Uncovering Identities
We all go through our daily lives, for the most part, wearing a mask: a mask that we hide behind and show to the world. A mask that represents who we think we are, like a physical representation of our social media profile. It is the “best” (and sometimes, the worst) side of ourselves. One that displays the culmination of our likes and dislikes, of our beliefs and our belongings. It is the conditioning we wear or have been taught to wear. The robes and clothes from family, society and institutions for education. They are gorgeously adorned and prevent us from feeling naked around our peers, for without these clothes and opinions it would be hard to distinguish our very sense of self.
In ancient Greek drama, the Latin word persona referred to a mask or character, enabling actors to adopt multiple roles. This concept of persona has evolved beyond its theatrical roots, giving rise to our modern understanding of personality. Carl Jung, for instance, used persona to describe the social façade we present to the world—a mask crafted to create a specific impression while hiding and obscuring our true nature. This adaptation highlights the contrast between our external appearance and our true inner essence.
Just as an actor assumes many roles throughout their career, we each don an array of identities throughout our lives. These identities, like the costumes of an actor, change according to the scenes we play out on the stage of life. We may be a parent in one scene, a friend in another, a teacher, a student, an artist, an engineer, and so on. Yet, beneath these changing guises, the essence of who we are remains steadfast and unaltered.
The mask we wear is an amalgamation of our conditioning, preferences, traumas, and beliefs. Many spend their entire lives with this mask on and assume it is who they are. They fear death because they don’t want to take off the mask. They are afraid. We run around in all sorts of strange ways because we assume we are this network of stuff we have compiled and picked up along the way. We want to show people what’s on our Instagram page—the photos of our lives that display the things we like, the things we do—in hopes that we will be liked, in hopes we will pass some test, in hopes we are doing it right. When we seek validation and approval, this mask comes to be what we identify with.
But spirituality is about taking off the mask.
So, we must ask, "Who am I without the mask?"
It is like coming home after a long day's work and taking off your clothes. You’re not attached to your work clothes. In fact, it probably feels good to take them off. You might feel some separation from the burdens or dramas of your work life. Naked, without the flattering colours or neat lines of your outfit, you might look in the mirror and see yourself more clearly.
Likewise, as a spiritual practice, you might take off parts of your identity: your name, your parents, your thoughts, your beliefs, your ideas and opinions. Take off the body, limb by limb, until all that is left is what is aware of all these parts. What is aware of the name is nameless. What is aware of the body is formless. What is aware of the thoughts is not a thought. It is this natural, pristine, and naked awareness that is free from all bondage.
When we uncover the mask, we stand open-faced to the winds of the world and ready ourselves for a new dance, a new act, and a new song. A new way of looking with eyes that see and ears that hear.
Even while inviting this uncovering, it’s important to acknowledge where the mask comes from, and its value. Circumstance and experience leave their traces, their imprints, and their scars upon our psyche. It is like applying makeup or face paint. Each line contributes to the next, and soon enough, we have an accumulation of a colouration of scenarios, sentiments, and suffering painted thick upon our faces. It becomes veneer, and two things happen here. First, we externalise the mask and, as a result, see more of its colouring in the world. Second, it becomes a mask that the world also identifies us through and so we become trapped.
Accordingly, we assume, “This is a part of me, for without it, who would I be?” But if you wipe off the makeup and look behind the mask, you’re forced to ask, “What is there? Who is that? What is that?” There is nothing inspirational or motivational about this inquiry. We are not in the realm of self-improvement, which is ultimately just about refining a mask. This is about consciousness itself, naked and raw.
This inquiry does not mean that you’re denying the mask—the rich colouring of stories, beliefs, and feelings that comprise your wonderfully unique life. It is simply an opportunity to see beneath all that, even if just for a moment, so you can marvel at the freedom of all that is.
It doesn’t have to be mysterious; it’s actually quite simple. It’s about the space we share, this effortless presence that surrounds us. It’s a kind of revealing of what lies within us—a vulnerability, an unravelling, a nakedness.
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Q: From your teaching, I see the value of looking behind the mask. But it also seems to be an important/necessary and even enjoyable part of living in the world to intentionally create and wear a mask. Can you talk more about how we might toggle between a non-dual and dual perspective, thereby allowing us to alternate between infinite unity and individual identity?
Some think that removing the mask results in a type of monotonous drab, a kind of blank page in a colourful world. They assume that if they take away their quirkiness, they are not themselves anymore. Even worse, some people take that assumption and place it on top of their spirituality like a meek, pious, and self-righteous show of how profound, or profoundly boring, their spiritual life is.
However, it is quite the contrary. It is not doing nothing; instead, it is nothing doing. In other words, it is carrying the beauty of being with you into the world and your worldly duties. To move because you are moved, moved by our shared humanity. To see that when you pull a thread in the tapestry, it pulls the threads around it and when you tie knots in the tapestry, the picture becomes distorted. When you take off your mask, however, all children are your children, all parents are your parent, all beings are your being. In this way, you come out from hiding behind a façade and into the open, and that is where compassion blossoms, where joy blossoms and where love pollinates.
With realisation, one crosses the tracks, so to speak, from the tracks of duality into the understanding of unity. We can hold both at the same time, though, most of the time, we encounter the world from a separate, secluded, and private universe that interacts with what is out there, and we occasionally entertain the idea of oneness and non-separation.
Crossing the tracks means that your understanding of the transcendent nature of things comes first. The recognition of space comes before the separate objects that fill the space. You still live in duality as an individual with preferences, an address, and survival needs. The difference is that you have had the inward recognition that your essential nature is not different from the essential nature of all things. The walls between self and other open, for the space that separates is the same space that unites. The space that is outside and in-between is also inside. It is your eternal presence.
That eternal presence can move you to stillness and contemplation; it can open you to kindness, forgiveness, compassion; it can allow you to play, dance, and sing with wonder. Does it make you an automaton? No, it means that the distance between the experiencer and the experience collapses. There is just experience, as opposed to the secondary thought that you call yourself, constantly ruminating, interpreting, and analysing the experience.
What is born, then, and what is the fruition of the realisation is this: spontaneity. The play of personality then expresses itself spontaneously. If there is joy, it laughs; if there is sadness, it cries. The filters lessen, and a more authentic expression emits. Most of us have an image of ourselves that we walk around with; we imagine ourselves somewhere, but really, we are tied up in imagination. We imagine we are talking to someone, but we are twisted in our self-referential thoughts about what the other thinks and how we can respond, rather than being alive, breathing, feeling, and heart beating in the moment of what is arising with the other.
So, how do we toggle between a non-dual and dual perspective? Just like that: we toggle. We toggle between the unitive experience and the daily duty of the individual, between the limited mask and the unlimited maskless. The mask curates all types of suffering that we cling to, confusing it to be ourselves. Unmasking means the freedom to actually be ourselves and realise that much of what we hold cannot be held, and is not who we are.
Can you be spiritual and still wear a mask?
Absolutely, for the fun of it, for the joy, for the sorrow, for the story, and for the celebration of its finitude.
What is the result of letting go of those false assumptions that come with the mask?
It is the liberation of who you genuinely are. It is the liberation from what you thought you were. It is a lightness of being. It is a spontaneous being of presence.
Excerpt from Walking the Forest Path Volume 1, available in early 2025.
