Boat Across the River
Just another WordPress.com weblogArchive for Movies
Joy and Darkness
When you rent a condo by the beach, you never have to go to the beach! You’re always there. It’s a beautiful thing to be lucky enough to do. My daughter said, “I wish I could have a house like this…” Three years old! I said, “You do! For seven days.” And, without the responsibilities of ownership, I might add. As they say, you think you own something, and it ends up owning you. The owners might not know it, but renters have the better deal by far. S. woke up dazed and crying, “I want…I want…!” Isn’t that the natural condition of humanity? We wake up wanting — we don’t even know what it is that we want. Growing up means training yourself not to want beyond what is reasonable. What is reasonable is hard to determine, though.
Is it reasonable or ethical to want anything beyond what we actually need? Is it ethical to go on vacation when there are starving children? Should we save all year and donate thousands to UNICEF? Is it ever okay to go on a trip aimed at enjoying the world we are fortunate enough to be visiting?
We always have a choice to feel joy or to feel darkness. Woody Allen’s character in Annie Hall says, “I-you know, if one guy is starving someplace, that’s … you know, I-I … it puts a crimp in my evening.” Sometimes I have to say, in my mind, to those who suffer greatly: “I remember you. Right now, I must feel the great joy that life has to offer. But while I feel this joy, I remember you who are suffering.”
Childhood
on the big brown couch…
you look so small in the dark,
cross legged in your Jessie nightgown,
cradling in one arm your Jessie doll.
As you watch you hold the ribbon
to your Thomas the Train balloon
that Grandpa gave you Sunday;
the TV lights up the room,
the smile on your face,
and the joy in your eyes.
Birdsong in Heaven
Last week, it was clear that Spring had dawned. The birds announced this fact in no uncertain terms, their songs straight from the Hymnal, hand picked for the season. I especially noticed the cardinal’s lilting tune. I easily spotted him in a nearby tree, red plumage in stark contrast to the still-bare branch, his little throat rippling with an extended song: heartfelt: full of glory. “Notice these things now,” I tell myself. “Your time here is limited.”
I often wonder if we, along with a Higher Power, are co-creators in our afterlives — like in one of my favorite movies, What Dreams May Come. Will we all experience the same thing after our time here is up? Will there be an objective “heaven” or will eternity be more of a subjective experience? For instance, will we all get to hear birdsong for eternity, or will we only get that privilege if we took note of it and loved it while we were here? Do we build our afterlives from our loves and memories, or is it all taken care of for us? How much of this are we responsible for? How many of the great things that are here do we get to take with us? Should I eat as much rhubarb pie now as I possibly can? What if I want to be surrounded by the huge trees of old — landscapes that man has long since detroyed in his attempt to perfect Creation. I can’t possibly have my own personal memories of these places of which I have been robbed, so will my ancestors help me remember once I am on their level? Will they help me have everything I can’t possibly imagine?
These are just questions that occur to me as I ponder my own responsibility to appreciate what I have already been given — I wonder about the part that I play in creating my own reality. Some people will tell me that the Bible says this or that about the afterlife and so I need not think about it or ask questions. That is not my kind of Christianity. Jesus never told us to believe everything in any Bible, and he never wrote a word of it himself. Thus I am left to think…well, to think. For myself. Apparently, Jesus did say that “the Kingdom of Heaven is amongst us.” Like, now.
If we are safe, all our needs met, and if we can’t find Heaven NOW…maybe we never will.
Attraversiamo: “Let’s Cross Over”
On August 21st, I got halfway through Eat, Pray, Love – the movie — before receiving a phone call from my dad to tell us that my grandmother had passed on, or as I like to say (having picked it up from John Edward) crossed over. I noticed after Thanksgiving dinner yesterday that it was available to buy on demand (pay-per-view) so I decided to finish the rest of the story, in memory of Grandma, on a day that we were all really missing her. She really did it up on Thanksgiving (and Christmas)…I know the holidays are always especially poignant when you have lost someone you love. It really was so different without her…change like that is hard for me. I was not in the best mood about all the differences, but I guess there’s no point in trying to re-create traditions when it’s not like that would bring her back.
Anyway, it felt very circular and nice to complete the movie on Thanksgiving Day, almost exactly three months after her death. It felt like a rite of passage for me – especially after 1) my own bizarre experience/ choices in Bali 2) the Thanksgiving scene in the movie, and 3) hearing Liz Gilbert’s words through Julia Roberts at the end, just before she says “attraversiamo” and decides to get in the boat with Javier Bardem:
“I’ve come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call “The Physics of The Quest” – a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity or momentum. And the rule of Quest Physics maybe goes like this: If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared – most of all – to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself…then truth will not be withheld from you.”
Once again, things feel like they are overlapping, crossing over even — that there really are “clues” pointing us toward truth. I thought that I chose the name for my blog because of a Buddhist story I had heard, but now I think Gilbert’s lines must have buried in my subconscious or something because the boat/journey symbolism hit me hard again. I actually can’t remember when I read the book, if it was before or after I started my blog…it doesn’t really matter either way! Just interesting for me to re-think.
Visions, Trips, and Crowded Rooms
Just finished up a short non-fiction read by David Kessler, which is all about deathbed visions. I have read a fair amount about Near Death Experiences, but had never read about the visions of those who did not come back to say what they saw as they were moving on from this life. I was unimpressed with Kessler’s writing per se, but most of the book was not actually written by him. The book was primarily a collection of stories/observations from health-care professionals, family members, and others who were with people at their times of death. So, while I am not a huge fan of Kessler’s writing, I appreciate the trouble he takes to collect, organize, and edit the many fascinating stories in this book. Some of these stories are very dramatic. I especially enjoyed his chapters that deal with deathbed visions pertaining to trips/journeys and visions of rooms crowded with “deceased” family and friends. I enjoyed Kessler’s assertion that, in fact, no one is ever alone when s/he dies.
Ironically, I also watched Clint Eastwood’s new movie today which is called Hereafter. As I was reading Kessler’s book, before I went to the movie, the thought occured to me that I spend too much time thinking about what happens when we die. Near the beginning of the movie, the lines that jumped out at me were spoken by Matt Damon’s character, who is a psychic medium. In justifying why he no longer works professionally as a psychic, he says something like, “I decided that a life focused on death is no kind of life.”
I feel like I need to have a good understanding of death in order to get the most out of my life…and I feel like I’m starting to get somewhere in that regard — not that I think I actually know what happens, but that I am becoming content with what I feel like I do know! Therefore, I think soon, I need to start being careful about how much energy I spend focused on this kind of stuff.
Smart People: Please Have Children
If you are ever in a committed relationship (I can’t imagine how difficult it would be alone in terms of energy required) and sitting on the fence as to whether or not the two of you should adopt or have a child, I would urge you to take the leap. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had! Plus, I am scared that all the smart people, being smart, will consider the overpopulation of the planet, the overextension of its resources, etc., and opt out. But trust me, the crazies are having PLENTY of children and raising them to be crazy, too. Watch the movie Idiocracy. It’s hilariously terrifying. And I can see it happening already! Agghhh!!! Save the planet and raise thoughtful children!
