When we are born, we are innocent and trusting. New souls. Then as we grow and gain more knowledge of the world, most people respond to it by appearing to be what is expected of them. We disguise ourselves by putting on masks, a different one for each situation, to blend in with others. Sadly, for many, over time this all becomes such second nature that the true self gets buried, perhaps so deeply that we lose the awareness of who we truly are.
It begins early, as young children learn which behaviour or expression will be rewarded by, or get them out of trouble with, grown-ups. It doesn’t take long for a parent to be wrapped around their child’s little finger! The need to belong to a group and adopt its language and lifestyle is an even more powerful urge in adolescence when friendships are important and teenagers are, paradoxically, finding their individuality.
Often this is harmless, based on ‘looking the part’ from school tie hanging loose to wearing ripped jeans and owning the latest ’phone. It’s odd, isn’t it, that rebellion against the adult world demands strict obedience to an alternative one. Sometimes this can have dark consequences, with online bullying of anyone who is ‘different’ perhaps escalating into physical violence. All because we must wear the right mask. Sadly, some young people who don’t have good family guidance never grow out of this behaviour.
Throughout history, societies have developed ways to counteract this negativity, one of the most important being religion. We are social animals so gathering in a group, or any club, of shared interests is natural. There’s support and comfort in knowing that we are surrounded by people who are like us in some respect. Privately, however, do we all comply with the doctrines when we find them inconvenient, or our own thoughts are at odds with them? How often have we sat in a church, mosque or synagogue and found ourselves thinking, ‘Um, actually I don’t agree with that…’? Then in conversation with friends we find that they agree with us but would never do so in public.
We swap our masks for new ones when we set off for work. On the morning trains and filling the city rush hour streets, we see countless thousands of people, mostly men, wearing identical dark suits with white shirts and sober ties, carrying identical briefcases and with bland expressions. Most of us are expected to adopt a conventional look and behaviour, follow the corporate rules, and not rock the boat even when we know that something’s wrong or, for example, a colleague is being badly treated. Taking off the mask could mean losing a promotion or, worse, being unpopular. Nobody wants that.
Listen to someone speaking on the telephone at work. Their voice alters and they become a totally different persona, their tone flat, the words carefully chosen. When we get through to a call centre, we may as well be speaking to a robot. Yet as soon as they finish the conversation there’s a quick change of mask and their voice reverts to normal.
Why do we do this, is it the ego emerging to present the best image of ourselves? Well, let’s admit that sometimes our masks are useful because they prevent personal feelings, doubts, and troubles, getting in the way of doing what needs to be done. Consider the schoolteacher or hospital nurse who may be exhausted by work pressures and home responsibilities, worried about finances or an elderly relative’s health: once through the door of the classroom or ward, the mask comes on because children and sick patients need their care.
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women
merely players… one man in his time plays many parts…”
(As You Like It, Act 2 Scene 7, by William Shakespeare)
We all play the part in our home lives, don’t we, identifying as the child or the parent, the grandparent, or the partner. And we expect this of one another, too, regardless of what an individual is feeling. When my own son was small, he overheard me bemoaning the fact that I was too large; to console me, he said, “It’s alright, mummies are supposed to be.” It wasn’t what I was feeling, but as parents we put aside our own concerns for the sake of our children. Then we switch again when we interact with other relatives… are we always our true selves even with our partners?
We all have a wardrobe full of masks for every occasion and wearing them becomes so normal that we can hardly ever tell what other people are really like or what they are experiencing. The angry person nearby in the supermarket queue may have just had some terrible news or be living with chronic pain (one in four people have a ‘hidden disability’). My doctor once suggested – I think he was joking – that he was considering inviting all his patients to a garden party; then he could see how they behaved when they were relaxed, because so many are good at disguising what they feel or find it hard to admit that they are unwell.
When we are born, we are innocent and fresh souls of pure love. As we grow, we adopt this or that mask to be able to live and get by in this world, to learn the lessons put before us on our journeys. But let’s never forget the true self within, recognise when we are speaking from the heart and when we are putting on an act for the world. How wonderful if we could always show the self of pure love.
Sandy Phillips is the author of The Narrow Doorway,
telling the story of her extraordinary life from growing up
in the London Blitz to many powerful spiritual experiences.
