I'm prompted to write on a number of fronts: one, a personal one. I'm touched by the sheer glee of a six-year-old in a lion suit shouting, "Twik or treat!" and eagerly awaiting a mini-Mars bar or a miniature box of Dots. Does anyone remember Dots, the precursor to gummy bears? I do. Fondly. And that, in itself dates me. But, I digress. That's another post for another time.
From a professional perspective, Halloween's masked marauders bring to mind Swiss psychologist Carl Jung and his concept of the persona: the social face the individual presents to the world, "a kind of mask, designed on the one hand to make a definite impression on others, and on the other to conceal the true nature of the individual." Carl Jung, 1953.
More simply put, our persona is the mask we wear the other 364 days of the year.
I think about how we all--ok, most of us--generally, usually--ok, sometimes!--want the approval or least the acceptance of others. Seventh grade--any seventh grade--provides some of the earliest and most definitive evidence of personas at work. It's the class system of middle school. Seventh graders work hard to begin to define themselves--for themselves and their peers.
To that end, we, as seventh graders, gravitate toward the styles (think 1967: wide-wale cords, white vinyl boots), phrases (1989: "Don't be a butthead"), trends (2004: Hello Kitty!), pop idols (2010: Justin Beber?), and "coolness" (sorry, my persona in 7th grade verged on the brainy/nerd--I couldn't comment on what "cool" could possibly be). And so it went.
As we age and, arguably, mature, our personas--the face we want the world to see and accept--also change. Often, we seek to define ourselves with our work and our possessions. No, you say? I'm an individual you say. Ok. Absolutely. But, think about it: Are you Apple, or a PC? iPhone or Android? BMW or Prius? Even the staunchest individuals make choices. Choices that say things about us. Intentionally or not.
Jung felt that those intentional choices contributed to our personas. What we choose to wear. Where we hang out. Who we hang out with. How we'd like the rest of the world to perceive us.
Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against personas whatsoever. It's part and parcel of what makes us interesting, engaging, complex--and human.
I raise the concept--at Halloween especially--only to point out that sometimes, like at Halloween, we spend a lot of time and effort crafting and constructing our costume. And, sometimes, maintaining that persona can become not only exhausting, but also distressing. Destructive. And defeating.
When maintaining the mask becomes distressing, it's time to take another look at the price we're putting on acceptance, and maybe, just maybe look at the person we are behind the persona.
I'm the first to acknowledge that self-reflection can be unsettling. But, when, over time, you couple introspection with a growing approval of who you really are--of the person you are--the need to guild the mask may become less important. You may discover, over time, that you find satisfaction in your own self-approval. Maybe the rest of the world will like you, too. Just as you are. If not, maybe that's not the end of the world after all.
Right now, I'm taking satisfaction from the last of the mini Three Musketeer bars. Yes, it's pure sugar and probably not a "good choice" for me for a whole host of reasons. So be it. I am working on incorporating the truths of an occasional piece of candy, a weekly Bacon Egg & Cheese McGriddle, moderate amounts of butter, not margarine, and a slightly larger waistline than 10 years ago--I'm working on incorporating those truths of my personhood into my persona. I'm working on putting the person--not so much the persona--out there. And, of course, Jung might say that's my persona.
My clients tell me it can be really freeing to "let down my guard," to devote less energy to "maintaining the image," to just "put myself out there."
It can, as my clients also find, require the courage just to be yourself. Like the six-year-old in the lion suit, unabashedly screaming, "Trick or treat!"
But, as another lion, the lion in The Wizard of Oz found out, that courage just may be inside of us all along. Roar.
Happy Halloween.
Until next time, thanks for listening.
More simply put, our persona is the mask we wear the other 364 days of the year.
I think about how we all--ok, most of us--generally, usually--ok, sometimes!--want the approval or least the acceptance of others. Seventh grade--any seventh grade--provides some of the earliest and most definitive evidence of personas at work. It's the class system of middle school. Seventh graders work hard to begin to define themselves--for themselves and their peers.
To that end, we, as seventh graders, gravitate toward the styles (think 1967: wide-wale cords, white vinyl boots), phrases (1989: "Don't be a butthead"), trends (2004: Hello Kitty!), pop idols (2010: Justin Beber?), and "coolness" (sorry, my persona in 7th grade verged on the brainy/nerd--I couldn't comment on what "cool" could possibly be). And so it went.
As we age and, arguably, mature, our personas--the face we want the world to see and accept--also change. Often, we seek to define ourselves with our work and our possessions. No, you say? I'm an individual you say. Ok. Absolutely. But, think about it: Are you Apple, or a PC? iPhone or Android? BMW or Prius? Even the staunchest individuals make choices. Choices that say things about us. Intentionally or not.
Jung felt that those intentional choices contributed to our personas. What we choose to wear. Where we hang out. Who we hang out with. How we'd like the rest of the world to perceive us.
Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against personas whatsoever. It's part and parcel of what makes us interesting, engaging, complex--and human.
I raise the concept--at Halloween especially--only to point out that sometimes, like at Halloween, we spend a lot of time and effort crafting and constructing our costume. And, sometimes, maintaining that persona can become not only exhausting, but also distressing. Destructive. And defeating.
When maintaining the mask becomes distressing, it's time to take another look at the price we're putting on acceptance, and maybe, just maybe look at the person we are behind the persona.
I'm the first to acknowledge that self-reflection can be unsettling. But, when, over time, you couple introspection with a growing approval of who you really are--of the person you are--the need to guild the mask may become less important. You may discover, over time, that you find satisfaction in your own self-approval. Maybe the rest of the world will like you, too. Just as you are. If not, maybe that's not the end of the world after all.
Right now, I'm taking satisfaction from the last of the mini Three Musketeer bars. Yes, it's pure sugar and probably not a "good choice" for me for a whole host of reasons. So be it. I am working on incorporating the truths of an occasional piece of candy, a weekly Bacon Egg & Cheese McGriddle, moderate amounts of butter, not margarine, and a slightly larger waistline than 10 years ago--I'm working on incorporating those truths of my personhood into my persona. I'm working on putting the person--not so much the persona--out there. And, of course, Jung might say that's my persona.
My clients tell me it can be really freeing to "let down my guard," to devote less energy to "maintaining the image," to just "put myself out there."
It can, as my clients also find, require the courage just to be yourself. Like the six-year-old in the lion suit, unabashedly screaming, "Trick or treat!"
But, as another lion, the lion in The Wizard of Oz found out, that courage just may be inside of us all along. Roar.
Happy Halloween.
Until next time, thanks for listening.
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