Much has been made of the role Star Wars plays as modern day mythology, particularly the first three films. (It's known, for instance, that George Lucas studied with Joseph Campbell, the pre-eminent scholar of comparative mythology, and intentionally followed Campbell's structure of the Monomyth -- the Hero's Journey -- when constructing his story.) It is also widely acknowledged that superhero stories function as a modern mythology as well, and, more that they function as a reflection of our cultural zeitgeist -- superheroes as "cultural barometer."
As I've noted elsewhere, one of the things I love about reading comic books, something that grows out of reading about the same figures over time, are the numerous ways that these characters are "made real" by their writers and artists. Every character has quirks that make them more than just a powered person in spandex, and over time you can see these characterizations become more nuanced. If you read a comic long enough, you can watch its characters grow, mature, change. And in the hands of some of the real pros, there are a myriad little details of interaction that are delightful gifts that reward those of us who've stayed with them. While any one issue of any one comic book title may consist of little more than "a slugfest," as they're sometimes derided, over time it becomes clear that they really are a form of what we might call, "expansive storytelling." Just as the story of "The Boy Who Lived" plays out over the more than 2,000 pages of the seven primary Harry Potter books (and the roughly 18 hours of the movies), and the story of the One Ring is told over the 1,200 or so pages of Tolkien's masterpiece, so too the stories of these comic book heroes and heroines have grown and developed over time. (Superman premiered in 1938, the Bat-Man first appeared in 1939, and Wonder Woman showed up a scant two years later.)
Given all of this, it should not be surprising that I have quite a comic book collection. I also collect action figures. (My collection is probably something in the range of 350-400 comics, and somewhere a little over 200 figures.)
In the new anthology about spiritual practices I edited for Skinner House books, Faithful Practices: everyday ways to feed your spirit, I wrote a chapter about a practice that feeds my soul, "Playing With My Dolls." I note that I'm not one of those people who leave their comics bagged in plastic, requiring you to wear gloves if you take it out, nor do I have my figures boxed and safe from scratches and fingerprints that might lower their value. I read (and re-read) my comics, and I play with my figures. I also make scale models in which to pose the figures, because I also take photographs of them. [As I write this, my action figure photo album on Flickr has over 800 pictures in it.]
I write in my chapter more about what this practice consists of -- in practical terms -- but I also list seven characteristics that I find in my photography of action figures that I think are common to all spiritual practices. If there's something you do that brings you joy, that feeds your soul, that helps you to be more alive, check it against this list of attributes. If you find that it has elements of more than a few of them, you may well have a spiritual practice on your hands!
- Commitment: A spiritual practice, as opposed to a mere "spiritual hobby," is something that you have made a commitment to. Runner don't always want to go out into the cold and the rain, they'd often rather stay in bed, but they're committed to their running, so they put on their shoes and go out. Is this thing you do something that you keep coming back to whether or not it's frustrating or challenging?
- Regularity: Using the metaphor of learning to play an instrument, a person can make a sound on an instrument they pick up haphazardly, from time to time. A person who takes their instrument out regularly, with some consistency, is much more likely to make some kind of progress. Is the thing you do something that you do on a regular basis -- daily, weekly, monthly?
- Interior Circularity: I made up this term, but it points to the experience of different aspects of a practice reinforcing one another. For example, entering your meditation space respectfully leads you to engage in your meditation more seriously. Your experience(s) in your meditation make you want to return to your cushion the next day, or later that day. Are there elements in this thing that you do which, in and of themselves, inspire you to do the thing?
- Flexibility: Although this would seem to contradict the qualities of commitment and regularity, I have found that I am more likely to engage a spiritual practice that I can, at least in part, fit into my ever changing life. Yes, regularly and commitment are important, and both the desire and the ability to dip my toe in the waters of my practice seems to me to be important, too. Is the thing you do something that you can do in some way whenever the mood strikes?
- Separate From Daily Life: When I'm in my workshop working on building, say, the fourth iteration of a 1:12 scale Batcomputer, or making minor adjustments to the tilt of a figure's head in a photo, I find that the rest of the world "drops off." The ten thousand things that pull me this way and that, the million-and-one voices that call out to me for attention, quiet down, and in that quiet I am more able to hear that "still, small voice," that "voice of quiet stillness," which some call God. Is the thing you do something that takes you out of the hustle and bustle of your day-to-day?
- Yet Not Entirely Separate: There is a critique made of some religious/spiritual folk that they are all pious and holy in church on Sunday, or are filled with loving kindness when kneeling on their prayer rug, yet who seem to forget all about that during the other 23 hours of the day, and six days of the week. I have action figures in my house and in my office at church, not just out in the workshop. I watch superhero movies, and read comic books. There are reminders of my practice throughout my life, and there are aspects of it that are integrated into my daily life. Is that true of whatever it is you do that you're thinking might be a spiritual practice?
- Joy: I really enjoy "playing with my dolls." I'm aware that lots of folks might think it odd -- my teenage sons keep me well aware of that. Yet I really love it. Even when it's frustrating, even when I'm faced with a hurdle I don't know how to overcome, I return to the workshop again and again because it doesn't just make me happy to do so -- it brings me real joy. How about you?
There is a popular notion that "anything you do can be a spiritual practice," and that's true. That's true especially if you remember those two central words, "can be." The seven characteristics of spiritual practices that I've just listed are certainly not the only ones, yet I recognize that they are present in my practice of building "sets" and taking pictures of action figures, and it's in that recognition, and through my intentional cultivation of them, that what might otherwise simply be a hobby becomes a way to feed my spirit.
Pax tecum,
RevWik
