Can I Put A Mask On My 1 Year Old Being Real – How to Create a Better Relationship and Still Be Successful at Work

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Being Real – How to Create a Better Relationship and Still Be Successful at Work

My friend is a gay, South African, Jewish and Hindu priest. When he becomes a priest, he is not gay. When he’s gay, he’s not a priest. When he does Jewish, it’s something else. However, under all these labels, it is totally authentic. The key is that none of the roles are sticky. He knows himself very well and is not so much a prisoner of the different masks that he cannot remove them. He knows, under all these public faces, who he really is. Naturally.

We build these masks because people are judgmental and without the facade they might just throw the message away. I’ve worked with some amazing rock stars and the person I meet is the complete opposite of the person they portray on stage.

Authenticity doesn’t mean coplanar and boring as hell. It means we can transform, adapt, put on the different masks that help people convey the message we share, however, problems become disasters if we think those masks are real.

When I was 5, I idolized Superman. At that time, we read about him in the comics. One day I put on a clean pair of underwear, a little white sleeveless singlet, tied a dish towel around my shoulders to make a cape, stood on the back of a lounge chair, and I jumped headfirst out of the second story window of my Nanna’s house.

I woke up in the doctor’s office when the excruciating pain of having my broken nose put back in place shot through my body. Blood everywhere, I hadn’t stolen. And luckily for me, I had come downstairs and broke my nose on the front windowsill rather than after leaving the room.

I carry this reminder now, externally at least, 3 major operations inside my sinuses restored my ability to breathe through my nose. It’s a stark reminder, that I’d better, unlike my gay, South African, Jewish and Hindu priest, take off the tags and masks at the end of the day.

I confess that this childhood experience did not translate into this message until 30 years later, but, in retrospect, the lesson was there, if I wanted to learn it.

When people ask me, “So Chris, what do you do?” I have always shivered. I stumbled through the complexity of mental noise that created my Ego facade, my identity. “Oh, I’m a Christian, oh, I’m a Buddhist, oh, I’m an entrepreneur, oh, I’m a spiritual teacher, oh, I’m an engineer, oh, I’m a business magnate Porsche driver.” Cripies, what a workload it all is.

Not that any of these were fake, but I mistook those brand labels for authenticity. I had put on clothes but I couldn’t remember who I was before decorating myself on these facades.

No one is a Christian, but some people believe in Christianity. No one is a Buddhist, but some people believe in Buddhism. No one is a Porsche driving contractor, but some people drive Porsches and do contractor work. Labeling ourselves with beliefs, ideologies, occupations and any form of mathematical labeling reveals how separate we are from God or ourselves.

That’s why self-help doesn’t work. Eventually people realize that there is no self that needs help, only the facade needs help and it’s like a cat chasing its tail.

I loved my first real business as a newborn. I loved the brand. I loved what we stood for, I loved our design, I believed in our product and invested our family’s life savings to become the Australian licensee.

We built a factory, hired people, made money. I trained, practiced, learned, respected and believed in what I was doing, because I loved this product and what it did for my clients.

I was uncertain about the future of it, so I remained detached from it. I poured my heart and soul into making it work, but the company wasn’t me, and I wasn’t the company. Who wants to attach themselves to a ship that could sink?

And, because I was not attached to it, because I liked this product and the brand, my customers liked this product and the brand. You can’t fake that kind of detachment. The success of my business was guaranteed. He grew up, he grew up and he grew up.

When I met my first wife, I was really in love with her. I couldn’t get attached to her because she was an independent person who made choices beyond my control. And because I was detached from her, I totally loved her with all my heart and soul. Then we got together and ruined everything. The more the certainty of our destiny together has arrived, the more I have become attached, the more attached we are to someone, the less we can truly love him.

Eventually my business, my job in the business, my ability to handle the stress of my job got over me, and then I hated it. I blamed everything for this change, but I was really stuck 5 years behind the company. I then lost confidence in myself and ultimately in the brand.

The more the company grew, and the more I had the certainty that there was a future in the company, the more I had attachment between the company and me.

While in the beginning I would go home to my wife and say “I worked in the company today” and despite the hardships I felt nurtured by the effort, I finally came home and said “I I’m doing great, my business is growing.” I lost the ability to take off the costume and put on the lover’s clothes.

My wife lost her partner and gained an entrepreneur. My identity was attached to this company, just as, as a child, I was attached to Superman. Now I was really drunk. When business went up, I went up, when business went down, I went down, and I mean that has a double meaning, if you know what I mean.

Surgeons do skin grafts. They take a piece of plastic or real skin and place it over a wound. The imported skin ends up meshing with the real skin and bingo, you can barely see the difference.

When I became attached to my business and started to identify with it, I did a “life transplant”.

I grafted a fake identity with the real me and got a new result, look good, feel good. And as things continued to go up, it was a great and brilliant partnership. To me.

But for my family, for my wife, for my health, and everyone else who depended on me to show up in my other costumes, I just couldn’t take off the business owner costume. It’s like standing on top of a mountain looking at the view wondering how much it would cost to buy Mount Everest. It’s just ugly.

More than ugly, it’s totally painful. Both for the person stuck in the costume and for those around them.

So I went from Superman, street gang member, sports champion, to husband, businessman and wealthy entrepreneur. Soon I would be the ex-divorced businessman, the ex-sports hero, the poor failed entrepreneur. Tied like a yoyo on a string, my “life transplants” stole the happiness from all that I have done.

“You don’t look too happy Chris,” people would say that unsolicited. Shit, I really thought I could fake it. But the same thing happened at home. My wife said, “Don’t you look happy, Chris?”

I ran around looking for the bastard running past me telling people before I arrived, but there was none.

While the future remained uncertain, I remained humble, detached and therefore able to invest myself body and soul in everything I undertook, 1000%. But the minute it started to show signs of success, I would do a “life transplant” and attach myself to what it was, including my children, and steal the joy.

My children were born 3 years apart. The first, Simon was the scary experience of my life. It was a normal birth, but from the moment he appeared on earth, I counted his every breath. I loved him because I couldn’t get attached to him.

I had no experience with babies, and so every second he existed was a miracle. This was made worse by the fact that he fell from the car cradle and hit his head on the curb when we brought him home from the hospital on the 4th day of his life. If I ever had to remember the vulnerability of life, that was it.

And because I was vulnerable, because his life wasn’t guaranteed, I couldn’t bond with him. I could only love him. Love like I’ve never known. At that moment I knew there was a God.

Six months later, Simon was a healthy, loud, hungry, laughing, pooping baby. His life had become more predictable and therefore had more potential for attachment.

I was about to do another life transplant when my ex-wife stepped in and reminded me that she, rather than me, had grafted it onto her flesh, it was time for me to go back to the work. It was the greatest of blessings even though it didn’t seem so good at the time.

Stephanie was the third child. By the time she arrived, we were pretty confident about her journey and so, the second she was born, I grew attached to her. I didn’t understand the difference between love and attachment, so I grafted it onto my skin.

A proud father suddenly, after two boys, completely lost his objectivity, clung to her with every breath, ups and downs. I couldn’t separate, it became an arm wrestle between his mother and me, and I lost. Again, a great blessing to learn to love without attachment.

These days I’m like Joseph in the Old Testament with his coat of many colors. I have work color, play color, lover color, sports color, money color, social responsibility color and my spiritual color.

I can take them off and put them back on whenever I want because I know how to go to the top of a mountain, take the whole coat off and just be in silence, connected to all of nature without identity, opinion, belief, thought, idea, expectation. In this state, I have no skin to graft, I have no attachment to doing things well, no need to be a “something”. It’s just a moment to be.

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