A letter from Albert Einstein to his daughter, Lieserl, who donated 1,400 letters written by him to the Hebrew University, with orders not to publish them until 20 years after his death.This is one of them, to her.When I proposed the theory of relativity very few understood me. What I will reveal now to mankind will also collide with the misunderstanding and prejudice in the world.I ask you to guard the letters as long as necessary, decades, until society is advanced enough to accept what I will explain below.There is an extremely powerful force that, so far, science has not found a formal explanation to. It is a force that includes and governs all others, and is even behind any phenomenon operating in the universe, and has not yet been identified by us. This universal force is LOVE.When scientists looked for a unified theory of the universe they forgot the most powerful unseen force. Love is Light, that enlightens those who give and receive it. Love is gravity, because it makes some people feel attracted to others. Love is power, because it multiplies the best we have, and allows humanity not to be extinguished in their blind selfishness. Love unfolds and reveals. For love we live and die. Love is God and God is Love.This force explains everything and gives meaning to life. This is the variable that we have ignored for too long, maybe because we are afraid of love, because it is the only energy in the universe that man has not learned to drive at will.To give visibility to love, I made a simple substitution in my most famous equation. If instead of E = mc2, we accept that the energy to heal the world can be obtained through love, multiplied by the speed of light squared, we arrive at the conclusion that love is the most powerful force there is, because it has no limits.After the failure of humanity in the use and control of the other forces of the universe that have turned against us, it is urgent that we nourish ourselves with another kind of energyIf we want our species to survive, if we are to find meaning in life, if we want to save the world and every sentient being that inhabits it, love is the one and only answer.Perhaps we are not yet ready to make a bomb of love, a device powerful enough to entirely destroy the hate, selfishness and greed that devastate the planet.However, each individual carries within them a small but powerful generator of love, whose energy is waiting to be released.When we learn to give and receive this universal energy, dear Lieserl, we will have affirmed that love conquers all, is able to transcend everything and anything, because love is the quintessence of life.I deeply regret not having been able to express what is in my heart, which has quietly beaten for you all my life. Maybe it’s too late to apologize, but as time is relative, I need to tell you that I love you, and thanks to you I have reached the ultimate answer! “.Your father,Albert EinsteinHmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. . .
kind of makes you think
that everything’s not so relative. . .
IT IS MORE
. . .SO MUCH MOREwhich means
which means
we can meet in the land of MUCH MORE
living as Caring Catalysts
who all understand and teach
Life is short, 🔴 ⚫ 🔴
and we have too little time
to gladden the hearts of those
who travel the journey with us.
So be swift to love,
and make haste to be kind.
🔴 Henri-Frédéric Amiel
Swiss Writer 1821-1881
SILENT NIGHT
MERRY THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS. . .
Here’s hoping your lights are still twinkling
you leftovers are still warm and tasty
you joy is still contagious
Years ago, Paul Simon was asked to name a song he wished he had written. The song he chose was “Silent Night.”
“Silent Night?” Really? But that wasn’t even a hit, ever. Was it?
Actually, yes. In 1935.
The story starts long before that, though. It starts with a poem written by Father Joseph Mohr in 1816, an assistant priest in Mariapfarr, Austria. Written in German, it was called “Stille Nacht.”
Two years later he was the priest of the St. Nicholas parish church in Oberndorf, a village near Salzburg. On the day of Christmas Eve, 1818, he asked organist Franz Gruber to compose a melody for his poem. Because the recent flooding of the Salzach river damaged the church organ, it was unsure if it would be usable in time for Mass, so Mohr requested that Gruber write a guitar accompaniment for it that he could it.
The melody that Gruber composed is a beautiful, poignant one, with the simplicity of a folk song. That simplicity — using only the fundamental changes (I, IV, V and VI) — seems to have been shaped by Gruber’s use of guitar. Had he composed it for organ, he might have created a far more complex melody, and one remembered and cherished by none. But the purity of this melody, with the beautifully holy words written by Father Mohr, resounds like a hymn.
That church was ultimately subsumed completely by the river and replaced with a church named after the famous song which was born there.
In 1935, Bing Crosby recorded it, and sold over ten million copies of it. “Silent Night” was a hit.
