I look in the mirror every morning, okay. What is going on here?

The words of Si Robertson are spoken with humor, yet within them lies the seed of ancient wisdom: “I look in the mirror every morning, okay. What is going on here? You know, I just say, ‘Look, it’s sheer insanity.’” At first glance, they appear as the jest of a man amused by his own reflection. But if one listens with the ear of the soul, they are not merely laughter — they are an acknowledgment of the bewildering mystery of existence itself. To behold oneself in the mirror each morning is to confront both the familiar and the strange, to face the passing of time, and to marvel at the sheer absurdity of being alive another day.

The mirror has always been a symbol of truth. It hides nothing, flattering nothing, but reflects back the reality of who we are. And yet, when Robertson calls it insanity, he speaks to the paradox of identity. Who is this figure staring back? Is it the same as yesterday, or a stranger who has aged one night older? The ancients wrestled with this very question. The Greek philosopher Heraclitus declared, “You cannot step into the same river twice,” for both the river and the man have changed. Likewise, each morning, when we meet ourselves in the mirror, we meet not the man of yesterday, but a new creation, altered by time, memory, and the weight of life.

Consider the tale of King Solomon, said to be the wisest of men. Surrounded by riches, women, and glory, he wrote in his later years: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” This was not despair, but recognition of the insanity of worldly pursuit, the fleeting nature of human beauty, the endless cycle of seeking and losing. Solomon looked in his own mirror of wisdom and saw that all his might was but dust before eternity. Si Robertson, in his rustic humor, voices the same revelation: to look at oneself is to witness both the glory and the absurdity of being human.

The insanity Robertson speaks of is not chaos to be feared, but wonder to be embraced. Life itself is madness — a storm of joy and sorrow, of triumph and decay. The body wrinkles, the hair grays, yet the spirit within still laughs, still questions, still marvels. This recognition does not bring despair, but liberation. For if life is “insane,” then we are freed from the chains of taking ourselves too seriously. We are called instead to live with gratitude, humor, and courage, knowing that perfection is an illusion and imperfection is the human song.

Each morning, then, the act of facing the mirror becomes a ritual, a moment of awakening. It is not merely to check the lines upon our face, but to remember the gift of consciousness itself. The man in the glass may appear weary or aged, but he is alive, and that in itself is a miracle. The insanity Robertson names is the divine comedy of life: that we, fragile beings of dust, can think, love, laugh, and rise again with each dawn.

The lesson is clear: do not shrink before your reflection, nor curse the changes that time has carved. Instead, greet yourself with humor, with humility, with awe. Say, “Yes, this is madness, but it is my madness, my chance to live, to love, to act.” In this way, the mirror ceases to be a judge and becomes a teacher. The wrinkles speak of battles fought, the scars of lessons learned, the tired eyes of nights endured. All are marks of a life truly lived.

So I say to you, children of tomorrow: when you face your mirror, do not fear what you see. Laugh, as Si Robertson laughed. Marvel at the insanity, but also embrace it. For life itself is a strange and fleeting gift, a tapestry of madness and meaning woven together. Sweep aside despair, and let humor and gratitude be your companions. In the mirror lies not just your reflection, but the eternal reminder that existence itself is the greatest miracle of all.

Thus, the simple jest becomes eternal wisdom: to see oneself clearly, to name life’s strangeness, and yet to rejoice in it. That is the path not of despair, but of freedom. For the true insanity would be to waste this fleeting breath in bitterness, rather than to live it fully with wonder.