The ancients understood something modern people often forget. A soul cannot walk naked through the world. To wear a mask was protection, transformation, and sometimes revelation. A mask allowed someone to step into a role larger than the self, to carry power that an ordinary face could not hold alone. What was hidden was revealed was not necessarily the whole truth. Across civilisations, masks were treated as sacred tools. The priests and performers of ancient Greece wore masks to embody gods, heroes and forces greater than any individual actor, allowing the audience to encounter something beyond a single human presence on stage. In ancient Egypt, funerary masks such as that of Tutankhamun served as a bridge between the mortal and the divine, preserving identity for a journey the living face could not make. Ritual masks appeared across countless cultures throughout the ancient world, allowing shamans, kings and initiates to assume identities that belonged the myth they carried. Perhaps this is why masks appear wherever wisdom grows old enough to need them. The face changes with every season of life, every duty, every initiation undergone. To cling to a single mask is a kind of imprisonment. To refuse all masks entirely is another. The wise learn to wear them consciously, remembering that behind every role stands something deeper, yet knowing that even the deepest self must sometimes be clothed before it can move through the world.