We used to hear a lot about masks, and how bad they were, back in the 1970’s. I wrote a bad folk-rock song about it, actually. Must have been more than one, but I am not going to traumatize myself by trying to remember. Shudder. There were plays about it. Art exhibits. Posters. Serious discussions at church youth group, at least if you were Congregationalist. We all wear masks. It’s all a mask, covering up her real desire to (whatever). He knows how to put on the mask. We shouldn’t hide behind our masks, we should try to be more authentic people.
I saw a little poster about those masks on the patient art board here at the hospital. I realized that I hadn’t seen this sentiment for a long time. I don’t know when it went out of fashion. Some poor patient here has got time-warp. There’s no cure for that. Once you’ve got time warp, you have it forever.
I felt a surge of gratitude that we are now spared this nonsense. We learned that masks are often just expressions of politeness, or adulthood, or assigned role. Being authentic is too often a synonym for rudeness or narcissism. It is related to another phenomenon which is also mercifully less fashionable now, the idea that we have to “get everything out” in order to free ourselves up and achieve psychic wholeness. My son needs therapy. He has all this anger inside that he needs to get out. No, no, he gets that anger out just fine. It’s keeping it in we need to work on here.
Trump may have masks, but I’m thinking WYSIWYG. Aren’t his opponents (and even some of his friends) suggesting they’d be happier if he had more masks and didn’t say what he’s thinking quite so much?