From the Heart, Home

The Face

african ancient anonymous art
I have always loved observing body languages for as long as I can remember. This is my only weapon, besides my gut feeling, to distinguish right from wrong, truth from lies, real from fake, and knowing when to speak and when to shut up.
I wonder why we make things so complicated. We say a thing and mean another. We want to leave a place but will convince the other that we have all the time to stay back. We want to share our stories but will instead say there’s nothing new to talk about.
Is it because we are too polite? Or, afraid that if we told the truth, it would hurt others? Or, is it simply the reaction of the other person that stops us from saying what’s on our mind?
For me, it has been all of the above. I do not like confrontations and arguments. Debates were never my thing. I’d rather sit down and discuss the matter instead of looking at the winning and losing side of a problem. I am all for communicating and removing that communication barrier with my close ones.
But, when I see that the other person refuses to open up or discuss, after multiple attempts, I take a step back. And, then, I stop myself from speaking anything. I stop using words. But, my body never lies. Our bodies can never lie. We can train it all we want to not give away clues of our true emotions and feelings, but it still speaks for itself.
Perhaps, that’s why, on the day of judgement, it’s our body parts that will either speak for or against us:
Photo from SKA2324
Personally, among all the body parts that help in reading body language, I find the face really fascinating. I could write pages about my observation in the changes of face at different occasions of different people in different stages of my life so far.
But, I am perplexed at those who manage to keep a poker face no matter what the situation. It could be a blessing for them in disguise. But, if you actually take a closer look, you’ll know that it isn’t really a blessing. People with poker faces often hold so much within them that it can sometimes weigh them down. They are those who prefer to individually handle their issues without seeking external help and advice. Nobody knows what’s going on in their lives and they continue to keep their masked poker face game strong. Their face becomes an impenetrable wall blocking anyone and everyone to get closer. And the worst part is, even if someone wanted to help, they wouldn’t know that these poker faced people actually need it because their face doesn’t ask for it.
My face, on the other hand, is way too expressive. As a girl, I spend more time in front of the mirror trying to look at my face and beautifying it. This is a conscious choice I make each day. However, I have unconsciously run to the mirror with other motives in my mind besides beautifying it.
I remember of all those times that I did wrong things and hid it from my parents and when I was finally caught, I managed to confess my wrong doings and asking for forgiveness from them. I remember running to the mirror to wipe away my tears and to fix my face, and each time I did that, I saw a lightness, an innocence returning back to my face. I felt lighter and that reflected on my face.
I remember the times when I was at my lowest, emotionally and perhaps, physically, crying for days at a stretch and spending my nights watering down the pillow until the sun showed up, and then flipping the pillow on to the other side and watering that down too. And when it was time to get up and face the world, the first thing I’d do is to fix my face by running to the mirror. The world couldn’t know. It shouldn’t know. And, what I saw in the mirror is exactly what I was going through: Pain. It’s as if I could just read my own face so clearly without knowing my own story. I saw deep pain- in the wetness of my eyes, in the stillness of my expressions and in the absence of a curve around my lips.
And I also remember the times when little compliments from someone made my day. And in my attempt to click a selfie, I happened to see myself again. And this time, my face showed radiance and brightness even though I had just woken up from sleep.
Thinking about it, I can’t stop reminding myself that it is indeed our face that was specially carved by Allah and it is He who made our face the only unique thing to differentiate one from another.
Face. It speaks for itself. It masks a million emotions. It shows some. Hides some. But, it does speak. The truth.

4 thoughts on “The Face”

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