There are moments in art when a work does more than tell a story. It invites reflection. It opens space for dialogue. At times, it can even help us see the world, and each other, with greater clarity.

The film Cast Aside the Clouds aspires to be that kind of work—a quiet, searching story that moves beyond entertainment to become a space for moral inquiry and collective understanding.

At its center is Layla, a young Bahá’í woman in Iran navigating systemic persecution, and Sasan, a secular doctor shaped by the very structures that oppress her. Their relationship unfolds with tenderness and tension, revealing both the fragility and strength of human connection. When Layla is imprisoned for her faith, the story deepens into a reflection on moral courage, conscience, and the cost of seeing truth clearly.

The story is rooted in Iran, the cradle of the Bahá’í Faith, a land described in the Bahá’í writings as home to “the sore-tried and faithful followers of the Beloved of the world in the Cradle of the Faith” (The Universal House of Justice, 23 August 2022). These words evoke both a profound spiritual heritage and a long history of sacrifice.

One reason we were compelled to tell this story is the role of young people as agents of change. The film highlights how youth can question inherited assumptions, seek truth independently, and overcome entrenched prejudice. Through its depiction of the Bahá’í community in Iran, it reveals the damage caused by religious persecution, one of the most persistent barriers to building a just society. At the same time, it points to resilience, moral courage, and unity in the face of injustice.

Ultimately, the story invites viewers to examine their own assumptions, to think more deeply, and to recognize the capacity of young people to contribute to a more just and compassionate world.

This perspective resonates with the Bahá’í teachings, which place deep trust in the potential of youth. As Abdu’l-Baha wrote:

The youth must become distinguished in all the virtues of the human world—for faithfulness and sincerity, for justice and fidelity, for firmness and steadfastness… – The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 114.

Yet the film is not only about hardship. It is also about love across divides, the possibility of transformation, and the quiet strength of those who remain steadfast. Bahá’u’lláh wrote:

Be not grieved if thou performest it thyself alone. Let God be all-sufficient for thee. – Gleanings from the Writing of Baha’u’llah, p. 87

This spirit of perseverance is reflected in Layla’s journey. It echoes the experience of many Bahá’ís in Iran, who have endured decades of persecution with dignity, holding fast to their beliefs despite profound challenges.

At the same time, Cast Aside the Clouds reflects a broader shift, not only in the stories we tell, but in how we create them.

For many years, filmmaking has been shaped by control over narrative, production, and audience engagement. Success has often been measured by scale, visibility, and market validation. This project emerged from a different posture, one that values collaboration, openness, and humility.

Rather than presenting the film as a finished product, the process itself invited dialogue. It brought together multiple voices and perspectives, allowing the story to evolve through consultation and shared insight. This approach reflects a central principle of the Bahá’í Faith. 

Baha’u’llah wrote:

Consultation is the lamp of guidance which leadeth the way, and is the bestower of understanding. – Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, p. 59

Consultation requires humility, a recognition that no single perspective is complete. It calls for listening, openness, and a willingness to be transformed by others.

Today, audiences are no longer passive recipients of stories. They engage, question, and contribute to the meaning of what they experience. The conversation surrounding a work has become part of the work itself.

From a Bahá’í perspective, this reflects humanity’s growing capacity for collective learning. As ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote:

The shining spark of truth cometh forth only after the clash of differing opinions. – Selections from the Writings of Abdu’l-Baha, p. 36.

Such consultation calls for humility. It invites participants to listen deeply, to set aside attachment to individual viewpoints, and to remain open to truth as it emerges through collective effort.

Storytelling can become one of the spaces where this kind of learning takes shape, where people encounter one another with greater empathy and understanding.

The way Cast Aside the Clouds came into being reflects this same spirit. It was supported by individuals who believed in its message and chose to help bring it to life. This kind of shared effort invites a rethinking of success.

In film, success is often measured in numbers, box office returns, streaming metrics, awards. But another measure may be more enduring. It may be found in the depth of engagement, the quality of relationships formed, and the sincerity of the effort. Bahá’u’lláh wrote:

Let your vision be world-embracing, rather than confined to your own self. – Gleanings from the Writings of Baha’u’llah, p. 29.

There is also a quiet power in the film’s scale. In an industry that often equates significance with spectacle, this story chooses intimacy. It does not try to be louder. It seeks to be more honest. And honesty, grounded in humility, has a way of resonating. As Bahá’u’lláh wrote:

The essence of all that We have revealed for thee is Justice. – Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh, p. 54.

