When we are not busy earning a living or cleaning the house or being spiritual, we sometimes go to the movies. It passes the time, usually entertains us, occasionally illuminates us. But if God asked us on Judgement Day what we did with the hours he gave us, very few of us would say, “Well, God, I went to the movies.” That just would not seem very central. Similarly, we wouldn’t likely boast of the number of hours we had spent listening to the stereo. Or reading novels. Or watching the television set. Yet if He piled all those hours together on one side of a balance and on the other side he placed all the hours we had spent in deep meditation, most of us would feel that our best tack might be an appeal to God’s mercy rather than to His Justice.
A rather simple-minded response to all this would be to react with guilt, to resolve to tune in more to the Infinite and less to Laverne and Shirley. That would not be a bad response, just an overly simple one. That attitude is rooted in the old “God is in Heaven and the Devil is in the World” mentality. We should not be so quick to underestimate God’s compassion! The entire world in all its horror, all its pleasure, its richness, its traps — all of it was created for one purpose alone: to help us awaken. That we can be held in thrall by the things of the world is undeniable. We all demonstrate that every day. But that is not their purpose. Every act, every experience, contains within it the kernels of liberation.
Let’s take another look at the movies. Many other activities would serve as well, but the movies have one great advantage — most of us think of them as simply entertainment, irrelevant to our more serious work, just a little relaxation before we get back to evolving. Thank Heaven it’s not true! If we were only growing when we thought we were growing, we would be in dire straits.
The popcorn has been gone for 20 minutes. Now we have no vent for our nervous energy except to grip the theater seats more tightly. The hero, whom we have come to love, is leading a troop of helpless angels away from some overpowering destructive force. At the critical moment he bravely throws away his only chance for survival so that those he loves might live. A little dampness forms in the corner of our eyes. We are secretly glad that the theater is so dark. That way no one can see our incipient tear. The film ends. The lights come up. Normalcy coalesces around us once again. We turn to the person next to us and give a quick critical review: “Pretty good film. A little hokey near the end though.”
Why did that tear form? On a deeper level, why do we go to the movies at all? The answers to both of those questions are the same, rooted in the same psychological process: the ability to “put ourselves in another person’s shoes.” If we could not identify with the characters in a film it could never hold our attention. We can say the same for the characters in a novel or even the singer of a song that moves us. Without identification no dramatic presentation could work its magic on the mind.
Psychologically, identification is the basis of empathy or compassion. We feel the other’s pain or joy as if it were our own. For a few seconds our identification may be perfect; we have no awareness of anyone “being compassionate.” Our consciousness has simply flowed into the other person’s framework. This is a most profound lesson in selflessness. It is not an idea; it is not metaphysical. Fed by that age-old evolutionary rocket fuel, love, the transformations it creates within us are direct and primal.
The spiritual heritage of all cultures places great emphasis upon compassion. Its value has been recognized intuitively since the beginning of human evolution. To set aside the myriad differences which separate us from others, even those we love, and for a moment actually feel their consciousness is unparalleled as an evolutionary tool. It carries us far beyond our fortresses of pride and certainty.
We can say precisely the same thing for the same reasons about identifying with a character in a film. It may lack the depth and intensity that comes from opening up to someone who is a flesh and blood figure in our everyday reality. It does not possess the sheer power arising from the realization that at this very moment a mother is watching her child starve to death in Bangladesh or that a gentle whale is being penetrated by an explosive harpoon. But, within consciousness, the two processes are unmistakably cousins. In each one we have gone beyond a narrow identification with the self. Our “I-ness” has grown to include another one of God’s manifestations. Our ability to love has overpowered our ability to stand apart.
Should our spiritual path include more trips to the movies? Not necessarily. At least that is not the point. What we are seeing here is something deeper. Virtually all that we do naturally and spontaneously can potentially feed the Work; we can make a spiritual quantum leap sitting in a theater. And we can be in the doldrums sitting in an ashram or in a church. The key is never in the world of appearance. Always it lies within the impenetrable mystery of each individual consciousness.
Life is not our enemy. It is our friend. God gave us bodies and personalities and hearts and dreams not to ensnare us, but to help us. They contain snares certainly, and we are free to fall into them. But through loving them, using them easily and unselfconsciously, and forever turning the mind toward the Infinite in whatever we do, we will gradually go beyond the pitfalls of the world. When God caused the dream of life to rise before our eyes, He did it out of love, not hatred. Life never traps us; we distort it and trap ourselves. And even that contains lessons.
An incomprehensible wisdom has shaped all our experiences. All of them, blissful and painful, cosmic and mundane, hold untapped veins of Light. Looking at the contents of each day, even if the high point was a trip to the movies, let’s try to remember two things. First, God loves us. That’s an old line, but maybe the best one. And second, He is much smarter than us. Even when we think we are out for a night on the town, the Work goes on. There is no way to stop it.
This essay originally appeared in Crystals of Light, published by The Church of the Brigade of Light, 3324 Holabird Lane, Charlotte, N.C. 28208 and is reprinted with permission.
— Ed.
