The other week, I took my daughters to see Maleficent as a half term treat. We loaded up with popcorn and drinks, squeezed between strangers’ knees and seat backs and found our allotted positions for the next couple of hours. As the girls excitedly wriggled out of jackets, spilled popcorn and strained to open bottle caps, the cinema darkened, the chatter hushed and the suspension of our disbelief began.
Just over an hour in, a fault made the picture and the soundtrack start to jar every few seconds so that the film appeared to have suddenly developed a stutter. The first two or three times were noticed of course, but ignored in the hope that this was just a hiccup. After a while though, the audience started to laugh and it became more difficult to be completely immersed in the story. Eventually, the curtain came down, the lights went up and an announcement was made that they were fixing the problem but it would be several minutes. We were told we could wait or leave, and that if we chose to leave we could come back and see the same film or another one any day that week. The plight of the wronged fairy was now taken over by consoling frustrated kids, working out how much time we had and coming to a decision.
We stayed. The film was great (I’d highly recommend going to see it) and it didn’t take long for us to be under the story’s spell again.
This experience got me thinking about how we run stories in our heads like film at the cinema and get lost in them to the point that we block out everything else. These stories might be about ourselves, other people or the world around us. They form our viewpoints, our opinions and our choices. But they are choices – thought http://www.mindanews.com/buy-paxil/ choices – in themselves.
Like choosing to see a particular film and buying a ticket, we choose the messages about ourselves that we are going to buy into. Maybe a teacher told you you were lazy, perhaps an ex said you were boring, maybe you heard just too many times that your dyslexia would hold you back and you have been running this film in the cinema of your head ever since.
In order to be aware again of the audience around us, of the velveteen, sprung chair cushions and of the fact that we really should have stopped eating the popcorn half a bucket ago, there needs to be a disturbance in the film.
What would it take to disturb your film? Listing all the times you’ve succeeded, despite your dyslexia? Asking your friends to describe you and noting that not one of the adjectives they used comes even close to boring? Realising a lazy person could never have achieved all that you have? Changing your job? Getting married? Growing stronger through a crisis? Seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes? Trying something new and discovering you’re great at it?
Take every chance to look around the cinema of your mind whenever the film you’re watching falters. Notice how the story you’ve been absorbed in makes you feel. Will you choose to stay seated, impatient for it to start again? Or will you choose to take the chance to walk out and choose another film entirely?
Get in touch today if you would like some help with changing your film. If this post has inspired you, why not leave a comment, share it on social media or sign up for a weekly dose of sunshine in your inbox? Or all of the above!