Justice begins within. It requires a willingness to see clearly, to recognize truth, and to act with integrity, even when it is difficult.

Through the journey of its characters, Cast Aside the Clouds invites us to reflect on our own choices. How do we respond to injustice? How do we confront our assumptions? And how might humility open the door to deeper understanding?

Ultimately, the film points to a hopeful possibility. Storytelling itself can contribute to social transformation, not by asserting certainty, but by inspiring new questions and moving us to act differently. As Baha’u’llah wrote:

So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth. – Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, p. 90.

In a time often marked by division, even a modest work can help illuminate that light. When humility, unity, and sincerity guide our efforts, and when young people are empowered to act with courage and clarity, new possibilities begin to emerge.

Know then that the Lord God possesseth invisible realms which the human intellect can never hope to fathom nor the mind of man conceive. When once thou hast cleansed the channel of thy spiritual sense from the pollution of this worldly life, then wilt thou breathe in the sweet scents of holiness that blow from the blissful bowers of that heavenly land. – Abdu’l-Baha, Selections from the Writings of Abdu’l-Baha, p. 185.

Every Faith and culture speaks of a spiritual dimension; an invisible realm of beauty and light, a place of ancestors and spiritual beings.

It is not some faraway place ‘out there.’ There is no separation, just a thin veil. We are like infants in the womb, growing and developing our capacities until we are born into that realm. Although the infant may be unaware of the next world and think it is alone: the veil between this world and the next is the caul we wear like a cloak, the placenta connecting us with our mother.

From my childhood and youth I was blessed to have Indigenous friendships and relationships, and for a time lived on the Wind River Indian Reservation in Wyoming. While each Faith has beliefs around the spiritual dimension, many struggle to understand what those teachings mean in practical terms. One of the greatest joys in my life has been to witness Indigenous spiritual technologies as lived forms of honoring intimate relationships with those who have passed on. There are many tools for bridging the physical and spiritual realm that all Indigenous communities are gifted with and, like communities of scientists around the world, have spent thousands of generations crafting and refining.

Some people understand Western science to be ‘objective’ and ‘universal,’ however there is growing appreciation in the culture of Western science that scientific understanding is impacted by the very act of observation. It is relative. One might say that understanding is about relationships.

That moment when we have the flash of insight where all the connections are made and when we deeply know, we feel it in our body. It could be said that we do not know something until we feel it in our body. Until universal truths and principles have become localized in our experience, we cannot really be said to know them. Einstein was able to develop his mathematical model of the theory of relativity because when he was a young man he had a dream or vision of what it felt like to ride a ray of light. He then began to translate that subjective experience into mathematical expressions of the universal. In his own later work, Einstein made explicit the importance of subjective experience as perhaps the most important ground of discovery.

It would be a disservice and indeed false to pretend that the perspective of the observer did not impact the nature of what is being observed. While these understandings have emerged with Einstein’s insights, and those of others, Indigenous peoples have known this for many generations. It is why stories of lived experience are a form of teaching these spiritual technologies.

Within that ancient form of storytelling is both an honoring of the subjective nature of observation and an intellectual humility that invites the listener to explore their own understanding.

After I wrote the first draft of these stories I was asked to explain and clarify some of the spiritual principles in them. I hesitated for a long time before attempting this. I remembered a practice of my Elders. When telling their stories, I’ve rarely, if ever, seen an Elder stop her or his story to explain what it ‘means’ to those listening. There is a wisdom to this, as each person will take away from the story what they are ready to understand, and that which they are not yet ready to understand will remain waiting for their discovery as they mature. To try to explain it before they are ready could actually prevent them from the natural step of learning it later in an integrated way. More importantly perhaps, I paused from attempting to ‘explain’ because I’ve noticed that every so often in my life, I have a realization that one of my fundamental assumptions about reality was completely wrong.

Over time the frequency of these realizations of my own ignorance have increased. Why then should I ‘explain’ what made the miracles in these stories happen? That would be like deciding that I should crystalize one stage of my ignorance as ‘Truth.’ So I’ve made a compromise and sometimes explained my current understanding of the spiritual principles at work. My greatest hope is that this will invite you to further practice your own independent investigation of spiritual reality. Faith, Belief and Trust are not just ‘firm thoughts’. They are Practice:

Let us endeavour from day to day to become more spiritual, to bring about the unity of the human world, to practice human equality, to diffuse the divine mercy, to show the love of God to all those who are on the earth, so that the spiritual faculties may shine in all their splendour; that no authority remain to the body, so that the spirit, which sustains and rules the human world, may form one being, one person. – Abdu’l-Baha, Star of the West, Volume 2, p. 5.

