I think with movies I am really connecting to the Joseph

When Will Smith speaks of movies and the collective unconscious, he draws upon the wisdom of the great storyteller of myths, Joseph Campbell, whose teachings remind us that the tales of humanity are not bound by time, culture, or nation. They arise from the same deep river that runs through every human heart. What Smith proclaims is not merely about cinema, but about the shared dream of all mankind—the mythic language that unites us, the stories we tell not only to entertain, but to remember who we are.

The collective unconscious, as spoken of by Carl Jung and echoed by Campbell, is the hidden library of the soul, a place where ancient archetypes dwell: the hero, the sage, the mother, the trickster, the shadow. These figures walk through myths from Greece to India, from Africa to the Americas, appearing in different garments yet speaking the same truth. Smith, by his craft in film, touches this invisible well, stirring the ancient patterns that lie sleeping within us all. When we watch his performances, it is not merely an actor before us, but a mirror of something eternal in ourselves.

Consider the myth of the Hero’s Journey, which Campbell so carefully unveiled. It begins with the call to adventure, the departure from the familiar, the trials, the allies, the enemies, and the triumphant return. This pattern can be found in Gilgamesh, in Odysseus, in the stories of the Buddha, and in the sagas of warriors and prophets alike. When Smith declares his connection to this idea, he is claiming that movies are not accidents of artifice, but modern temples where the Hero’s Journey is retold. In the darkened theater, we, too, become the traveler, walking paths first trod by our ancestors.

Let us remember the tale of Star Wars, a saga George Lucas crafted under the guidance of Campbell’s wisdom. In Luke Skywalker we see the orphan called to greatness, guided by the sage, tempted by the shadow, and tested in fire until he returns with new light for his people. Millions across the world, from distant lands and different tongues, felt one truth: “This is my story too.” What Smith identifies in his words is the same power—that movies are vessels for these archetypal myths, and that when we watch, we awaken to the truth already written deep within us.

The lesson is not for artists alone, but for all who walk the earth. You must understand: the collective unconscious is not a distant philosophy, but the marrow of your being. When you feel courage rise against despair, you are echoing the hero. When you long for wisdom, you are seeking the sage. When you wrestle with temptation, you are facing the shadow. Movies reveal these truths not because they invent them, but because they remind us of what is already alive within.

What then should you do? First, when you witness a story, do not watch idly—listen with the heart. Ask, “Where am I in this journey? Which archetype calls to me? What trial must I face?” Second, when you tell your own story—through word, through art, through life itself—know that you are partaking in something ancient, something larger than yourself. Your struggle, your victory, your sorrow, your joy, all belong to the same great tapestry of humanity.

Finally, let Smith’s words remind you of the sacred power of movies and of storytelling. Do not dismiss them as mere distraction or passing pleasure. They are vessels of myth, carrying forward the wisdom of generations, binding stranger to stranger with the invisible thread of the collective unconscious. As the ancients gathered around the fire to tell their stories, so we gather around the glowing screen. The fire has changed its form, but the light it casts upon our souls is the same.

Thus, remember: every story is a reflection of the eternal story, and every time you connect to it, you awaken the deeper self within you. Cherish the myths, honor the movies, and walk your own path of the hero, for in doing so, you are fulfilling not only your destiny, but the destiny of all humankind.