Do we really know those closest to us, indeed, do we really know our Selves?
We generally walk around, bumping off our fellow humanoids like the ball in a pinball machine, whilst falling for the masks they wear in the somewhat whacky world of human interaction. Like actors in a grand Venetian drama we strut, or rather, stumble around the stage of life in a relational stupor.
So are we all devious little creatures deliberately hiding our true self to those without?
Surprisingly, I believe not, for most of the time we’re not aware of which of our repertoire of masks we’re actually wearing!
May I suggest that our masks are initially the personalized projections of others upon us. Let me explain.
The Shadowlands reality of this space-time world, is, I believe, merely a perceived reality. A flat 2-D impression of a mystery filled 3-D + Source Reality. The human brain for all its marvelous complexity is actually reductionist in nature. Bombarded with a storm of incoming external and internal stimuli it draws a simplified sketch of our present state of being; one that helps us to maintain a functioning level of sanity in the swirling ocean of impulses called life.
In other words perception is the interpreter of our reality. This explains why I believe someone to be a scoundrel whilst another believes them to be a saint. Our perceptions, our decipherers of external stimuli are clearly on different settings.
So when we make up our mind about someone we’re doing so on the basis of our perception of them. In other words we’re creating a mask or persona for them, one that we place upon them every time we meet up. We regularly relate to them on the basis of the mask.
As the other reads our relational response to their mask they will conform to their perceived role in one of two ways. They will play along with our scripted role for them or they will rip off the mask and break off the somewhat unreal relationship. Let’s face it, much of our human interaction is role play, the adaptation of our Self image to the perceptions of others. This built up and somewhat manufactured Self is none other than the ego, the me in which we take refuge from the threat of further rejection and psychological pain.
The abused wife is willing to play the role of victim until another role is graciously offered to her by another director, one far away from her violent leading man, on another stage of self- perception.
So is there really anyone lying under our historic collection of projected masks?
I believe so.
Under the make-up of our social self lies an embryonic image, one placed in the depths of our being by the Creative Director of our human drama. This image is marinated in Divine Authenticity; it’s the real deal; the reflected image of our Source Love. To have this Self revealed, often through the painful stripping away of ego masks is true freedom and a homecoming of the most intimate kind.
The Nazarene, that mask-less prophet from another Stage, calls us into such a freedom. Mentored into the ways of Divine Love, we can finally touch base with our true Self; One that doesn’t require the imprisoning applause of the audience without.