The True Self and The False Self

Week Thirty-Four Summary

True Self and False Self
Saturday, August 29, 2026

Sunday
Jesus and most other great spiritual teachers make it very clear that there is a self that has to be found and one that has to be let go of or even “renounced.” —Richard Rohr

Monday
The true self is the Divine Indwelling, the Holy Spirit within us. The true self is precisely the divine part of us that is great enough, deep enough, gracious enough to fully accept the human part of us.
—Richard Rohr

Tuesday
Our false self is not our bad self, our inherently deceitful self, the self that God does not like or we should not like. Actually, our false self is quite good and necessary as far as it goes. It just does not go far enough, and it often poses and substitutes for the real thing.
—Richard Rohr

Wednesday
The art of soulmaking is taking our lives in our hands and—with all the love and discernment we can muster—gently whittling away the parts that don’t resemble the True Self. —Sue Monk Kidd

Thursday
At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives. —Thomas Merton

Friday
The true self is who you are because of the divine indwelling, the Holy Spirit within you (Romans 8:9). We are all temples of God, says Paul (1 Corinthians 3:16). —Richard Rohr

Week Thirty-Four Practice: Seeing Behind the Mask

Buddhist teacher Tara Brach tells a story to awaken us to the ways we confuse our true self with the masks we wear:

There’s a joke I like to tell my classes when we’re looking at the question of identity: A man arrives at work one morning, late for an office meeting. “Where’ve you been?” his boss asks. The man answers, “I just saw a clown outside in front of the building.” One of his colleagues asks: “Well, was it a real clown, or just a person dressed up as a clown?”

When I share this in a class, there’s usually a brief pause—I can hear the wheels turning—and then laughter. We all get it. There’s the mask and there’s the person behind the mask, and sometimes they get conflated.

The word “person” is derived from the ancient Greek term persona, which referred to the masks actors wore to represent certain humans, animals, or gods.

In our daily lives, we habitually put on our own personas to suit particular situations. But unlike the actors and audience in ancient Greece who knew these were masks to be removed after the performance, we often get identified with our personas.

We might routinely present the knowledgeable, capable mask or the anxious, insecure mask. A coworker might be wearing the judgmental, angry mask.

Our core personas are made up of our deepest fears and earliest defenses, and rather than knowing how to put them aside, we often come to believe they are who we really are.

If we move through life trapped behind these masks, we miss out on connection and intimacy with our world. In relating to ourselves and others, we forget the awareness and love that animates our true being.

The blessing of remembering comes with mindful awareness as we witness the changing thoughts, feelings, and emotions that live through us. In the stillness and clarity of presence, we see our masks for what they are: temporary (and sometimes useful) personas but not our essential Being.

And with presence we see past the masks of others to the consciousness looking out through their eyes, the tenderness residing in their hearts.