In 1966, Simon and Garfunkel recorded a version of the song for their album Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, called “Silent Night/ 7 O’Clock News.” In perfect two-part harmony, they sing the song to a piano accompaniment. Into that song bleeds the sound of a news announcer bringing news of the day, thus creating a sound collage of peace set against modern times. That news was actually scripted and read by Charlie O’Donnell, who was a radio DJ then and became the announcer on many TV game shows, including The Wheel of Fortune.
Topics covered in the lyrics which painted the summer of 1966 include the death of Lenny Bruce in Hollywood, a march in Cicero, Illinois by Martin Luther King, Jr., the indictment of Richard Speck for murder, and more. The full text is included below.
Simon and Garfunkel’s rendition of the song is simple and beautiful. Back in the day, we loved this version, merging in radical 60s style the hymn with the modern world. But we yearned to hear it without Charlie talking over it. Of course, back then that was impossible. Not anymore. Here’s the full text:
This is the early evening edition of the news.
The recent fight in the House of Representatives was over the open housing section of the Civil Rights Bill. Brought traditional enemies together but it left the defenders of the measure without the votes of their strongest supporters. President Johnson originally proposed an outright ban covering discrimination by everyone for every type of housing but it had no chance from the start and everyone in Congress knew it.
A compromise was painfully worked out in the House Judiciary Committee. In Los Angeles today comedian Lenny Bruce died of what was believed to be an overdoes of narcotics. Bruce was 42 years old.
Dr. Martin Luther King says he does not intend to cancel plans for an open housing march Sunday into the Chicago suburb of Cicero. Cook County Sheriff Richard Ogleby asked King to call off the march and the police in Cicero said they would ask the National Guard to be called out if it is held. King, now in Atlanta, Georgia, plans to return to Chicago Tuesday.
In Chicago Richard Speck, accused murderer of nine student nurses, was brought before a grand jury today for indictment. The nurses were found stabbed an strangled in their Chicago apartment.
In Washington the atmosphere was tense today as a special subcommittee of the House Committee on Un-American activities continued its probe into anti- Viet nam war protests. Demonstrators were forcibly evicted from the hearings when they began chanting anti-war slogans.
Former Vice-President Richard Nixon says that unless there is a substantial increase in the present war effort in Viet nam, the U.S. should look forward to five more years of war. In a speech before the Convention of the Veterans of Foreign Wars in New York, Nixon also said opposition to the war in this country is the greatest single weapon working against the U.S.
That’s the 7 o’clock edition of the news, Goodnight.
Silent night Holy night
All is calm All is bright
Round yon virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.
So what of this first day after Christmas
or all of the days that’ll follow it from now
and Christmas’ to come. . .
WHAT OF IT, INDEED
Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
WE ARE THE LYRICS OF THE SONG
THAT NEEDS SINGING
HEARD
ADAPTED
for a Heavenly Peace we not only yearn to sleep within
but refuse to live
w i t h o u t
MERRY CHRISTMAS
(again)
(and many agains too numerous to count)
AT THIS TABLE
It’s Christmas Eve
tomorrow
we will begin gather around
the many Holiday tables
that aren’t always
so nicely set;
The Pandemic limited us
but sometimes there are things that separate us
. . .that keep us from being with one another
that we can’t blame any disease
that literally keeps the holidays
UN-happening. . .
Maybe now more than ever
There still is
THE TABLE
before us
inviting us to gather around it. . .
and it’s not so much as who’s at your table
as maybe who’s been
un-invited
un-wanted. . .
What gets us all
AT THE TABLE
is not our
once-upon-a-time
lockdowns
or
ever to present
f l a w l e s s n e s s e s
but the
jumbled
tumbled
Up Messes
we all are
while we still manage to
S H I N E
Pull up a Chair. . .
there’s plenty of room at
T H E
T A B L E
(MOST ESPECIALLY NOW)
and it’s always so less
. . .so very much less
when not
E V E R Y O N E
is
T H E R E
THE ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS
DO YOU REMEMBER THIS. . . ?
It came out in 2001 and I remember watching it with my kids and laughing with them and wondering are toys the only things that are
M I S F I T S. . .
Go ahead, watch it again
and catch some of the things you most likely didn’t notice
or maybe just glossed over
OR MAYBE
just didn’t want to see or recognize. . .
