Sunday, October 5, 2008

Image

It's a funny thing, image. It can take years to establish, and a lifetime to maintain. And every day we run the risk of slipping up. Oh yes, sometimes we can go for long stretches of time where everyone thinks exactly what we want them to think of us. But sometimes the mask just cracks. Maybe it was the evening out we spent trying to look mature in front of older friends. Instead we came off looking like we were trying too hard (in hindsight, maybe the clothes were a little over-the-top . . .). Or maybe we were griping with our friends about stupid quizzes while our favorite teacher was standing right behind us. Perhaps the boyfriend we wanted to think we were sophisticated saw us in the beginning stages of late-night loopiness (it looks really flirtatious in a not-so-cute kind of way when you're just starting to 'lose it' at that magical hour . . .). Or our mom let it slip to a friend how old we really were when we last slept with "Snuggles".

These moments don't hurt exactly. They don't sting, or stab, or twist our stomachs. They just sort of make us cringe. It's the kind of cringe that makes you wish you could come with a magical eraser and make that distasteful moment in time disappear from the universe. In an instant, an image we have worked hard to cultivate can be shattered, or at least damaged. It seems like such a tragedy in the moment, though when given time to think about it we usually realize just how petty the whole incident was.

The problem with images is that usually they only incorporate the nobler parts of who we are. But no one is perfect, and it's impossible to keep our foibles under wraps all the time. So when we mess up, we always end up showing characteristics that make us appear a little worse than we did a moment ago. The standard lesson learned from this is that we need to be more careful, more polished, wear a thicker mask, and thus further guard ourselves from the potential criticisms of our humanity.

The result can often be effective, but it comes at a high price: Authenticity. While the pay off is that one has given the world a steady target, a polished mask for them to love or hate without wounding the person behind it; this also means that when this same one attempts to have an intimate relationship with another (perhaps mask wearing) person, the pealing gazes, the beams of interest and emotion shining from both pairs of eyes will only get as far as the subject will allow. When one wears a mask, they run the risk of disenfranchising the very people they wish to understand them the most. Instead their understanding hits against the mask erected, bouncing off its surface and refracting away as if it were mirror.

So we have a basic dilemma. Do we be authentic and run the risk of having that authenticity genuinely hated? Or do we be inauthentic and run the risk of disenfranchising those we need to love us? Usually, it's one or the other. It's either a habit of hiding, or a policy of integrity. Yes, I have just revealed my bias. Because masking is hiding. And it's a hiding that hurts.

Think of it this way, if you were to place a physical piece of plastic over your face your skin would start to feel warm, within a few minutes it would become wet and sweaty. Deprived of oxygen your body would start to freak out, and if you remained under these circumstances long enough your skin would literally begin to die and rot under the mask... I think this happens when we put masks over our souls as well. Eventually, if we never allow them to come up for air, they die, or at the very least become very unrecognizable. Later, if we ever do decide we want to remove our mask and experience true intimacy with another human being, it is a very confusing, difficult, and sometimes painful process.

I think it's worth it to be authentic. That doesn't mean we have to thoughtlessly bear our soul to the capricious world, but it does mean we allow our opinions, personality, and character to be what they are regardless of circumstance, or who's watching. They create an image that can never be destroyed. It's a question of health really. It's not good to hide forever. Eventually, we all have to come up for air.