Today, a window suddenly opened wide and let out a storm I was blissfully unaware was even spewing around within my inner shadowlands. These windows are soul windows, they open from the inside out. This means that as any given window is opened, whatever is behind it, within, moves outwards and into the light of my sight and knowing. This particular window was tapped on by my Beloved, the most skillful glazier I’ve ever met.
It transpires, that I have eloquently managed to forge the art of mask making and wearing. I have created so very many, I have struggled to remember who I am underneath them all. Some of these masks were pretty permanent fixtures- some even spanning lifetimes and have taken painstaking deconstruction and removal through the medium of resolute will, dedication and blind faith. These particular kinds of mask were forged during the times in my life when the fires of shame, guilt, defeat, unworthiness and utter worthlessness were well stoked and tended to by myself and others and this inferno was raging most destructively within myself.
Masks are only good for covering over. Whatever it might be that provides the foundation for one to build a mask over, remains exactly as it is underneath for the entirety of the time masqueraded. For as long as one holds the mask in place, one holds the energy underneath in place. The longer any particular mask is worn, the trickier it can be not only to peel it off but to be able to recognise the True truth of what is found to be supporting it beneath. Moreover, it can appear much harder to integrate and release those old energies and associated patterns both within and from the self.
My Beloved sees right through my masks as if they are not just transparent but non-existent, which is incredibly core-shaking and makes vulnerability an optionless way of being. This is true intimacy: into me see. I had previously thought these masks of mine to be my brilliant masterpieces- keeping me safe in a world I have found cruel and hard and desperately lonely at times. These masks, the ones we create from darker, lower, deeper places have nothing to do with not being seen, in reality. Rather we design them by their nature to BE seen, yet in a specific audience-targeted light in order to cover up and guard our precious hearts. We do this under the guise of self protection, self preservation. It’s really quite a tragic human happening, if the Truth be known.
My heart has been broken more times than I care to remember but none so more than by myself. With every broken, dirty, covered and neglected window that is uncovered, revealed and opened up for the clean air and light of clarity to sail through, my heart breaks a little bit more. Sometimes the windows get smashed to smithereens and I step through the broken glass shards, as sharp and brilliant as diamonds. During such times, my daily walk becomes more of a limp while I heal. That’s the bitter-sweet dichotomy of getting real with ourselves.