Masks
by Rialian


The price of ignorance is the loss of intelligent conversation. I do not speak of ignorance of knowledge of others, but of an ignorance of the self, of the true motivations behind the multi-faceted faces that we show in battle. Sometimes we get so caught up in the need of building these faces, of assuming titles and in defending honors, that we lose sight of the illnesses we all carry that cause these growths that we carry plain for all to see.

We lose sight of the reason that the mask was formed in the first place: that it was formed as so to show us what we most need to work on and discard so that we might make a better and closer mask to find those things we must heal. Fae masks are masks that do not hide, they are ones that reveal us so much more. They are reflective prisms that illuminate our souls so that we might walk with our heart in our sight.

Once we become enamored by the mask, we follow it into ignorance, and we lose the ability to converse true, to be able to look at the masks around us and be able to help find the beauty within the eyes and in the substance of the masks we all wear. So when this happens, this ignorance, we begin to associate the mask with the only truth, the has-to-be, the target or the love or the fear or the whatever.

We start seeing our own mask on others, and call for an assault, a worship, some action or inaction. We convince others of our vision, and make our illness mask the public good, and the other that is not, the evil one, the prejudiced, that which disappoints us. Our ability to converse, to interrelate, is harmed, and we form our own world, trying to hold onto our delusion, and we go down the path of dissolution, of separation from the worlds that we gain the substance to live from. We become hollow and end.

I pray that we all learn that we all are masks, and that we live through them, and discard them when we are done. We are not the masks, except in so far as they express the self at that time that must be learned.


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