It’s odd
This version of
RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSE REINDEER AND THE ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS
What about the bad guy named Mr. Cuddles, who kidnaps toys so kids will never outgrown them. Or, the blimp, a hippopotamus queen, all with Rudolph thinking about getting a nose job. Rudolph and his friends show up at this misfit island, where they meet a cast of quirky toys, sequestered away in their shame. There’s a CHARLIE-IN-THE-BOX, a bird that swims, and a cowboy who rides an ostrich. And yes, there is a chorus of music that kind of normalizes it like all music tries to do. They real each attribute that, in their own minds, gives them oddball status: There’s a spotted elephant, a choo-choo with square wheels, and a water pistol that shoots jelly. Together, wail about their quirks through song and proclaim, not so proudly,
“We’re all misfits!”
Now here’s the thing, I think this part was suppose to be sad, but I kind of missed the memo when I was watching this. A happy little island of honest misfits sounded like paradise to me. Can you imagine belonging to a community like that? Those who wouldn’t bother hiding THEIR WEIRD?
Wait. . .WHAT. . .
Oh, you’re a bird that swims in water? Well, Yippee! I ride an ostrich! You feel weird about your polka-dot skin? Well, check out my square wheels chugging down an off the track trail!
Seriously, in what universe would this be considered exile? These misfits have found their people! A truer tragedy would be faking perfect, hiding your spots, and trying to conform. The misfit toys have created a hopeful haven, and it’s what I kind of pray to discover; to have for myself and you, others. . .
That by just showing up each day, BOLDLY BROKEN,
your very own island might form or maybe, just maybe
we discover that we’ve never
NOT BEEN A PART OF IT ALL ALONG
All the same. . .
JOIN ME
R E C O G N I Z E
just how
W E I R D L Y
we are so much more alike
THAN NOT. . .
YOU BETTER WATCH OUT
DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEE
DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR
DO YOU FEEL WHAT I FEEL
DO YOU TASTE WHAT I TASTE
DO YOU SMELL WHAT I SMELL
ALL GOOD QUESTIONS
with even better answers
S E R I O U S L Y
you better watch out
because what we
s e e
isn’t always really what is ever seen. . .
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
A KINDLY KIND-OF-NESS
It’s a great Friday Blog Question:
IS IT POSSIBLE TO BE KIND TO EVERYTHING. . . ?
or to poetically put it:
CAN KINDNESS BE BROUGHT TO AN EVERYTHINGNESS. . .
Driving
Defensively
Looking for hazards
Watching for water filled potholes
He appeared across my windshield
Inside
Traversing it’s clear continent
Owning it
Like an unexplored universe
Not yet known
Discovered
Far from knowing
He could be exterminated
Crushed not so carefully
From a runaway McDonald’s napkin
Snuggled between the car seat
But when arriving safely to my destination
We both escaped from unknown dangers
Never to be seen/known
By the other
Still alive
For a time
A Kindly Kind-of-ness
Without a sacred
all relieving
Gratitude
Unoffered
But received
(With a Praise to be to the Universe Creator for not allowing it to be snake)
NEIGHBOR (WON’T YOU BE MINE?)
I grew up in Washington, PA just about 30 miles south of Pittsburgh in an age where you had 3 channels on the TV and the PBS Channel. . .and that’s the one that Mr Rogers owned; I usually would be ‘watching’ my two younger brothers before dinner as my mom and sister were setting the table and putting the finishing touches on our meal.
Just say the word, NEIGHBOR and the first thing that comes to my mind, is Mr. Rogers and his little jingle as he was changing into his sweater and getting into the meat of his show.
When I watched this new video by J J Heller it took me right back to our living room with the smell of meatloaf and mashed potatoes battling the warm smell of a cake my mom had baked and just freshly applied her whipped icing.
J J reminisces too:
“I watched a Mr. Rogers clip the other day that made me cry.
He said, “You know the toughest thing is to love somebody who has done something mean to you… it’s very important to look inside yourself and find that loving part of you. That’s the part that you must take good care of and never be mean to, because that’s the part of you that allows you to love your neighbor. And your neighbor is anyone you happen to be with any time of your life.”
