Behind The Mask ~ INTRODUCTION
I have chosen for
the cover of this book a painting by a Renaissance
artist entitled Old Man and a Child, to illustrate
that, even though the outside might be quite ugly,
inner qualities can and do shine through. It is my
own interpretation or evaluation, of course, and is
open to challenge, but in this picture, I see a wonderful
rapport taking place between the subjects (I don’t
know who they are; maybe they are grandfather and
grandchild; it looks like). The child is gazing into
the other’s eyes with ...... what is it?—is
it wonder, amazement, curiosity, love, or what? The
innocent manner of the hand laid lightly on the other’s
chest suggests that there is no fear or aversion but
a complete acceptance of him as he is—warts
and all! And the old man returns the gaze with a look
of compassion and understanding. He has seen life,
has suffered, and knows that the child is in for its
share of difficulties and pain.
Have you ever seen a particularly ugly person
who is happily married to someone quite good looking
and thought to yourself: "How could anyone possibly
love such an ugly person?"? It may be because
the other was able to see something inside him/her
that more than made up for the ugly exterior. If we
love someone for what they are, the exterior ceases
to be of great importance.
It is said that beauty is in the eye of
the beholder. If we have a beauty-base inside us—a
sense of beauty, or an appreciation of it—then
we may see beauty outside, and the more beauty there
is inside us, the more we will see outside, even in
things that other people find unremarkable or perhaps
even ugly. If, on the other hand, we lack such a sense,
how shall we see beauty outside or in others? If we
have only ugliness inside, what we see outside will
appear ugly, too.
Another old proverb runs: Handsome is as
handsome does, meaning that, ultimately, our actions
are our measure, not our appearance; there are plenty
of good looking people who behave in very ugly ways,
and ugly people who behave very well.
Most people would like to have a good looking
partner, but there are those who bitterly regret marrying
a beautiful woman or handsome man. Beauty is often
its own worst enemy, in that it deceives us into thinking
that the external appearance is of paramount importance,
so we rest content, and look for nothing more. And
ugliness is often its own best friend, in that we
are forced to look beneath the surface, where we might
discover more durable and valuable qualities than
just the ephemeral skin-deep aspect.
If we are unaware of the world within, unaware
of the importance of the spiritual life, what is left
but to live on the material level? We lose touch with
ourselves—if we ever had touch with ourselves
to begin with—and live largely to impress others
and look good in their eyes (which is what fashion
is all about; if we were honest about it, we would
recognize that we follow fashion more for others than
for ourselves). If we are ‘good looking’,
pride of appearance easily arises, and is often accompanied
by disparagement of others less handsome. This is
dangerous, and invites retribution, and it would be
wise to keep in mind the case of Johnny Weissmuller,
the actor who played Tarzan in the old movies: he
had a splendid physique and was an Olympic champion
swimmer, but that did not prevent him from becoming
a quadriplegic, unable to do anything for himself,
or even to speak, but having to depend upon others
to do everything for him. It is said that ‘pride
goes before a fall’. I don’t know if he
was proud before his fall, but in his position—as
a star adored by his fans—I guess it would be
hard not to be proud.
Now, no-one chooses to be ugly; neither
do people become handsome by choice; these things—like
everything else—are results of causes, most
of which we had/have no control over. So there is
no reason to be proud of being handsome and to look
down on others, but every reason to treat it cautiously,
for—like everything else—it is subject
to change; moreover, it is a mixed blessing.
I called the first printing of this book
WARTS AND ALL is because we all have ‘warts’
of various kinds—not on our skin, but on our
character—that is, negativities and deficiencies,
which again, are not of our choice (who would choose
to have such things?), so there is no need to feel
too bad or guilty about them, as there are plenty
of others with the same faults and failings as us;
we are not alone, and knowing this makes it easier
for us to bear our insufficiencies and imperfections,
until eventually, we may throw them off and leave
them behind; if we were the only one, we would be
in very serious trouble, but we are not, so it makes
it ‘not so bad’ or hard to bear.
But we are ashamed of our imperfections
and would like to be free of them. This often leads
us to disguise and try to cover them up, or deny that
they exist. But if we do not acknowledge and accept
them, we will never be able to deal with them, as
it is hardly likely that they will go away by themselves.
So, first of all, we must recognize and admit the
existence in ourselves of our ‘warts’
and imperfections, and be open about them—not
in an exhibitionist way, but honestly and fearlessly.
As I’ve just said above, we’ve all got
them, and if we would see them as human or common
failings rather than as personal faults, we would
be able to assist each other in dealing with them.
If, in places, I have been rather blunt,
it is because I considered it necessary, so I make
no apologies. If we are shocked by straightforward
words and ideas in this day and age, how shall we
deal with the much-more-shocking realities of life?
Where I have criticized anyone in this book,
I have not done so maliciously, but with the purpose
in mind of drawing lessons therefrom. And I would
now like to express my gratitude to them for providing
me with things to write about. It should be noticed,
however, that I have named no names (I find that kind
of thing distasteful), and it should not be thought
that I am making a thing of personality of it all.
I have just said that the things I have criticized
and drawn attention to are human failings, and they
are useful in that we can learn something from them;
it is therefore that I am grateful. Eventually, everything
might be regarded as Dharma, and not just things that
we think of as ‘good’. So, thanks for
being imperfect, everyone! Thanks for your ‘warts’
(and mine)!
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