The Masks We Wear: Your Choice

"If only we could tell people not to bring us down," Rev. Liz Mirante quipped as she opened her Sunday talk, Being My Authentic Self. Right?

Truthfully, nobody can actually do that. We choose how we feel, even when it doesn't seem like it. Simple, but not easy, like so much of this philosophy.

So, here's the question behind that: What would life be like if we consistently brought our whole, authentic selves into our relationships? How would our life experience be different? Author Glennon Doyle wrote about sending her "representative" into the world instead of herself, because she didn't believe anyone would like the real one.

But here's the thing. When we live life through a proxy, a mask, our connections end up just as artificial as the mask.

The Masks We Didn't Choose

Rev. Liz reminded us of what Rev. Jim covered last week, as we explore the Whole No Matter What: We learn these masks in childhood, based on what got rewarded and what got punished.

By the time we're five, we've already drawn conclusions about who we're allowed to be, largely through our family relationships. Some of us grew up around anger, or sadness, or with introverts, or extroverts, and all of it left an imprint.

So Rev. Liz asked, who are we, really, at five? We internalized our behaviors, made them part of our identity. And clearly, this was long before we could apply wisdom and make choices about who, what, and how we are.

If they really knew me, they wouldn't like me.

That belief is the reason we put the mask on in the first place.

The masks we wear...

Wearing the "Appropriate" Self

We bring these masks into our relationships. We censor ourselves based on what we think the relationship expects, and how we want to show up. We bring our "appropriate" selves. Rev. Liz called out the people-pleasers (pointing fingers back to herself) in the room, and reminded us that intimacy also means "into me, see."

The reality is, we don't stay the same, even if our masks do. We grow. The friends we had in high school, if we reconnect with them, may think they still know us, but most of us have changed (we all know the ones who haven’t). We're wiser with age, even if the mask hasn't caught up.

It's human nature to want to be seen. It's learned behavior that teaches us to hide instead. We crave connection — we're wired for it — but hiding behind a mask makes being seen impossible. So, we move through our lives feeling like we’re less than who we are. It's exhausting.

What We Don't Look At, We Project

Rev. Liz talked about the cost of not embracing our shadow selves, those parts of us we've deemed unacceptable and never come to terms with.

I didn't have siblings. I grew up alongside five cousins, though, and in a family that large, theirs was a very different experience than mine. I thought about that when Rev. Liz asked if we've ever been called selfish, because I heard that all the time.

And maybe I was - or maybe sometimes, it was me just trying to take care of myself. So for years, I worked hard to prove to everyone, and probably to myself, that I wasn't selfish. The cost of that was self-acceptance, self-love, a lot of confidence, and never taking a stand for myself.

In practice, here's how Rev. Liz explained what happens: What we can't accept in ourselves still has to go somewhere. It doesn't disappear, but instead of owning it, we see it in someone else. We have a strong reaction to it, judgment, irritation, even a kind of fascination, without connecting it back to us. The exercise she mentioned makes sense: the person in a room you're least drawn to shows you something you've disowned in yourself; the person you're most drawn to shows you something you haven't let yourself claim yet. Either way, the charge is information about you, not about them.

For "selfish," specifically — years of proving I wasn't selfish likely showed up as judging others who asked for what they wanted, or set a boundary, or put themselves first, even reasonably. Not because they're actually selfish, but because some old, unexamined verdict in me still says wanting something for myself isn't ok, and it's easier to police that in someone else than face it in myself. #truth...

Relationships Are the Mirror

Life is about relationships. It's what we're here to do. They're the mirror. They show us who we are, in any given relationship, at any given moment. Rev. Liz called them crucibles: we become something new by rubbing up against each other.

Relationships are how we come to know ourselves. That, and therapy. And this teaching.

The Choice to Be Loved As We Are

Our true selves can be messy, and for some of us, scary. But to be fully ourselves, to be loved, despite who we are, is a kind of grace.

Who can you be your whole self around? And how does that make you feel?

Is it worth the risk, to feel free?

Can we catch our own negative self-talk before it runs the show? Can we choose to love ourselves no matter what? Rev. Jim talked about forgiveness last week. Rev. Liz added to it: The Divine forgives everything. So, who are we to decide we know better?

Ernest Holmes wrote, in This Thing Called You, that since no two people are alike, there must be a place for each of us, imperfectly perfect, exactly as we are. We should stand in wonder about that, not apologize for it.

Dr. Seuss wrote something similar, in his own words. Popeye put it more simply: "I am what I am."

Three Ways Back to Yourself

Between the self-talk and the shadow work, Rev. Liz offered a third practice: observe the people you feel safe with.

Notice: They're not the ones with the perfectly turned-out home, the perfect car, the performance. The people we feel safest with are usually the ones who let us see they're not perfect either. This makes it safe for us to express our whole selves.

Multipliers of That Love

Here's the big why: when I'm willing to see the Divine in myself, when I get my own negativity out of the way, there's more room for love. And when we make room for Spirit’s love in us, it doesn't stop with us. It becomes love, as us.

We get to be multipliers of infinite love. Extenders of freedom.

That's on us, too.

Before I close:

I want to pause and acknowledge a loss our community is feeling. Just over a week ago, Rev. Judith Laxer, one of our beloved rotating speakers, left this mortal coil after a short illness. She leaves behind an extended community who loved her deeply, through and adjacent to Gaia’s Temple, a ministry she founded over 25 years ago. I didn't know Judith well, but I’m grateful to have met her, felt her presence, and learned from her. You can listen to her last talk (4/19/26) at CSL Ballard here.

With gratitude,

Laura