I’m sure I won’t get it right every time, but I don’t want to stop trying.
I hope you don’t stop trying either.
“When the chasm between us feels so wide
That it’s hard to imagine the other side
But we don’t have to see things eye to eye
For me to love you like
You are my neighbor”
TO LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF
sometimes scares a lot of
N E I G H B O R S
. . well,
because sometimes
we just don’t love ourselves all that good. . .
but here, now,
may we love ourselves and our neighbors better;
may we tune in
and hear a humble, sincere invitation:
The GIFTED GIFT
THE GIFT
When it’s not so much
Given
Received
Benefitted
But
SHARED
as it
O n c e
Was shared
FIRST
Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
WHAT GIFT WILL YOU GIVE
WHAT GIFT WILL YOU BE
THAT WILL NOT ONLY
L I T E R A L L Y
CHANGE A LIFE
BUT
LIFETIMES TO COME
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm:
That’s so much more than a holiday/Christmas
kind of a question
ESPECIALLY
SINCE YOU ARE
SO MUCH MORE
THAN AN ANSWER. . .
A GULP OF KINDNESS
And just like
T H A T
we are quickly into the Season of Auld Lang Syne
and hopefully doing just a little bit more than raising a
CUP OF KINDNESS
as we take a sip
and share a Gulp. . .
I recently re-read the Commencement Address author George Saunders gave which reads well in all Seasons, as each day brings us to a Commencement Ceremony. He shares:
What I Regret Most Are Failures of Kindness
(–by George Saunders, syndicated from theladders.com, Jul 28, 2018)
Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).
And I intend to respect that tradition.
Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.
So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs […] Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.
But here’s something I do regret:
In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.
So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” — that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”
Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.
And then — they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.
One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.
End of story.
Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.
But still. It bothers me.
So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:
What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.
Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded . . . sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.
Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in yourlife, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?
Those who were kindest to you, I bet.
It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.
Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?
Here’s what I think:
Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and (3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).
Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.
So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc?
Well, yes, good question.
Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.
So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition — recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.
Because kindness, it turns out, is hard — it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include . . . well, everything.
One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish — how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now.”
And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.
Congratulations, by the way.
When young, we’re anxious — understandably — to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you — in particular you, of this generation — may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can . . .
And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously — as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.
Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.
So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf — seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.
Do all the other things, the ambitious things — travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality — your soul, if you will — is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Teresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.
And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.
Congratulations, Class of 2013.
I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a beautiful summer.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Kind of makes you a little thirsty for a good gulp of Kindness
B O T H
one that refreshes as it renews
some much needed
and appreciated
K I N D N E S S
THE MASKS WE WEAR
THE CALENDAR MAY SAY
N O V E M B E R 2
but seriously. . .
IS HALLOWEEN EVER TRULY OVER
It could be argued
s u c c e s s f u l l y
that Halloween is the one day we celebrate
3 6 5
days a year. . .
Six Reasons Why Humans Wear Masks
THEY SAY:
Today, we wear masks to celebrate Halloween and ward off disease—but the mask has deep roots in human history. Here’s what masks mean to us.
The Daddy Shift, Are We Born Racist?, and (most recently) The Gratitude Project: How the Science of Thankfulness Can Rewire Our Brains for Resilience, Optimism, and the Greater Good. Before joining the GGSC, Jeremy was a John S. Knight Journalism Fellow at Stanford University. You can follow him on Twitter! He did some digging around the Halloween bin and found out some things about our Mask-wearing ways
edits the GGSC’s online magazine, Greater Good. He is also the author or coeditor of five books, includingThis Halloween, now a couple of days GONE, people in many places were wearing two kinds of masks: one to be scary, the other to protect themselves and others against COVID-19.
Yes, it was another pandemic Halloween—and while the masks we wear might seem weird, the really weird stuff is happening inside our heads. Masks have roots going back to at least Neolithic times, and they’re capable of pushing some deep evolutionary buttons, triggering fear, laughter, aggression, awe, and many more emotions. That’s a feature, not a bug, of masks.
Here’s a rundown of the reasons why human beings have crafted and worn masks for at least ten thousand years. These insights go a long way to explaining the way we celebrate Halloween, but they also suggest why masks have become such an emotional flashpoint in the COVID-19 pandemic.
