She sits and observes those around her, hearing them, feeling them; attempting to decipher who they are, only to become thoroughly confused. What they are saying is not the energy they are emitting…there is discord within; they are presenting a facade. It was a long road to finally understand her gift, her power for seeing beyond the “wool” to the “real”. It took her years to figure out that most people have a veneer, that they present who they think you think they are; they are not authentic. At first she took offense, as if their dissonance was because of who she was, as being real is often mistaken for brash, brazen; uncouth. It was not until she was asked to display a front “because of what others might think” that she understood; be what you think is expected of you, not who you are.
She attempted to participate, choosing the most beautiful mask and being what she thought everyone wanted her to be. She could not abide by those rules, the masquerade ball was nothing but a mire of contradictions that left her with unfulfilled expectations, for she was under the impression that you do what you say, if it comes from behind a mask or not; she was wrong.
She does not have many friends, as she tires of trying to work though the smoke and mirrors, she tires of not being taken at her word; she tires of hearing one thing and feeling another…the pretense makes her sick to her stomach. She tires of tip toeing around fragile people, tires of stroking false egos, tires of digging for their truth when they themselves do not even remember what it is. She now can see through the masks so chooses not to participate, chooses to call out some and leave others to wear their disguise. She does not fear walking the path, to show her face in its originality, her soul in its ancientness; to revel in the ease of allowing herself to “become”.
photo credit: Lady Vic