Stealing sweet from everything

A Hit of Hope

I love a good heist movie. You can always count on the usual suspects to make an appearance: the brain, the brawn, the geek, the acrobat, the slickster, and the eye candy, just to a name a few.

Another familiar theme in these films is that we should ignore the victim. If it’s not a faceless corporation, it’s a juicy villain, which makes it easy to believe they are just getting what they deserve.

Bewitched by boozy repartee, plunging necklines, and strong jaw lines, we cheer on the wily crew, hoping they will bamboozle the guards and best the booby traps. When we watch them walk away into a cloud of hundred dollar bills fluttering in the sky, we feel satisfied, having forgotten for two hours about that familiar edict: Thou Shalt Not Steal.

Perhaps heist movies are so compelling, because they unveil our complicated relationship with stealing. We all know stealing is bad, and while many of us have tamed our ids and don’t grab whatever we want, there are lots of other ways we can steal—from others and ourselves.

Imagine a person has a great idea, something they are really excited about, and they tell someone else, who says, “Oh, that’s great, but you could never pull that off.” An act like that can steal a person’s purpose and joy.

Or imagine someone is speaking, and somebody else interrupts them. Or ignores them. That can steal a person’s confidence and voice.

And we do it to ourselves, too. We might come across a job listing and think, “Gosh, that sounds like the perfect job. But why would they want to hire me?” Or we see something we want, and we think, “If only I had that, then I’d be happy,” which is stealing the good from the present moment, living in lack rather than abundance.

Or we get so caught up in our virtual lives, we forget to live our actual lives. Or we give too much of ourselves, depleting our reserves so we have nothing left to offer. The opposite is also true—if we can never receive a gift, we are stealing the joy of giving from someone else.

That’s why the heist movie is so helpful—these little thieves can sneak up on us in all kinds of forms. Sometimes, they seem sweet. Or smart. Or even good. And we let our defenses down, welcoming them in, where they rip us off and leave us looking around, wondering what the hell just happened.

The mastermind behind the ultimate heist crew is desire. It shows up in all kinds of ways and whispers, “More. More. More.”

You see that refrain all of the time, on billboards, on Facebook, in the bathroom stall. You might also hear that refrain in your job, in a relationship, even on a yoga mat or a bike or a running path, where you push and strive and steal your body’s joy or ease.

You are enough. You are enough. You are a luminous body and soul, whose inner light is already shining bright.

So how about we foil the inside job. Let’s quit stealing resources, joy, energy, time, health, meaning. Let’s quit allowing our busyness, our phones, our need to be right, our need to keep up with the Joneses to take away from someone else’s deep need for attention and care. Or our own.

This is our chance—to stop the little thieves from crawling in the windows and sneaking around to steal the good. Our good. We can shine the light of awareness on them and say in our best bad cop voice, “Freeze, you little punks! I see what you are doing.” Then it’s the good cop’s turn. “Hey. I know you’re just goofy kids at heart, so how about you call it night, okay?”

And then get some rest, so you can live light and shine.