1. For religious ritual
The 9,000-year-old mask found in the Hebron hills by a settler going for a walk.
Credit: Antiquities Theft Prevention Unit, Israel Antiquities Authority
When did human beings start wearing masks?
It’s hard to say, because the archeological record is so inherently murky; masks made in prehistoric times of leather or plants could not survive the centuries. In 2018, an Israeli settler found what is believed to be the oldest known mask in the world in the West Bank. Estimated to be ten millennia old, the stone face was almost certainly used in religious ritual as humanity transitioned from hunting and gathering to growing our own food—probably as part of ancestor worship, according to archeologists.
Similarly, in the Egypt of the pharaohs, masks were used to connect the dead with the living, making them a kind of conduit between this world and the next. Mummies were fitted with masks in the likeness of the deceased so that the soul could locate the right body, when the time came. Priests wore the heads of animals who represented their gods: a jackal for Anubis, god of death; a cat for Bastet, goddess of fertility and sexuality; a bird for Thoth, god of knowledge and of writing, which was then a cutting-edge technology. Throughout African history, masks have played a role in religious ceremonies. The Yoruba, Igbo, and Edo cultures of West Africa all held masquerades to commune with ancestors.
The Native Americans who lived along the west coast of North America devised incredibly clever, two-layered mechanical masks in which an outer animal face moved to reveal a human image. In other words, the mask was a way to reveal the essential oneness of humanity and the natural world.
2. In hunting
That human-animal connection led many ancient peoples to wear masks in hunting.
There is some evidence—mainly in petroglyphs—that early Stone Age hunters wore them in stalking prey. According to anthropologists, this was in part for camouflage; sometimes, the masks were made from the hide or fur of the prey to disguise the human scent.
However, masks that resembled the animal being hunted served psychological purposes, as well. They may have helped the hunter think like their prey. Hunters wore the masks in rituals performed before the hunt, and in dances and theatrical productions depicting their success. In some cultures, the masks were used to give the slain animal’s spirit a home, so that it would not return from the dead seeking revenge.
It’s a tradition that continues to this day, when hunting face masks help to keep the hunter warm and provide camouflage. While today’s hunting manuals may frame the mask as a practical necessity, it’s hard to avoid associations with atavistic practices.
3. In wars and in sports
Masks are ubiquitous in both ancient and modern warfare. As in hunting, they can serve two purposes, protective and psychological.
Helmets and masks might seem to have an obvious mission in warfare: to protect the human brain inside of them from enemies who aim to stop the brain from functioning. But the archeological and historical evidence suggests that the more important purpose was to scare the enemy.
War paint is a kind of mask, though it does little to protect the warrior. War masks existed in ancient Greece, Rome, and China, but they were often mounted on shields or armor instead of over faces. Japanese samuraiwore grimacing menpō—half masks covering the face below the eyes.
Today, the gas mask is the one we associate most closely with modern warfare. This image emerged with the use of chemical weapons during the first world war. Though its purpose is protective, the image still strikes fear into our hearts—and the gas mask is widely used as a symbol of apocalyptic warfare.
After that war, artists created “broken face” masks depicting war-ruined visages for books and films to help reveal its cost. Today, video games like “Call of Duty” feature a “ghost mask”—a skull over the face—but you can now buy a real one for cosplaying, paintball, or airsoft combat simulations.
In modern sports, fencers, baseball catchers, and skiers all wear masks intended to be protective. But the masks can still tap into feelings of fear by merely obscuring the face of an opponent, making them seem inhuman—which is why some hockey goalie masks are designed to look creepy, calling to mind characters from horror and superhero movies.
4. For performances
Onnamen are wooden masks of female faces, worn by men, which have been used since the 15th century in Japanese Noh theater.
Credit: Japanese Clothing
As we’ve seen so far, masks are fundamentally performative even in the most deadly real-life situations. It therefore makes intuitive sense that masks would migrate from religious ceremonies and warfare onto stages and ballrooms.
The theatrical mask emerged in the Greek city states, according to most evidence. At first, simple masks of goatskin or linen enabled priests to speak with the voice of a god in the temple, but when playwright-poets like Thespis started depicting such scenes on the stage, they became a literary device. As time went on, the masks of Greek theater became increasingly artistic and elaborate, often with built-in megaphones so that the audience could hear the actors.
Later in human history, masks appeared in Medieval “mystery plays” and the Renaissance-era commedia dell’arte, which applied Roman imagery to satirize contemporary manners. Lacquered, gilded masks are inherent to Noh drama in Japan, and they grew to encompass five distinct types: old persons, goddesses, gods, devils, and goblins. Within those types, masks are color-coded to characterize qualities like corruption and righteousness—foreshadowing modern efforts to scientifically map emotions on the human face.
5. During celebrations
Credit: Sean Fleming at Getty Imgaes
Inevitably, masks stepped back off the stage into the balls of Venice and Vienna, religious bacchanals like Mardi Gras—and celebrations like Halloween. Celtic pagans came to believe that ghosts came out as winter arrived, and they started wearing masks outside to avoid being recognized by dead relatives and enemies. The Roman Catholic Church co-opted these autumnal pagan beliefs into All Hallows or All Saints’ Day, which was intended to honor all the saints.
Today, secular Halloween is a big business and an annual part of many cultures. You can buy a costume off the rack or you can make your own—and on Halloween night, you can encounter anything on the street from a ghost in a simple white sheet to characters from the latest Hollywood blockbusters.
It’s all good fun, but behind the monster-masks deeper, darker traditions lurk. On Halloween, if you know what to look for, you can see masks that echo earlier times in human history, when we saw them as ways to survive violence and starvation, and to commune with gods, spirits, and animals.
6. For protection from disease
The masks of the Iroquois False Face Society were used in healing rituals.
Credit: Werner Forman / Getty Images
Masks have always been used to fight disease, though the reasoning has evolved quite a bit over the centuries.
In some cultures, for example, members would wear masks to drive disease out of their village. Members of the False Face Society of the Iroquois people wore grotesque masks made of horsehair and metal to drive away the demons of disease; there are similar traditions throughout Asia.
When the bubonic plague swept Europe in the Middle Ages, doctors supposedly wore beak-like masks filled with herbs and liquids intended (in some vague way) to protect them against “spoiled air” from the East that many thought caused the epidemic. In the 19th century, this instinct to cover the face against disease got some scientific validation through the work of scientists like Joseph Lister, Louis Pasteur, and (later) Carl Friedrich Flügge.
However, surgical masks were not widely used until the early 20th century, and they were not standard until the 1940s. During the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918–19—which killed an estimated 50 million people—masks became a point of conflict in western American cities. The “Anti-Mask League” formed in San Francisco, with members claiming that mask mandates infringed on their personal freedom.
“Some people argue against them because they say that they create fear in the public, and that we want to keep people calm,” notes historian Nancy Bristow, author of American Pandemic: The Lost Worlds of the 1918 Influenza Epidemic. Many of the same arguments emerged one hundred years later, when COVID-19 reached the United States—but the difference between then and now is that today, we have robust scientific consensus that widespread, correct use of masks prevents the spread of disease.
Unfortunately, all the evidence in the world can’t necessarily overcome the emotional distrust and anxiety masks induce in some people. Given what we know about the history of masks, this isn’t surprising. It’s also the case that the masks we wear to protect each other from COVID-19 break the link between our upper and lower faces, which makes it harder for us to identify people and their emotions. That can create an additional layer of anxiety.
Even so, studies conducted during the pandemic find that masks can actually increase social trust, because, write one group of researchers, “facemasks are taken as a proxy of social compliance and caring.” For that to happen, however, people need to understand that masks work as one way to help stop COVID-19.
On this year’s All Hallows Day, and now all the ones to follow, we’ll once again walk through a space where the mythical past meets the scientific present in the form of the masks we wear. These might not be the Halloweens we want, but they could end up being the most meaningful in our lifetimes.
Halloween Night
8:01 on a Halloween night
is a lonely time
Porch lights are switched off
Front doors are closed
and Jack o’lanterns hold candles
that flicker not much warmth or light
as it catches the wisp of a candy wrapper
its contents just eaten but barely digested
long before making it home
The wrapper tumbleweeds down the street
not much remembering the sweet preciousness
it once held and protected so dearly
Like most discarded wrappings
it enjoys the freedom as much as what
it once covered
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