Several years ago, my high school speech instructor introduced me to a powerful poem entitled “Please Hear What I’m Not Saying”. Mr. Bennetts is probably the first person who really challenged me to consider the importance of self-awareness and its impact upon living and leading with meaning and purpose. I liken the removal of the masks described in the poem to the ascent out of Plato’s cave. Though we may believe that paying attention to the shadows and creating masks to hide behind may keep us safe, ultimately, we are relinquishing our opportunity to allow the truth of things to liberate us and to grow as leaders. As you contemplate the nature of those with whom you surround yourself consider this: How many people within my organization know me? Why am I creating masks to hide behind? What do I fear? Why? What types of risks are involved in the removal of my masks? What are the benefits of removing my masks and allowing people to see me?
Thanks, Mr. Bennetts!
Please Hear What I’m Not Saying
Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I wear. For I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I’m afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that is second nature to me, but don’t be fooled. I give the impression that I am secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness is my game–’ that the water is calm and I’m in command, and that I need no one. But don’t believe me. Please. My surface may be smooth, but my surface is my mask. Beneath lies no smugness, no complacency. Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness. But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear of being exposed That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant, sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only salvation. And I know it. That is, if it is followed by acceptance. It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers that I painstakingly erect. It’s the only thing that will assure me of what I can’t assure myself, that I’m really worth something. But I don’t tell you this. I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love. I’m afraid you’ll think less of me, that you’ll laugh, and your laugh will wound me. I’m afraid that deep down, I’m not much, and you will see this and reject me. So I play my game, my pretending game, behind a facade of assurance. So when I’m going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I’m saying. Please listen, listen carefully, and try to hear what I’m not saying, what I’d like to be able to say, but can’t. Who am I you may wonder. I am someone you know very well, Every man and every woman you will ever meet.
Original Poem by Charles C. Finn
September 1966
