|
i sit in silence on the couch, drink perspiring little beads of condensation into my palm, making the glass slip a little as i sip. the awkward moment following the jerk of nerves to save a spillage, passes without being noticed and i continue to be an island in this sea of masks. casually i survey the room, hoping not to be caught in a staring moment, but i appear invisible. i begin to concentrate on delving beneath the masks, surmising to identities, testing the souls; i try to imagine what it is like to be them, wonder what they are thinking when they turn from the conversation - are they thinking about what is being said? do they truly believe in it? or are they just thinking about the shrimp? i focus on a couple dancing and laughing, and i wonder how their behaviours would differ if they were unmasked. i wonder if the bridges being built would be torn down. i find it almost funny how an illusion protects the core of these strangers and yet gives it away at the same time; that in wearing a mask they feel they can reveal themselves without fear of judgement or retribution. i briefly ponder on the phrase "all the world is a stage, and the men and women, merely players", and i see that it is only through a mask that the wearer ceases to act. as i wander through the faces, i see that the masks are essentially the same; strings behind ears securing anonymity, unmoving mouth holes muffling breath and speech, and i notice the only feature that always remains unaffected and unhidden - the eyes. i gaze randomly at these eyes and realize how much easier it is to see beyond the mask by looking into the windows of these souls. i see loss and loneliness, fear and guilt, and so many walls. i realize the power of words to move things, that penetration of the emotions is so much easier through the eyes than the other senses. i find it strange that the true self and true meaning of words can be lost in the mesh of speech and yet so much can be said in a simple glimpse. the constant hum of idle conversation drifting through the atmosphere of the room makes me realize just how silent these people really are. i wonder how many of them can truly express their thoughts through such oration. as i sit and think of all these things, i realize that i am in the grip of my own philosophising, that the thoughts encompassing my mind are only there because of all i am perceiving with my eyes. in that glorious moment of epiphany i am thrust so deeply inward it is as tho my soul is being turned out for all the world to see, and i reflect. cast into myself, i get the rarest of chances to view myself as others do; and i realize that i too am prisoner of my own mask. i see through my self-consciousness, my self-issued inadequacies and doubts, and see that i am a lighthouse keeper; the one who polishes the brass in those i care for and keeps their beacons burning brightly, retreating to the darkness and letting them shine forth for the world to see. i see that i too have a flame burning within that i must begin to feed, lest it die out and be gone forever. it is time for the masquerade to end.
|
phoenix mckenna © Mon 11 December, 2000