On dropping uncomfortable masks
Recently I watched a short video of the Chinese performance art Bian Lian. The performer changes painted masks in a split second. One face disappears and another appears before the eye can notice the movement.
It was impressive — and slightly unsettling.
There are days I return home after meeting people and feel tired without having done any physical work. The conversations were polite. Nothing unpleasant happened. Yet something within feels used. It happens after certain phone conversations too.
I began to notice — not all tiredness comes from activity.
Some of it comes from continuous adjustment.
In many interactions we do not simply speak. We manage ourselves. We measure tone, choose words carefully, soften reactions, hide certain thoughts, and sometimes show interest when the mind is elsewhere. Nothing dishonest, nothing dramatic — just small corrections.
Outwardly it looks like a normal conversation.
Inwardly it is ongoing regulation.
I realised the stage is not the only place where masks change quickly. I noticed how often I adjust myself depending on who stands before me.
We play roles — agreeable listener, understanding relative, patient partner, reasonable friend. A role helps relationships function. But a role can quietly become an identity.
A role serves the moment. A mask begins to serve approval.
The mind then runs two parallel tracks: what I feel, and how I should appear. By the end of the interaction the body is not tired, but attention is.
We are often not exhausted by people, but by the effort of managing ourselves around people.
I slowly found a simple way to notice this. After meeting someone I asked only one question: Did I feel lighter or slightly contracted afterwards?
Where I felt ease, I had been natural. Where I felt a quiet heaviness, I had been performing more than relating.
Carefulness has a cost.
So I tried small changes.
Not blunt honesty — only small truthfulness.
A shorter conversation instead of a prolonged one.
A pause before replying to a message.
“I will think about it” instead of immediate agreement.
The mask reacts quickly. The self responds slowly.
Nothing dramatic changed outside. Yet I felt less drained afterwards. Conversations ended, and they also ended inside me.
I had believed authenticity was a moral idea. I am beginning to feel it is also a form of rest.
Living with fewer masks does not mean removing every role. It only means not wearing unnecessary ones.
Because energy is not only lost in effort.
It is also lost in pretence.
Now, sometimes after meeting people, I return home and feel ordinary — neither energised nor depleted.
Perhaps nothing special happened.
Perhaps, for a while, I was simply myself.
Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar
