Is it my face I show to the world?
The Aztecs believed that as humans we are born faceless and have to gain our faces.
It seems to me that often we put on different "faces," desiring to hide, please or remain unknown.
Or is it that we can be scared of the face that we have gained?
This post is in the spirit of hallow's eve & day of the dead. Our faces express so much about us.
Admitting I was sad seemed less likely to harbor potential for rejection and yet admitting to sadness meant being deeply vulnerable.
I could not be vulnerable for I had learned it brought on shame and rejection. I wanted to belong. I wanted to just be me. I became scared of expressing myself.
Wanting to belong and at the same time unwilling to compromise.
I often saw "fakeness," and was unwilling to be inauthentic to fit in. It seemed I was a loner or had few friends. The few friends I had seemed to be missing the depth I so much desired.
I felt faceless even when I had a pretty face. I hid part of my face in bangs.
Our faces reveal plenty about us. We can look kind or uninviting....
We may not how we truly look unless we are mirrored by the person in front of us.
Do you remember as a child facial profiling adults?
I do, I remember being willing to approach and ask a question of those adults who looked gentle, kind, and caring. Then, there were those who looked like they were menacing or harsh.
Of course, sometimes faces are deceiving. Often, though there is some predictability to what we first spot on someone's face map.
It is interesting also that as we age our facial features harden while hopefully our hearts soften. Although sometimes I've seen the sweetest inviting faces in wrinkled faces. It is as if those wrinkles speak of many experiences that have now made their mark on those faces.
I look at pictures of my mother and see how quickly she aged. She was beautiful and had an endearing look. I grew up seeing her angry and sad. In the end all her sorrow and rage seemed transformed to gentleness and kindness. This is how I remember her as a spirit with a pretty face who weathered many trials.
None of us gets younger, so as I age I am embracing the roadways that will inevitably show on my face. Those age marks or wrinkles are evidence of frowns, tears shed, smiles and laughter.
Whatever faces I juggled, I now honor the face I have. My face is mine to honor for it reveals a part of my journey and continually transforms as I evolve.
How do we honor our face? We simply allow it to express what is alive in us.
We can unlearn and deprogram the societal standards and values of what is appropriate, beautiful, smart, etc. and simply uninhibitedly or spontaneously use our facial muscles as though we were children freely playing.
Juggling faces may sound fun, but is it?
When was the last time you made silly faces?
When was the last time you laughed so hard, you almost wet yourself?
When did you last mimic someone in front of you?
When was the last time you caressed your face?
When was the last time you gave your face a wink?
Dare you to honor the face you see in the mirror!