Once upon a time there was a man who wore a mask to work. His co-workers only ever saw a man in a mask, not him. When he leaves work, he takes that mask off for he doesn’t need it anymore. And underneath it, there’s another mask. That which he wears for the general public, for those who see him when he’s walking the streets of his city. When he gets home he can finally take it off. And underneath it he finds yet another mask that he shows to his family and friends. And not until he goes to bed does he take that mask off. And finally in the mirror he sees a mask that he shows himself.
We all tell stories. We tell stories to our parents and teachers, we tell stories to friends and lovers whom we don’t want to lose, we tell stories to our manager, partner, husband, doctor. We are being fed stories from the media, sales people, governments, religions, stories are all around us, we no longer know (or had we ever) how to be without a story to cover ourselves or make us feel better. We tell stories to ourselves, every day, guided by the criteria of someone else’s success or failure (also stories), not by the truth that is held in our core.
We will distract ourselves with various activities, images, thoughts, creating stories around how we feel and why rather than acknowledging that the feeling is indicating towards inner reality and the only reality we will ever experience. We are afraid of the knowledge that we experience our life alone, even if in company of another, we don’t want to look at the cruelty we inflict on ourselves and others, we will justify, present excuses and ‘reasons’ , we will close our eyes just to put the truth out of sight. For once you know, you cannot not know, and once you know, you can only grow. Of course a story can make you feel better. An ‘innocent’, invisible kind of drug, a body numbing mind exercise that keeps you busy, confused and disconnected from what is. Is it surprising the world is in conflict?