This series of essays are from Chris Kavelin’s book Nudges from Grandfather can be found on Amazon.

You can also download the audio book.

Next: The Well-Guarded Secret

(This conversation took place on an American Airlines flight on Memorial Day.)

I get on the plane and find my aisle seat. A GI in digital desert combat fatigues sits at the window one empty seat away, reading. I see his shoulder patch.

“10th Mountain Division, huh?” I ask.

“Oh,” he says, putting down his book. “Nah, I just wear their patch.”

I lift my eyebrows and laugh. “Really. Well, nice to meet you. Hundred-and-first Airborne.”

“Screaming Eagles.”

“Puking buzzards.” Both of us laugh. He extends his hand and we shake.

“Vietnam?”

“Afghanistan?”

“And Iraq. Eight friggin’ tours.”

“Wow. You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“I hate war.”

“Been in that movie. You all-volunteer-Army guys are startin’ to sound like us miserable draftees did back in the day.”

“Man, right now I’m headed back to Afghanistan. Okay, in the last twelve months I got four Purple Hearts. Four!” He holds up four fingers. His hand shakes a little, and in his eyes I see the telltale fixity of PTSD, the standard-issue combat veteran’s thousand-yard stare.

“Yikes,” I say, surprised. “Vietnam — three Hearts and you were done. Army shipped you home. Three-time winners, we called ‘em.”

“Yeah, well, that’s ancient history. Not no more,” the soldier says, his eyes beginning to brim with tears. None fall. “Oh, man, it is so horrible. Well, you know what I’m talkin’ about. And I hear these clueless patriots defending this war, they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. Bad guys!! I hate that phrase! There aren’t any bad guys. There’s just a bunch of people just like me on both sides, everybody trying to kill the guy that’s trying to kill you. Those people we’re fightin’, they’re just like us, man.”

“Yup. Anybody’s been in combat knows that. Viet Cong, they were some brave people, just trying to get us out of their country. Bad guys — sounds like something a four-year-old would say.”

He looks at me. “Um, you don’t sound like the typical GI, dude.”

“I was a conscientious objector,” I tell him. “I’m a Baha’i, so I didn’t carry a weapon.”

“Really. What’d you do?”

“Combat medic.”

“Dang. Hard core. That’s cool. I know some Baha’is back home in Arkansas. Good folks.”

“Thanks. We try. Baha’i writings say

‘Let none contend with another, and let no soul slay another.’”

He looks out the window, thinking. A few moments of silence pass.

“You know,” he tells me, “some people in the airport back there bought me lunch, thanked me for what I’m doing. If they only knew.” He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“Know what you mean,” I say. His eyes open, meeting mine for the first time.

“Maybe it’s better,” he says quietly, “if they don’t know.”

“You think?” I ask. “Maybe if people actually knew what war was like, they wouldn’t be so ready to send guys like you and me.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe these civilians who bought me lunch – one of ‘em said ‘We kicked the Taliban out of Afghanistan.’ We. I mean, I was polite, but I felt like saying ‘What do you mean ‘We’, Mr. Bermuda shorts? I didn’t see you over there. And it ain’t no video game either. You mess up you don’t get no do-over. Dead is dead. These people with their yellow ribbon stickers on their bumpers, they don’t have a clue.”

His sudden agitation makes him pause.

I ask “Think you’ll get over it, man?”

“Did you?”

I shake my head no.

“That’s harsh.”

“There it is.”

Then a voice on the PA interrupts all conversations and says, too loud and with feeling: “On behalf of our pilot and first officer and our entire flight crew, we just want to thank the brave men and women of our Armed Forces, who give so much to defend our American freedoms!!”

Everyone on the plane claps loudly, except the GI and me. He silently shakes his head back and forth and rolls his eyes ruefully. His expression slowly turns to disgust as the applause on the airplane swells.

A broadly smiling flight attendant comes down the aisle, reaches over and taps him on the shoulder. She says loudly “There is one seat left in first class, and it would be my honor and pleasure to give it to you!”

The GI shakes his head again, frowns deeply, gets up and collects his carry-on. He reaches out a hand to shake.

“Good luck, man,” I say. “Keep the greasy side down.”

