An Enigma Wrapped in A Mystery – Wrapped in Irony

I was in conversation recently with a group of friends, talking about taking risks.  The talk evolved from things that are empirically risky – squirrel suit, anyone? – to things that are relatively safe if done well, but still feel risky because they are a stretch for your comfort zone.  For me, skydiving and SCUBA might be in that category.

But then we homed in more, on things that feel the riskiest of all.  And the winner? Showing up as your vulnerable, authentic self.

So, there’s the enigma: people are more scared to take their own social mask off than to jump off a cliff with webbing under their arms – an activity with an “it’s not if, it’s when” mortality risk.

And then the mystery: why is it so scary to be vulnerable in front of people? To take off that mask?

I got the chance once to learn about a powerful art therapy project that involved making a plaster mask of one’s face.  Then, the assignment was to paint the outside with what you show to the world and how you believe the world sees you. The inside gets painted with symbols and colors that represent how you see yourself. Both surprisingly and not, no one’s mask is ever painted the same way on the inside as the outside.

Our culture doesn’t seem to encourage alignment between the inside and the outside. For example, I was taught to believe that to shed tears in public, especially in a place of work, is anathema and a disgrace. But it turns out that despite that rule, I’m an emotional person sometimes.  So if I were making a mask, until recently, there would have been a big blue sad tear-shaped section on the inside – mirrored by a yellow and black emoji-style smiley face on the outside. It might even be captioned, “Put your game face on, Cann!”

And, now for the irony: why is it that we would rather be liked for who we’re not than be not liked AND loved for who we are? Why do we put so much work and effort into designing the exterior, world-facing part of that mask – even though it is also true that if people like that mask, they don’t necessarily like us?

I obviously don’t have the answer to that. It’s a deep and complicated issue.  But I know this: it sure seems not that great to be liked for who you’re not. And here’s the invitation: I would like the next mask I make to look the same from both sides. You?