It has saddened me to read the accusations and counter-accusations that have been lodged here on OS in recent days.  I'm not going to link to any particular blog, and I'm not going to comment on what I may think about this situation because, ultimately, what I think doesn't matter in the least. If you know what I'm talking about, and if you are feeling angry or hurt, then I hope you will take a few minutes to read this post. 

As a film lover, I can say that some of my most important "life lessons" have been learned from movies. For example, I learned from Strictly Ballroom that a life lived in fear is a life half lived.  I learned from Oklahoma that the farmer and the cowman should be friends.  I learned from East of Eden that a father's love and approval, or lack thereof, can make or break a young man's life (and that James Dean really, really rocked).  And I learned from A Hard Day's Night that I should have been born at least ten years earlier than I was.

I learned something else important from The Red Shoes.  This 1948 film is the story of the love affair between two aspiring young artists:  the composer, Julian Craster, and the dancer, Victoria Page (played by Moira Shearer, in all her flame-haired glory).  Their story more or less parallels that of the doomed young woman in the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale of the same name.  I don't think I'm giving anything away by saying you can probably guess that it all ends very badly.  

But in the hands of the legendary team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, it is an absolute technicolor ballet fever dream, and the fact that it contains some of the most beautiful footage ever of Leonide Massine, who plays the company's ballet master and the shoemaker in The Red Shoes ballet-within-the-movie, makes it as much of an historical document for the world of dance as anything else.  Well, the movie is a whole 'nother post in itself, of course.  All I can say is see it. 

The scene that affected me so deeply occurs in the beginning of the film, as we are getting to know the individual characters.  Julian Craster is a young student composer, who, along with two friends, fights his way up to the cheap seats for a performance of the Ballet Lermontov's newest work, "Heart of Fire".  Have they come to see the dancing?  No, nothing so pedestrian as that.  Professor Livy, their instructor at the Academy and conductor for the company, has written the score for this work, and it is this that they have come to hear.

As the lights go down and the overture is played, we see a troubled look cross Julian's face.  It only intensifies when the curtain rises and the dancing begins.  His two friends seem to know what is bothering him.  "I say, isn't that yours?", one of them asks.  "Yes", replies Julian curtly.  It becomes painfully obvious that Professor Livy has lifted large portions of Julian's work for his supposedly original score.  Julian leaves the theater in disgust, his two friends close behind.

The next scene shows Lermontov, impresario and artistic director of the ballet company, being served breakfast the following morning.  (His dressing gown alone is worth the price of admission.  Did people really dress this way?)  His butler informs him that a Mr. Craster is there to see him, and refuses to go away.  You see, Julian had written to Lermontov the night before about his dilemma, and was now demanding to see him. Lermontov tells the butler to let Craster in.  After a frank discussion, Lermontov agrees that "Heart of Fire" is indeed Craster's work.  But what he says next has stayed with me since I first saw the film:

"It is worth remembering, that it is much more disheartening to have to steal than to be stolen from." 

Think about that for a moment.

Have you ever been the victim of a scam, a burglary, or a robbery?  It certainly hurts, doesn't it?  It makes you feel violated, angry and fearful. But "it is worth remembering" that you are the victim and that both the laws of men and the laws of karma are on your side.  And what about the person who steals?  

Poor Professor Livy, in charge of writing a score for a ballet, and he's coming up empty.  Can you think of anything worse for an artist than to be out of ideas, uninspired?  In desperation, he passes off his student's work as his own.  That's got to be a pretty humiliating place to find oneself. 

There are many motivations for stealing, several of which I'll mention here.  A person who is poor and desperate may steal simply in order to stay alive.  A person who is addicted to drugs may steal in order to obtain a fix.  A person who doesn't know any better and doesn't give a damn may steal just for the hell of it.  A person who is full of hate may steal in order to bring someone else down to his level.

As much as it hurts to be the victim of any of these people, would you want to be any of them?  Would you ever want to be that desperate, addicted, uneducated, full of hate, or just plain sociopathic?  I think that the overwhelming majority of us would rather be on the other side of that interaction, wouldn't we?

And so, without passing judgment on anyone, or on anything that has occurred here over the last several weeks, I think it is important to step back and see where it is we want to be in the big picture.

If someone gives out of a sense of wanting to help, but then feels taken advantage of (or is actually taken advantage of, which may or may not ever be provable), remember that the impulse to do the right thing is all that matters.  If, at the end of our lives, we are required to stand and be judged, it is our good deeds that weigh in our favor, regardless of the character of the recipients.  They will be judged on what they have done.

If someone takes advantage of our generosity or kindness, it is their karmic burden to bear, not ours.  And so, the best thing to do is to let go.  Learn, forgive and move on.  But don't let your heart be hardened. Sometimes it truly is the grace of god (whatever god may be to you) that keeps you from having to travel the same path.

Since I wrote so much about it, I will leave you with a scene from The Red Shoes -- the first part of the ballet within the movie.  It is my hope that this work of beauty will help to heal the hearts of all the good people here on OS.