Art, Crime, Junk Food & Spirit

Three police officers from the "Bosch" TV series talk in a hallway.

<em>“Bosch”</em>

A chemist who retired from the U.S. food industry remarked that instead of eating the cereal on the grocery shelf, consumers could derive equal nutrition from eating the box.

The thought occurs that it’s the same in the television industry. Mainstream TV is a river of sludge, with only occasional specks of artistic nutrition floating on the surface.

I’m thinking particularly of detective shows. I believe there are two types of cop show: the downright lousy, and those made with care and craft.

You can tell a bad crime series the moment the female detective speaks her first lines. If you hear teenage angst in her voice, with a silent subtext, “Please like me!” you can be sure it will be a rough ride. Even worse, if she swallows her lines.

But if the female lead is calmly focused on portraying a police officer who’s serious about the job, and if her attention is not on herself but on the business at hand, the odds are greatly improved. Particularly if she doesn’t have beautiful hair and poochy lips.

It’s just one reason why “Bosch” and “On Call” shine for their superb casting. All of the female detectives are mature and professional, as actors and police.

Why do bad crime series happen? Because everybody’s focused on the money. They aren’t centered in the moment. They’re antsy about doing just enough to be done and grab the prize.

I grind my teeth when I think of how easy it would be to help the young actresses who are hired for their pretty faces and figures without training them to succeed.

If I were the director, I would sit them down and have them read the part, first with the usual breathless line-swallowing insecurity.

I would then ask them to close their eyes and place all of their attention calmly and gently in the forehead, centered generally around the point between the eyebrows, about a half-inch inside the skull.

Then I would ask them to open their eyes and read the part again while keeping their attention focused as described. I would ask them to think of what it’s like to be a police officer whose career and life depend on their ability to be anchored in the moment, with self-restraint, focused on the details of the job that will determine whether they’ll solve the crime and go home safely.

I’ll bet that any of them, at least the seminally self-aware, would be grateful for being given the first steps toward understanding the needs of the role.

Then I would have a long talk with the people in hair and makeup.

The prefrontal cortex is where important qualities of maturity are localized in the brain – including the ability to remain calm and focused in challenging circumstances, the ability to relate to realities outside our own, and the ability to make long-term plans and persevere in attaining them.

Swami Kriyananda said, “Before there can be an expansion, there must be a certain grounding first.” The “grounding” can make or break an actor.

Before we can relate meaningfully to the world, we must be centered, so that we can set ourselves aside and deal realistically with the circumstances in which we find ourselves.

The centering exercise for young actors makes a rewarding experiment that we can practice anytime. I urge you to try it. Whenever you find yourself in circumstances that demand maturity – meeting people, taking an important phone call, attending a job interview – try placing your attention at the point between the eyebrows, not with tension, but with deliberate, calm attention.

I believe you’ll find it will help you behave with greater maturity and poise. I’m equally certain that you’ll be surprised to see how others will respond to your maturity and sincerity. Do you have to be on a spiritual path? No. But Paramhansa Yogananda did say that it is the “transmitting station” where we can broadcast our prayers to God, and that the heart is the receiving station where we can hear His answers, as a sure inner feeling, or even as words.

And elderly and a middle-aged woman meditate with eyes closed, backlit by bright sunlight.

<em>L-R: Eloisa and Shankari in meditation, Ananda Sangha, Palo Alto, CA</em>

How does this apply in the arts? On my way to go shopping the other day, I strolled out to the shed where I keep my e-bike. It’s near the studio where Amara Fiesterman paints beautiful seascapes that are featured in respected galleries on the San Francisco Peninsula.

As I passed, Amara was working in the studio. When I greeted her, she emerged and said, quietly and kindly, “Rambhakta, may I ask you a favor? When I’m doing art, I am very focused, and it breaks the creative flow if I have to stop and be social.”

She’d scarcely finished, when I replied, “Say no more.” Because I understood.

In a recent article, “The Real, No-Bull Truth About Spirituality and Creative Inspiration,” I recalled how I first began learning to bring God into my work as a photographer, fifty-seven years ago.

As a self-described “utility photographer” who’s equally happy taking pictures of people doing carpentry or dancing, I suspect I might have a hard time convincing “real” artists that I have any right to speak with authority on artistic matters.

I don’t paint, sculpt, write music, or play in a band. I’m not famous. I don’t print my photos or sell them. (Though I am paid for taking pictures at school events.) My photographic “art,” so-called, is more reflective than creative. My hope is to show the wonders of God in His creation, particularly in human beings. Yet I do insist on the right to think of what I do as spiritually inspired, to the extent that I’m doing it the right way.

Real artists may rightfully demand, “Where’s the evidence?” In response, let me share some thoughts from an email I sent to Amara recently in reply to her kind words about some photos I’d taken.

Dear Amara,

Thank you for the kind and encouraging words.

I think of you, and how your art requires all of your attention. It’s very much the same with photography. I find that if I really mean business, and put lots of attention at the spiritual eye and give everything to be guided by God and Guru, the photos turn out better that way, because I will simply know what to do. Also, it feels wonderful, and I have a much more enjoyable and fulfilling time.

A recent example is this photo of two women. I like it, because it warms my heart with kindness and appreciation. Yet I’m absolutely certain that I would not have been able to take it if I hadn’t first “tuned in.”

I was standing on one side of the large church sanctuary, when I became aware of the women meditating, and I realized that if I would dash over, I might be able to take a lovely picture that would show them backlit by the sun streaming through the windows.

But then I thought of the countless times when I’d dashed after a picture without making God my guide, and how the opportunity had closed before I could take the photo.

This time, I wordlessly offered the situation to God. I was perfectly happy to take the photo or not. I only wanted to do as God might guide, because it’s the only way I’ve ever felt happy and fulfilled while taking pictures.

When I sensed a calm assurance, I walked quietly across the sanctuary and got in position to take a photo.

The photos that I enjoy the most are always those where I feel that God and I are taking them as partners.

– Rambhakta