Saturday, 24 July 2010

The Mask...

When I think about the concept of us as people wearing masks, initially I think of manipulative people or those with something to hide who portray themselves as something they are not to gain a pecuniary or some other form of advantage over another person. These sorts of masks are so common that we can easily mistaken them to be the full breath of the matter.


When I started considering 'human masks' as a concept, it is the less talked about, more socially accepted masks that I came across. The 'lying mask', the 'wooing mask', the 'sales mask' and the list can go on... There is a school of thought that these are not masks at all but attempts to put one's 'best foot forward' in order to succeed in those situations. Another school of thought is that if you package yourself in a particular way, promoting your best qualities without disclosing the full nature of your character then you are deceiving  your audience.


Mankind, instinctively preserves self, particularly from ridicule, rejection or reproach, will have and show many faces of their character depending on the circumstances they find themselves in. As such we often adorn a mask in situations where we do not feel comfortable or secure to cover ourselves from the scrutiny of others. Some people wear the 'pride / ego mask', while others wear the 'quite / reserved mask' and others still take up the 'talkative mask' in a bid to hide who they really are until they feel that they can trust their audience to become more vulnerable and show who they really are.


I wonder if the reason we wear these and other masks is is because we have developed a society that is based on 'ME'. Nike tells us to 'just do it!', whatever 'it' is that will make 'self happy'. Magazines tell women that men do not like intelligent independent and self assured women, so these qualities are hidden.... Celebrities and models stars set the tone of what we should wear, fashion as an industry being a mask in itself, encouraging us to lose our individual quirkiness and rather opt to be like everyone else in style and dress.  Employers, demand 'team players' causing us to set ourselves aside to buy into a culture we may not even agree with in order to gain acceptance... Over and over again we see tabloids pull people apart due to their physical flaws and decisions. We see 'respected' members of society being judged and exposed and discredited for their shortcomings, failures and mistakes and this makes it harder for us to be honest and genuine and instead we put on masks and hope that no one will notice we are hiding...


In order to be true to ourselves, we need to be true to our audience. Why? Because a lifetime of multiple mask wearing, can rob us of the simple pleasure of having genuine connections with other people and developing good relationships. It can cheat us out of being a principled person when we wear the mask of 'acceptance' especially in the work environment. It will take away the opportunity to make the 'right' first impression on people and hinder our chances at love when our masked is perceived as us, 'playing games'. As hard as it is to simply 'be ourselves', we are the very best version of ourselves when we are just that...


Masks and pretence can only be harbingers of our eventual downfall. They will hinder us from just being ourselves and in the end, we may even forget who we really are...Or we may never get to find out who that is, as we devote ourselves to conforming rather than being the best version of ourselves that we can be. 


Live WITHIN your own skin...Live WITHOUT the mask...




Men @ Work



                                        








It is FINISHED.

It is FINISHED. - A poem and image by Rudo Nyangulu
It is FINISHED…
With these three words it all began;
A stolen glance across the dark concourse as lighting strikes;
Hearts beats thunderously as attraction begins to electrify;
He cowers for cover as she begins to move, each step causing a quake under his feet,
Her scent pours into his nostrils as she surges past, lighting strikes twice,
The power cuts, short circuiting his brain as he follows her aroma;
A tornado erupts, passion floods the room as he yields,
Washing away every memory of his vows; love, honor, obey, respect, faithfulness…

It is FINISHED…
With these three words it all began;
Shock and awe attacks like never before;
Amassing intensity of turbulent tension as the silence screamed at them,
Explosion after explosion, destruction resulted as he walked out the door;
The death blow came with the dawn raid of his return;
The wretchedness of the aftermath of battle met the children in the morning;
Untold carnage as ‘love, honor and obey’ lay in a tattered heap on the floor;
Almost lifeless with only a weak pulse to distinguish them from the corpse of respect and faithfulness;
As she exhaled, the war was finally over, he was gone, they were no more.

It is FINISHED…
With these three words it all began;
Bulldozers moved to and fro flattening all that once was known;
Crain’s swing from high above threatening to land a blow at any moment,
Taunts rising as the dust of a collapsed structure billowing before them,
As they detonate in him an earthquake like tremor of epileptic proportions;
A broken home, a broken heart, a wounded soul,
No hope left to grasp as the last bag is placed in the moving van,
No home to return to, no family to mention,
A father missing in action, a mother in desolation…

It is FINISHED…
With these three words it all began;
With a victory cry and a resolve like no other He stormed hell,
Brighter than the sun He blinded all who beheld as He scoped His prize,
The din rose up to heaven as He claimed His prize,
The keys of hell were finally in his grasp,
He charged to the earth a victory to claim his spoils,
As He was witnessed by the masses He proclaimed a new day!
Victory over sin and death was finally within grasp,
For those who would forsake all, pick up their cross and follow Him into glory!
On the cross He proclaimed, ‘It is finished!”
…When then do we allow the devil to kill, to steal and to destroy?

Copyright (c) Rudo Nyangulu 2010. All rights reserved.

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