Right Concentration isn’t just about meditation on a cushion; it’s about learning where to put your attention onto. When we focus on what we don't have, the mirror reflects emptiness. When we focus on presence, the mirror reveals equanimity.

If we use our attention only to stare at the surface to seek beauty, pleasure, or perfection then the mirror becomes a tool of vanity. But if we look deeper, with awareness and compassion, the mirror becomes a teacher. It shows us that every thought, every feeling, is simply a reflection of where we choose to rest the mind. The reflection may look like you, but the mirror itself holds no emotion. It only shows what your mind projects upon it.

Maybe it starts as a plain, dull and unremarkable piece of junk, but with the right focus and attention, even what seems like a piece of junk can be polished into a mirror, one that shines brightly, reflecting the clarity and steadiness of the mind that shaped it.

So today, even without the cake on my birthday, I celebrate being here, breathing, aware, and still able to practice. Because anything you polish with attention will become a mirror, and I’d rather let mine reflect stillness, gratitude, and the quiet joy of being alive. 

Happy Birthday to my awareness, to the focus on what truly matters in my life, the simple and sacred act of breathing. Today, I celebrate not just the day I was born, but the precious opportunity to awaken again and again with each mindful breath.