Self-Reflection

My mother always taught me to cherish my true form—the unique form I was born in. It was supposed to be my anchor… my true self… my core identity throughout a lifetime of impermanence.

As a shifter, I can be anything—any species, any sex… any size, shape, or color I want. I can personalize my appearance like a living sketchpad. It’s liberating, but this kind of freedom has consequences. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m nothing but an imposter, constantly copying those around me, never adding something novel to the world.

My true form is supposed to combat these feelings, and I’ve forgotten it like an old pair of socks.

I flex my scaled wings as I glide over the mountainous landscape, scanning for the legendary Tunnel of Enlightenment. There, I hope to find a Satori—the only creature alive who can tell me who I am. Rumor has it, the Satori can access one’s mind, retrieving what was once forgotten. He might just share his knowledge... if I pass his tests.

The longer I glide, the more uncomfortable I become in my dragon form. I’ve never felt much like myself as a dragon. My scales are hot and itchy, and there’s hardly any sensation in my thick hide. Worst of all, I have more limbs than I care for—four legs, two wings, and an annoyingly long tail. My mind struggles to keep track of them all.

Finally, I spot it—a dark opening on the side of the highest peak. I pump my wings twice as I land on the rocky outcropping. The tunnel before me is dark and narrow. I step closer to the cave, transforming myself into an elf. Not only is this my favorite form, but I’m sufficiently small to enter the Satori’s tunnel. Before I lose my resolve, I step into the cavern, relying on the night vision of my elven form.

I walk for quite some time, moving slowly, scanning the tunnel for traps. Fortunately, there are none. After what feels like hours, I emerge in a circular cavern. Seated cross-legged in the center of the floor is a creature I’ve never seen before.

The Satori.

He’s small—not much larger than myself—and extremely hairy. He looks like a cross of a monkey and a goblin. As I watch him, he never opens his eyes.

“What do you seek?” the Satori asks, his voice deep and garbled from years of inactivity.

I clear my throat. “Oh, Enlightened One, I come seeking knowledge.” Like most elves, my voice is light and airy.

Still, the Satori doesn’t open his eyes. “I must warn you,” he grumbles. “The only knowledge I possess is of those who stand before me.”

My heart beats faster. “That is exactly what I seek,” I insist. “You see, I’m a shapeshifter. I… well… I’ve forgotten my true form. I need help remembering.”

The Satori nods his head in the darkness. “Very well. Before I share my knowledge, you must pass one test.”

“As you wish, Enlightened One. I’ll do anything. What do you require of me?”

“Tell me how it happened?” The Satori grins mischievously. “Why did you forget, young shifter? Was it amnesia? A brain injury, perhaps? A stroke? Dementia?”

His face is angled right at me, but his eyes are still sealed shut.

“Ummm, no. It wasn’t amnesia,” I admit. “It wasn’t any of those things. I…” I’m ashamed to say it, but it’s true. “I just forgot. I’ve been in my elf form for so long, I guess the memories just kind of… faded.”

The Satori nods his head. “How long has it been since you’ve taken your original form?”

Once again, I’m ashamed to say it. “800 years… maybe more.”

“Hmmm.” The Enlightened One ponders this a moment longer. “Tell me, young shifter, why do you prefer this elven skin over your original form?”

Immediately, I know the answer. “I’ve always wanted to live a long life. As a shifter, I age at the rate of my current form. Take the form of a fly, and I could die in a day… But elves can live thousands of years. My true form, however, ages at an unknown rate. It would seem silly to risk it.”

The Satori’s lip twitches at a frown. “Odds are, your true form ages slower than an elf, no?”

“Well, I suppose it’s possible,” I admit, “but I didn’t want to take that risk.”

The Satori nods his head. “If longevity is your goal, why not take the form of a dragon… or perhaps a unicorn. You could live nearly forever?”

“I… I don’t know.”

The monkey-man sighs, clearly disappointed with my response. “I’ll give you one last chance, young shifter. Why did you abandon your true form? Why avoid it for so many years.”

“Because…” I wrestle with myself, trying to accept the truth. “Because…”

“Why, shifter? Speak your truth.”

“Because I didn’t like it!” I finally gasp. “It had too many limbs—eight or maybe ten… I can’t remember. It just didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like me.”

Suddenly, the Satori’s eyes snap open. They’re solid black—two all-seeing pupils of indiscernible depth. They fixate on my face, seeing directly through my soul. My mind is now on display, and the Satori sees everything.

“You have passed the test,” the Satori announces. His voice is different this time. It’s light and airy, like an elf.

It’s my voice.

Unnerved, I take a step back. “I don’t understand.”

“I am a mirror of your own mind,” the Satori mutters. “In order to learn from yourself, you must first be honest with yourself. That was the test, and you’ve passed.”

“So you’ll help me?”

The Satori purses his ape-like lips. “I cannot tell you anything you don’t already know. It is you who must help yourself. As you have so bravely accepted, you are not at home in your original form. Why return to it?”

“Because…” I’m at a loss for words. “Because it’s supposed to be important. It’s my true form. It’s who I am.”

“No,” the Satori snaps. “It is your original form. It is not who you are, but what you once were. Your true form is the form that is true to yourself. If you ask me, you’ve already found it.”

I look down at myself, seeing my form for what it is. I’m tall for an elf, but my ears are terribly cliche, long and pointed. My skin is a deep mahogany, and my hair is snow white. I find the contrast alluring. As for my body, it’s neither feminine nor masculine, delightfully ambiguous in my opinion. Lastly, my eyes are a piercing purple. It’s not a traditional look for an elf, but it feels right. It feels like me.

“This is it,” I finally whisper. “This has been my true form all along.”

At those words, the Satori closes his eyes, his voice returning to a deep grumble. “As you have said it, so it is.”

Already, a weight has been lifted from my mind. “Oh, Enlightened One, I can’t thank you enough. How can I repay you for your wisdom?”

“There is no need to thank me,” the Satori smiles. “You only need to thank yourself.”