It is said that each person takes away from a piece of artwork--be it a book, a film, a painting, whatever--whatever they put into it from their own personal experiences, their own gut reactions.
I know that I am no different. I have my thoughts, my opinions, be they informed or uninformed. I have my gut reactions, my experiences.
I also have my deep and abiding interest in NDE's, or Near-Death Experiences, which is what led me to stand in Wal-Mart some time ago and read "Heaven Is For Real" cover to cover, without buying the darn thing. Yes, that is how lost I get in the world of words.
Especially when it pertains to spirituality and every other person's experience of it. I was especially curious about Colton Burpo's experience, as related to his father, Todd, who authored the book. Maybe someday Colton himself will write about his experience first hand, in his words. In the meantime, there's the current book--and now a movie.
I just watched the movie, and my ultimate reaction to it is thus:
It never fails.
You're going along in your life and something happens to upend your whole existence. Either you are told something or you experience an event--or series of them--and what you thought you knew about life, about the afterlife, even, is changed. and invariably, the words and the experience both challenge what you've believed up to this current point in time. Even if you are already quite spiritual in your daily life, regardless of what form that spirituality takes.
Such is the power of an NDE. And such, therefore, is the power of the story of the experience to change the lives of the people who did not have the experience, but find their own notions of life challenged nevertheless.
So what opinion do I have of the movie itself as compared to the book?
Well, I really wished they would have found a way to portray more of Colton's visions. That was the meat of the book, in my view. But they juxtaposed his matter-of-fact words with the reactions of the people around him, including his own father and mother. And a child's matter-of-factness is often quite jarring for an adult. Especially an adult who has been taught to think and believe a certain way, or has had experiences that have caused them grief and have not found resolution. So seeing that dose of reality portrayed was refreshing. Because yes, it is more or less a feel-good movie, but it was not overly saccharine in the way many Christianity-oriented films tend to be.
I also felt anxious for the Burpos when the media circus comes knocking at their door, wanting interviews. On top of this, the couple are struggling, financially. All this really puts a strain on Sonja, Colton's mother, whose own faith is being challenged. And until Colton told her of the sister he never met because the baby died in utero, she was having trouble coming to terms with the notion that Colton was telling the truth instead of being inventive. I would also imagine that, as a pastor's wife, the struggle of her faith being challenged was not the easiest road to walk. It's not like pastor's wives can hide from everyone else and their oft-times ridiculous and unreasonable expectations. They're expected to be just as public as their partners. Of course, that's assuming the minister is a man.
And I'm digressing.
In the section of the movie where the church board is thinking about looking for another minister, my thought was this: Why not ask Colton to get up there and tell the congregation, in his words, what he experienced? I mean, whatever happened to "And a little child shall lead them?" Whatever happened to "Enter the kingdom of heaven as a little child?" Why is an adult's ideas considered more credible than a child's as far as getting up in church and saying stuff that's important to people's growth as human beings? Is it because when an adult says those important things, they're backed up by years of so-called education and a piece of paper that says "you have arrived here"?
Why do we adults end up feeling so mortified when a child corrects US on behavior that we have told them is wrong? It's because the kid has called us out on our own bullcrap. And we know it. I know because while I don't have kids, my own inner child reminds me of my own hypocrisies. I hear my eight-year-old self loud and clear. I think maybe I should enlist her help more often. Because while my adult self has learned to rationalize stuff away and wave her hand at stuff she wants to ignore, my eight-year-old Inner Little Kat, like the Maiden of Wands she is--purely intuitive, honest and forthright--gives me her best "Don't-give-me-that-crap" look.
As adults, we often lose our way. We think Heaven or whatever word you want to give to the realms beyond this one is "up there somewhere." It is, and it isn't. It's within us. It's within our Inner Child, or the eyes of the child you're looking at right now. The sleeping infant, the toddler with her thumb in her mouth, the precocious budding scientist exploring an anthill or looking through a telescope to discover the delights of the moon's craters.
This wasn't exactly a review, was it? But I figure this post was going to take the form it was going to take and nothing else. I spent some time trying to shape it into a classic review form, and like a child, it did not want to bend to my ego-desires. It wanted to take the form of a more honest, flowing discussion, which comes more naturally to me than trying to force words into an agreed-upon way of writing or speaking. Even my inner Little Kat says, "Oh, come on Big Kat, quit TRYING to say something and just say something."
And speaking from the heart, speaking honestly--which means engaging my inner Little Kat often--is a weight off my soul, to tell you the truth. No pretenses, no masks, just me being me digging in the dirt of my soul and finding all kinds of good stuff to play with.
Until later, neighbors...
Peace,
Kat ^.^
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