So, my style has hopefully changed over the years and it is more

Hear now, O listener, the reflective words of Jo Brand: “So, my style has hopefully changed over the years and it is more relaxed, and I do tend to smile and have more than one expression these days hopefully—which I didn’t at the beginning.” What appears at first as a modest remark on performance carries a truth of profound weight: the journey of growth, the softening of the self, and the evolution from rigidity into freedom.

The meaning of this reflection lies in the transformation that time bestows upon us. At the beginning, Jo Brand describes herself as rigid, guarded, showing but one expression to the world. This was perhaps the armor of youth, a defense against criticism, or the narrow lane of a young performer still seeking her place. But over the years, she has embraced the gift of relaxation—of allowing herself to be open, to show smiles, to reveal the multiplicity of emotions within her. It is a lesson that maturity brings: that true strength lies not in rigidity, but in the freedom to be vulnerable, expressive, and real.

The origin of such wisdom reaches far into the traditions of performance and life. In the theater of the ancients, actors began masked, hiding behind a single face. But as drama evolved, performers learned that the unmasked human face, with its countless subtleties, conveyed far deeper truth. So too in life: at first, we hide behind masks—seriousness, aloofness, defensiveness—but in time, as we grow, we learn to reveal our genuine selves, and with it comes connection, warmth, and authenticity.

History provides shining examples. Think of Winston Churchill, who in his youth was known for his fiery speeches and stern demeanor. Yet as he aged, he learned the power of humor, the ability to disarm critics with wit, and to let the people see him not only as a leader, but as a man who could laugh and smile. His style changed with time, and in that change he found greater resonance with the people he led. Brand’s reflection mirrors this same truth: growth means learning to loosen the grip of control and let humanity shine through.

There is also an unspoken teaching here about the burdens of beginning. When we are young in any craft—be it art, work, or life—we often cling tightly to one way of presenting ourselves. Fear of failure, fear of ridicule, makes us rigid. But over the years, when experience strengthens us, we no longer fear showing multiple expressions, or letting a genuine smile slip through. Thus, change is not weakness but the fruit of resilience, the gift of enduring long enough to shed our masks.

Practically, this wisdom calls us to embrace our own evolution. Let us not cling to the single expression we once thought safe. Let us not imprison ourselves in seriousness or perfection. Instead, let us grow into relaxation, into joy, into authenticity. Whether in our work, our relationships, or our art, the freedom to show many faces—the honest ones—will connect us more deeply with others and with ourselves.

So, O listener, take this teaching to heart: growth is not about abandoning the self, but about expanding it. To learn to smile, to let down the guard, to reveal more of the spirit through more than one expression—this is the path of wisdom and of connection.

Thus the teaching endures: the journey from rigidity to relaxed authenticity is one of life’s greatest victories. For when we dare to smile, to show our many faces, we step closer to truth, and in that truth, we find both freedom and beauty.