The art of loving detachment: Witnessing your life as if watching a movie
The colors in the dream were muted and gauzy like watching an old 1960s show. My 100-year-old grandmother had just passed two months before, and now she was paying me a visit via this nocturnal movie. But she appeared as she was around age 55: short brown bob adorning a kind and smiling face, floral A-line shift dress, and penny loafers. She was standing at the top of a woodsy path and asked me to follow her. I noticed a faint golden glow around her as I walked behind her. We ended at a movie studio with large bay doors that were shut. A sign on them read “Closed.” A long white table was set up out front. It was lined with rows and rows of pretty cupcakes. Decorating each cupcake was a little triangular flag on a toothpick. All of the flags were blank except one — I was surprised to see my name printed on that one.
We walked around behind the large studio building and entered an industrial kitchen. It was a mess. There were stacks of dirty dishes everywhere and people were sitting lazily on countertops or stretched out on the floor napping. I started gathering up the dirty dishes, piling them as high as possible in my arms. I tried to carry the precarious stacks, but they were so heavy. My intent was to wash them, but then I woke up, saving me from the burdensome task.
The details of the dream lingered in my mind. This was one of those vivid dreams that I knew carried an important message. The guidance I garnered was that I didn’t have to get caught up in other people’s dramas (hence, the closed doors on the movie studio) and that I wasn’t necessarily responsible for cleaning up other people’s messes (painfully carrying dirty dishes.) The little flag with my name indicated I should celebrate the spirit of life. I knew the dream wasn’t telling me not to care or that I shouldn’t help. After all, I believe that our loftiest goals should be service to others and communion with the divine.
But I also know there is a fine line between helping others and taking on their responsibilities. Helping others enough so they can learn how to help themselves is more beneficial in the long run. It takes discipline to listen with empathy without feeling the need to jump in and fix things. It’s about acknowledging and respecting one another’s boundaries. Self-resourcefulness and self-responsibility are two qualities that contribute to long-term happiness and success. Knowing when to take a break is important, too. We have an inner sanctuary inside us which serves as a respite from the world, especially when it gets too stressful. We can tune into it by closing our eyes, taking a slow deep breath and concentrating on that serene place. Maintaining inner peace is vital to our health and sanity.
According to Yogananda, author of the classic “Autobiography of a Yogi,” we are in a sort of hypnotic state. Just as someone under hypnosis might be told that salt tastes sweet, we are made to believe that this life is real when in the ultimate reality it is a delusion. We get caught up in acquiring material things, and we think we can’t live without certain people or objects when the truth is that it’s all temporary. The only thing real and permanent is spirit (God and our own souls) made up of energy. Energy never dies.
When we view our surroundings with a sense of loving detachment, we are protected against the daily dramas and stress in the world, which are temporary and constantly changing. The message is this: “Don’t get too engrossed in the dramas of life.” Knowing that “this too shall pass” just as fleetingly as an intense movie scene can relieve stress. The world needn’t know that we are viewing it from a place of loving detachment. We can proactively send out love and compassion while being a witness to our surroundings. Take a deep breath, go within, and enjoy the movie!
