A long while back, I was at dinner with good friends from Houston when this raccoon suddenly appeared in a very public place. He seemed to know that he was noticed and appeared annoyed by the fact. He wandered further down the boardwalk and hopped in the next available trash can. These masked banditos are rare in the dense suburban environment. This one was put out that he had stumbled into this luxury dining experience, but it was rife with humans. His mask didn’t hide his displeasure, but if animal control had shown up to relocate him, his mask might have shifted from displeasure to down-right anger.

Our masks

The raccoon’s mask and attitude initiated a contemplation regarding the roles we play and how our persona changes based on our context. Much is made these days about being “authentic.” In some cases, it’s very difficult for me to determine what is authentic, especially when it comes to me.

I feel like I have different masks for different situations; I play roles both consciously and unconsciously based on the programs I have developed over the course of my life.

When I am at work, my mask is that of a techie. I work hard to be innovative, knowledgeable, and a leader. When I am on my bicycle, I’m the old guy who still has something in the tank, knows a bit, has done a lot, and still has the ambition to do more. My father and grandfather mask are caring, supportive, and hopefully, a little bit wise.

Our masks are not silos; Sometimes, our pride or our ego, sometimes a desire to be vulnerable will allow us, or even encourage us to reveal another mask. I will sometimes talk about my cycling adventures with my work colleagues, maybe they see a mask that changes their perception of the mask they usually see.

The frown lines in our masks

Whether our masks are intentional or a result of habit, they often limit us. They cause us to create rituals and patterns that allow us to miss what is evolving and changing in front of us. The synaptic roads within our brains are the most comfortable paths. Like the grooves carved by ancient Roman chariots, we are most comfortable when we are “in the groove.”

These synaptic highways were theorized about 75 years ago by a psychologist named Donald Hebbs. He famously stated that, “cells that fire together, wire together”.

We don’t want to remove our mask, lest our role, our authority, or our comfort be disrupted. But sometimes, we must examine the mask and learn that it is broken, doesn’t fit as well, and is keeping us from seeing reality and options that we had previously not seen. Often, we recognize that there are better methods and new things that we must learn, but we are too comfortable with the status quo to make the effort to change.

Over the past couple of years, I have tried to be aware of my “masks,” understand where they limit me, and then learn to allow my brain’s innate neuroplasticity to engage and make changes. Awareness is the first step, action, and habit are the necessary next steps.

There is a Japanese philosophy known as Wabi Sabi. Succinctly, it is seeing the beauty of the wear and imperfections that come with age, with humility and grace. As I learn to examine my masks, I understand that I must do so with the understanding that there is beauty in me, my imperfections are part of that beauty, but they are not me.

Becoming more alive

Once I am aware that my mask is broken, taking actions to create impactful, and lasting change is hard. Often, the actions are obvious, such as changing my morning routine so that I engage in productive activities such as exercise, planning, or other meaningful tasks rather than scrolling YouTube, reading useless news articles, or playing games. Consistency and self-compassion are important. It takes innovation, creativity, and persistence to break long-standing or satisfying habits.

A stoic question asks, “Is this ‘alive time’ or ‘dead time’?” Alive time is productive for my goals, and dead time is non-productive except as mental candy.

The more consistent I can be, the better, stronger, and smoother the new synaptic highways will be. For a while more reading helped, changing my workouts helped, and making choices to do different things, like cooking and traveling. Then life happened, and I easily fell back into old habits, the deep ruts, the comfortable synaptic highways. Start again.

When habits are long-standing, it takes real commitment to change. Comfortable routines like sitting down and reading the news may not be productive, but it feels good. If I am aware that it is not serving me, then I must also disrupt the comfortable routine. I take steps like changing the sequence of activities in the morning or placing items where they cannot be over-looked.

The most important thing I have found is to have self-compassion. Failure is not permanent; be resilient and reassuring, but innovate and always begin again. My raccoon friend didn’t seem happy with his situation, with all the onlookers, and he probably didn’t find much in the small trash cans along the boardwalk. What if he had changed his habits and jumped in the dumpsters out back, where there was less to fear, and an abundance of leftovers?

Published by Trekking Cyclist

from Plano, TX. Father, grandfather, cyclist, fan of the Texas Rangers and Texas Longhorns View all posts by Trekking Cyclist