“Thanks. And the shiny side up,” he says with a faint smile. “You know, I’m’a need some luck, buddy. So how can I find out more about this Baha’i Faith?”

Religions begin when a prophet first announces a new revelation, just as Christ did to John the Baptist or the Buddha did to his first two disciples, Trapusa and Bahalika.

That’s how religions are always born—a messenger of God receives a revelation and begins to share the new and yet ancient wisdom with others. The prophet’s message spreads, people follow it, and the revelation creates an entirely new reality, upending the old ways and eventually altering entire civilizations.

In that exact same way the Bab, the young herald of the Baha’i Faith and the founder of its revolutionary precursor the Babi Faith, declared his mission on May 22, 1844 to a young seeker named Mulla Husayn.

Just six years and six weeks later, on July 9th, 1850, the Bab would die in a hail of bullets from a huge firing squad, summarily executed by a Persian government that feared the potent power of the Bab’s message, the stunningly rapid growth of his new Faith, and the sacrificial devotion evinced by tens of thousands of his followers.

Baha’is believe that the Bab–a title which means “the Gate”–opened the way for the eventual establishment of the unity of humanity. So who was the Bab, whose declaration people all around the world celebrate today?

The Bab was Siyyid Ali Muhammad, born in Shiraz, in the province of Fars, Persia in 1819. (Siyyid means “descended from the lineage of the prophet Muhammad”) Born into a family of merchants and traders; raised by his maternal uncle after the premature death of his father in 1826; a mystic descended from many generations of mystical Sufis; known from childhood for his wisdom, intelligence and humility; the Bab inaugurated a movement comparable only to the birth of Christianity:

The passion of Jesus Christ, and indeed His whole public ministry, alone offer a parallel to the Mission and death of the Bab, a parallel which no student of comparative religion can fail to perceive or ignore. In the youthfulness and meekness of the Inaugurator of the Babi Dispensation; in the extreme brevity and turbulence of His public ministry; in the dramatic swiftness with which that ministry moved towards its climax; in the apostolic order which He instituted, and the primacy which He conferred on one of its members; in the boldness of His challenge to the time-honored conventions, rites and laws which had been woven into the fabric of the religion He Himself had been born into; in the role which an officially recognized and firmly entrenched religious hierarchy played as chief instigator of the outrages which He was made to suffer; in the indignities heaped upon Him; in the suddenness of His arrest; in the interrogation to which He was subjected; in the derision poured, and the scourging inflicted, upon Him; in the public affront He sustained; and, finally, in His ignominious suspension before the gaze of a hostile multitude—in all these we cannot fail to discern a remarkable similarity to the distinguishing features of the career of Jesus Christ. – Shoghi Effendi, God Passes By, pp. 56-57.

On this day, Baha’is believe—a few hours after sunset on May 22, 1844—a new era of faith began, a renewal of the eternal promise of religion itself. Soon many thousands became followers of the Bab, who abrogated the laws of the past and declared that he had come to pave the way for another prophet of God, the Promised One of All Ages, who would found a universal and unifying world religion.

Historians who study the enormous societal transformation the Bab initiated often remark on the virulent persecution his message engendered:

The fire of His eloquence, the wonder of His rapid and inspired writings, His extraordinary wisdom and knowledge, His courage and zeal as a reformer, aroused the greatest enthusiasm among His followers, but excited a corresponding degree of alarm and enmity among the orthodox Muslims. The Shi’ih doctors vehemently denounced Him, and persuaded the Governor of Fars, namely Husayn Khan, a fanatical and tyrannical ruler, to undertake the suppression of the new heresy. Then commenced for the Bab a long series of imprisonments, deportations, examinations before tribunals, scourgings and indignities, which ended only with His martyrdom in 1850 … In consequence of these declarations of the Bab and the alarming rapidity with which people of all classes, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, were eagerly responding to His teaching, attempts at suppression became more and more ruthless and determined. Houses were pillaged and destroyed. Women were seized and carried off. In Tihran, Fars, Mazindaran, and other places great numbers of the believers were put to death. Many were beheaded, hanged, blown from the mouths of cannon, burnt or chopped to pieces. Despite all attempts at repression, however, the movement progressed. – Dr. J.E. Esslemont, Baha’u’llah and the New Era, pp. 14-16.

