Role-playing is as old as humanity itself. It existed even before the theater was invented. Early humans would dance around the fire, acting out how they would hunt a bison. This was of immense importance; it was how they prepared for the task. They visualized it, then danced it out as a group. During the dance, it also became clear who would take on which role in the hunt. Some preferred to stay in the background, while others, driven by personal ambition, took on leading roles. This way, the leader knew who he could count on. The community was forged together through the shared dance, and since the activity was successful during the dance, this increased the chances of bringing down the bison, as the dance was nothing more than a collective mental creation.

Role-playing appears in romantic relationships and in child-rearing; the film industry, reality TV, and—directly—the theater all put this to our head. Despite having engaged in this behavior since time immemorial, we still do not understand the mechanisms and significance of role-playing. Let’s take another, modern example. On Facebook, you can choose an avatar for yourself. You select a character and play a desired role through that character, while you remain in the background. What’s the point of this? The person who thinks himself more intelligent, asks this. Well, it’s that as an avatar, you can play a role that you’d never have a chance to play in “real life.” And yes, there are “good” and “bad” sides to this. Everyone reacts to this opportunity based on their own personality. Well, I don’t have an “avatar”—I play myself, which means I’m my own avatar, if you will. Or is there one?

I’ll let you in on a secret: here on Earth, everyone plays the role of an avatar, whether they know it or not. Higher spiritual realms exist, and on a certain level of those realms, we sit in front of our computers, choose a character we like, and play that role as an avatar on Earth, switching roles from one life to the next. How is this possible?

God is the producer, and with the goal of bringing the consciousness of created beings closer to Oneness (to Himself), He introduces an idea into creation. The idea catches the eye of a screenwriter in His circle, who devises the frame story for the feature film. He presents it to the Producer, and if the Producer gives the go-ahead, they seek out a director—who becomes the next World Teacher. The World Teacher begins casting the lead actors, who more or less consciously agree to participate in the project. Then, once this is finalized, they round up the supporting actors and extras. Before they start shooting the film, countless rehearsals take place, during which individual scenes are acted out to verify whether this is what the director or producer had in mind. The script allows for a significant degree of individual freedom; that is, depending on the actor’s personality, they can incorporate their own scenes into the film, which may disrupt but may also help the others. Obviously, anyone who becomes a disruptive element will sooner or later be written out of the film (“die”).

A conscious player, such as Jesus—who foresees the scenes, as well as who and what will be the disruptive factor, and furthermore, how the film’s purpose—the core of the idea—will be fulfilled despite the disruptive players—rarely enters the game. Most actor-avatars are fewer conscious players who have drifted unconsciously into the role-play driven by their desires and fears (in other words, the unexplored information in their subconscious). This is why every yoga practice emphasizes the cultivation of pure consciousness (which means the elimination of karmic seeds in the subconscious). Unconscious actors, therefore, cannot choose freely; they are left with whatever remains or whatever they are unconsciously drawn to, be it aggression, murder, or inaction. And by playing out a given role, they can further shape their future possibilities.

There’s no point in getting angry at others or at God because you don’t like the role you’ve been given. There is no predetermined fate; you have the opportunity to transform your life, but to do so, you must change, because you are not what you play as an “avatar”—you simply need to recognize your true personality behind the actor. The very reason you can’t play yourself yet is that you don’t know yourself.

Margaret Rhasoda Varga
guru of UCCM
Budapest, Hungary