Life and the Movies

I watch a lot of movies, so many that I forget what I've even watched. I'm absorbed in each movie as I watch it but then it's over and I move on. Our life is like that. We get absorbed in it and then it's over and we move on. The main difference between our life and a movie we are watching is that we are also the star actor in the movie of our life. Yet, we still watch the movie as we watch ourselves act and watch others interact with us. Our actions and reactions are central to how the movie plays out.

Given that we are the star actor, it's no wonder that we are deeply absorbed in the movie of our life. In any given movie, we usually identify with an actor and suffer with her or him as the plot unfolds. When the actor is myself, the absorption is almost complete except when we suffer some shock that causes temporary dissociation. At such a time, we are simply the watcher and no longer absorbed in our acting role. If it happens, it doesn't last for long and soon we are back in our favourite role. It's a role we relish no matter what our mood. Especially when we are suffering, we are deeply immersed.

It's all quite normal of course, everybody does it, but the fact remains that we are playing a role (dramatic, comedic or whatever) in an episode of an ongoing series. The episode is our current life and it is but one in a very long series of lives. We have become addicted to the series and watch episode after episode, reviewing the life just lived in between lives as we prepare for the next. In certain lives, we struggle just to stay alive amidst war, famine and disease. There is little time for objectivity. In other lives however, we will have time to contemplate our role playing, recognise it for what it is, and realise that only the watcher was real. I, the actor, was a temporary psychological construct. 

Rarely does this happen however, because it's unsettling to think of ourself as a psychological construct. Yet that is what we are. Our deconstruction will begin immediately following the death of our physical bodies. While the drama of our lives is playing out before us, we can begin to identify more with the watcher than the actor but such is our psychological investment in the latter that true detachment is almost impossible. The sense of I is so strong that it cannot be extinguished. It's like trying to swallow yourself, as the ouroboros does, so that you disappear completely. After that achievement, the watcher realises that there never was anything to watch in the first place. Only very few achieve this.

Norina Matchabelli

It was today, in 1957, that Norina Matchabelli was reunited with Baba at the age of 77. She first met Baba in New York in 1931 and that meeting was to change her life. This is her description of what happened:

I doubt whether that experience [of meeting Meher Baba] can be expressed in words. I had heard about him, but I remained skeptical. I had followed teacher after teacher, and yet none of them could ever reassure me [about the Path]. 

Eventually, I consented to go with a friend to Harmon. I entered the room in which Baba was sitting surrounded by followers and disciples. That very moment, an experience began, full of wonder and beauty. Suddenly I had to run across the room and I found myself weeping on the floor at his feet. Weeping, weeping! Oh, how I was weeping! But I also began to laugh, and the streams running down my cheeks and the outbursts of laughter became one. I was resting my head on Baba's hand, and my whole body was shaking with terrific sobs of liberation.

Eventually, I quieted down. Baba then took my face between his hands and looked at me for a long time into one of my eyes, and then into the other, and then back into the first eye. Then he spoke to me via the alphabet board. His first words were: "I am man and woman and child. I am sexless." He then paused for a while, brought his face nearer to mine and spelled out, "Have no fear." 

An incredible joy surged through me. I went into the next room and lay down on a sofa, weeping still with joy. Suddenly the door opened and Baba came in. I knew now that my whole life had no meaning if it were not dedicated to the Perfect Master, and so I said to him, "Baba, please take me with you."

Of course, Baba emphasised that he was "sexless" because a skeptical Norina had said to her friend Jean Adriel only the day before:

"How can you worship at the feet of any man, even if he does call himself a Master? Women like ourselves — who have had such deep inner experiences — don't need any man to show us the way to God. 

Well, that was her head talking of course and her heart had other ideas. She remained devoted to Baba for the rest of her life. 

On June 15th, 1957, Norina Matchabelli passed away at the age of seventy-seven, in Youpon Dunes, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, after prolonged heart trouble. Her love, service and renunciation were boundless. She was wholly Baba’s and merged in Him. Baba sent this telegram to Elizabeth Patterson and Kitty Davy on June 17th: “Be happy my very dear Norina has come to live with me forever.” Her body was cremated and, as was Baba’s wish, the ashes were sent to India and interred on Meherabad Hill. Her tombstone reads: “Princess Norina who is and will ever remain Baba’s.” Here is a link to more information about her.