Abdu’l-Baha described the Declaration of the Bab and the sacrifices his followers made in a speech he gave in the United States on the anniversary of the Bab’s declaration:

On this day in 1844 the Bab was sent forth heralding and proclaiming the Kingdom of God, announcing the glad tidings of the coming of Baha’u’llah and withstanding the opposition of the whole Persian nation. Some of the Persians followed Him. For this they suffered the most grievous difficulties and severe ordeals. They withstood the tests with wonderful power and sublime heroism. Thousands were cast into prison, punished, persecuted and martyred. Their homes were pillaged and destroyed, their possessions confiscated. They sacrificed their lives most willingly and remained unshaken in their faith to the very end. Those wonderful souls are the lamps of God, the stars of sanctity shining gloriously from the eternal horizon of the will of God. – The Promulgation of Universal Peace, p. 138.

Baha’is rejoice and celebrate every year on the anniversary of the Declaration of the Bab, which sounded the great call for the unity of all peoples, cultures, nations and religions:

Know thou that first and foremost in religion is the knowledge of God. This attaineth its consummation in the recognition of His divine unity … – The Bab, Selections from the Writings of the Bab, p. 117.

New religions begin when a prophet of God receives a divine revelation—a mystical transference of inspiration, knowledge and spiritual power from the Creator. With Buddha, with Abraham, with Jesus, with Muhammad, with the Bab and Baha’u’llah, this same basic pattern took place. Each of those prophets opened the path to a new level of human consciousness. Baha’is all around the world believe that the Bab brought into being the means for the eventual establishment of the unity of humanity.

We all have moments of joy in life – but how would you like to live in a lasting state of joy, rather than just experiencing those quickly passing moments of transitory happiness?

To do that, let’s look at the difference between happiness and joy.

Joy is an abiding state of long-lasting happiness, not just a transitory mood or a pleasurable whim. True joy comes from a deeper place, less of a momentary cheerfulness but rather an inner capacity that feels fulfilled. The non-material things in life bring about joy, while that fleeting feeling of happiness comes primarily from materialistic fulfillment.

RELATED: 4 Ways to Choose Happiness in a Time of Crisis

In a speech he gave in Paris, Abdu’l-Baha defined joy as the emotion that allows our hearts to fly:

Joy gives us wings! In times of joy our strength is more vital, our intellect keener, and our understanding less clouded. We seem better able to cope with the world and to find our sphere of usefulness.

Joy gives us a deeper perspective, too, one less influenced by our idle fancies or temporary notions. So what creates joy? The small things may bring you a temporary sense of happiness, while joy is the one big thing that can come to you unbidden. That is the difference between the two – we can search for happiness and find it in our daily lives, while joy simply appears when we least expect it. This can happen in different forms, one example being healthy and affectionate relationships with people you love. The Baha’i teachings say that those bonds and positive emotions, the non-materialistic things which can help us arrive at a state of joy, always come from our inner spiritual lives – never the material aspects: 

… all the sorrow and the grief that exist come from the world of matter – the spiritual world bestows only the joy!

If we suffer it is the outcome of material things, and all the trials and troubles come from this world of illusion.

… the trials which beset our every step, all our sorrow, pain, shame and grief, are born in the world of matter; whereas the spiritual Kingdom never causes sadness. A man living with his thoughts in this Kingdom knows perpetual joy. The ills all flesh is heir to do not pass him by, but they only touch the surface of his life, the depths are calm and serene.

… Let us turn our hearts away from the world of matter and live in the spiritual world! It alone can give us freedom!

Abdu’l-Baha implied that joy is the memorization of happiness:

When a man has found the joy of life in one place, he returns to that same spot to find more joy. When a man has found gold in a mine, he returns again to that mine to dig for more gold. This shows the internal force and natural instinct which God has given to man, and the power of vital energy which is born in him.

RELATED: If Money Can’t Buy Happiness, What Does?

We humans can better understand the feeling of pure joy and what gives us that fulfillment by spending more of our time in the spiritual world – the world of prayer, meditation, and absorbing the word of God. Using those spiritual tools, joy doesn’t have to rely on anything temporary. To achieve joy, these ongoing spiritual practices will help you be optimistic and look at the world with an open and loving eye. A 2013 letter written on behalf of the Universal House of Justice, the democratically-elected leadership body of the Baha’i Faith, explains:

The inner joy that every individual seeks, unlike a passing emotion, is not contingent on outside influences; it is a condition, born of certitude and conscious knowledge, fostered by a pure heart, which is able to distinguish between that which has permanence and that which is superficial.

In this spirit, we can welcome the negative things in life and trust that better times will come. Happiness is circumstantial. Joy is a choice and mindset.