| Advertising |
|
|
|
|
Unless you love, your life will flash by.
~Mrs. O’Brien, Mother, The Tree of Life
For our tenth anniversary, we went to see the film, The Tree of Life. I don't typically review movies here, but this film was so affecting, I'd feel remiss in not writing about it.
The movie was intensely moving, thought-provoking, and introspective to the point that I may have been in tears as much as not while watching it. So vast in its scope – the meaning of life – that even with it’s more than 2 hours of running time, it was barely able to scratch the surface of why we’re here, yet was able to distill the feelings of human experience (white, middle class, Christian, mid 20th-century human experience, it should be noted) with remarkable poignancy and intimacy.
Along with the immensity of nature, creation, evolution, and existence, there were expertly woven intricate vignettes of the often uncelebrated moments of life which have shaped us (which many of us humans have filed away in our memories, all but forgotten until this film expertly – and even painfully – extracts them; see: crying through most of the film, above): the smallness of a newborn’s foot, the willfulness of a toddler, jealousy and then conspiracy with a sibling, the joy and freedom of spinning in circles as a child, learning to trust and then losing that trust, the reassuring touch of mother, the disapproving look of father and the pride felt at his acceptance, the way music can get inside and move you, the loneliness of being human – knowing only your own thoughts, and never really knowing another’s, the rush and tumble of feelings when you do something which you know is wrong, the fear of the unknown, the rawness of learning to forgive, the strangeness and confusion of learning of the presence of the opposite sex, the freedom and otherworldliness of swimming underwater, the deep pain of loss and the ineptness of those around trying to explain and soothe it. And intertwined with the concreteness of our everyday lives, were mammoth metaphors of birth, death, rebirth, god, nature, heaven.
The film was propelled by breathtaking beauty, poignant music, and immense symbolism. Channeling deep emotion through gifted acting, we experienced the struggle of children to grow, of parents to teach and guide and love, of the pain of loss, and of the constant effort of humans to understand where we came from, where we are going, and why we are here.
Interestingly, some viewers left the theatre mid-movie (I’d heard, ahead of watching the film, that people have been very polarized in their reception of this movie). Understandably, this film isn’t for everyone. It is unapologetically spiritual – yet… firmly embedded in naturalism. It attempts to expose feelings that we may prefer to keep hidden; so at times it was difficult to watch. It is sprawling, occasionally slow-moving, abstract, and non-linear in its storyline. But in spite of any of those potential drawbacks, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a film more real. If only for the sheer beauty and uniqueness of film, it’s worth a watch; but I came away from it with a more tangible understanding of what I’ve already known and felt: that we all are part of one another and of the earth. And that truly there is nothing more important – no matter what you believe about our inception or destination – than loving and appreciating what we have and where we are, now. Right now.
| Advertising |
|
|
|
|
|
|
I just watched a doomsday scenario documentary with Adam called Collapse. It compared our current society, and the path we’re on, with other mega cultures that had collapsed in our not-too-distant world history - like the Mayans & the Romans. The documentary touched on nearly every problem the world has currently; from our energy crisis to our financial collapse to our widespread overuse of chemical pesticides & fertilizers and genetically modified seeds to our global water shortage to our involvement in war and escalating violence to our general discounting and disregarding of global warming. The film certainly didn’t paint a pretty picture (nor was it particularly riveting, but, this isn’t a movie review, so I’ll leave it at un-pretty picture). The film left me uneasy, worried, and yet... just a little smug. After all, we recycle our bottles and junk mail. We eat organic foods. We teach our kids to care for the animals and plants of the earth. We practice peaceful parenting. We’re doing okay, I thought. Sure, living a bit further inland and away from the big city centers might be safer. Living on our own land, with a self-sustaining farm could be prudent (not to mention lovely). Driving an electric car, that we could plug into our off-the-grid house, powered by our own solar panels – it’s a nice dream.
(photo source: icicp.org)
Feeling slightly less anxious, I trundled up to bed, nose in my iPhone, only to discover that there was major rioting on the streets of London. LONDON for goodness’ sake. Not Baghdad or Mogadishu. London. In Jolly old England. The fact that Morrissey’s old refrain, “Panic on the streets of London. I wonder to myself: Could ever life ever be sane again?” was playing out in real life - just across the ocean - was maybe more unsettling even than the documentary I’d just watched predicting the nearly inevitable collapse of the entire world within the near future. If London was out of control, what was next? Are we headed for collapse, like our distant ancestors? I didn’t sleep soundly last night.
(photo source: thetelegraph.co.uk)
This morning, while driving to work (in my gas-powered minivan), I listened to NPR report on the stock market’s continued decline, further UK rioting, and their unfortunately-not-awkward segue increasing problem of flash mob violence in Philadelphia – just a few short miles from my home. I spent the day on my computer, undoubtedly powered, at least in part, by non-renewable resources, and I wondered to myself: is recycling our plastic bottles really enough? Is teaching my children to love the earth, and strive for peace enough? I can’t close my eyes enough to block out everything – not when London is burning in my Tweetstream.
What can we do? What do you do?
Inception, Reality, and Parenting
|
| Advertising |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Last year, in celebration of our 9th (and 16th) anniversary, Adam and I went to see the movie Inception. We saw it, in fact, on our anniversary, in a movie theatre. We both enjoyed that movie to the extreme; and have even watched it a second time, since. We were both so affected by the content, the message, and basic the idea of the film that after the initial viewing, I remember we could hardly drive home – distracted as we were by thinking of and talking through the meaning of this movie. Processing continued the entire night: our interpretations, how we experienced it together, and… what that really means in the larger journey of life.
(A still from Inception - checking on reality)
Which is what this post about, sort of. I won’t give away the movie, in case you haven’t seen it (which, if you haven’t, what are you waiting for, seriously? Go buy it, rent it, whatever – just see it), but I will say, in general, it calls into question the idea of reality – individual and shared realities. Illusions. Dreams. Thoughts that you thought were your own. That maybe weren’t.
It asks us: how do we define our reality? Is reality what we see? Or, is it what we want to see? Or maybe, what others see or want us to see? Maybe even what we’ve been told we should be seeing?
I remember in a figure art class once, I had a professor who said no one’s interpretation of the figure in front of us was wrong, because we all see it differently. Every single one of us is actually. Seeing. A different. Thing. That even if we stood in the exact same place as that person, we’d just see it differently. Because what we see around us is based on our experiences, our memories, our current state of mind. Perhaps a figure model may appear voluptuous to an artist who comes from a family who trends towards lean and lank; while the very same model appears far too skinny to one who is familiar with a more hearty body type. She asked us if we thought five people could agree on how to describe the color of said model’s skin. Heck, even two people. It couldn’t be done. Because… how DO you describe color? Light, tone, shade --- all subjective; all individual. Yet, all of us looked at the figure, and drew her, and she was there - recognizable to us all on our myriad canvases as a human figure. A shared experience, and yet – each representation, each manifestation was different.
So I wonder sometimes about reality. As in – what is it? Is it really just what is happening as time passes – like a video camera? Or is it more of what I’m projecting on to my surroundings and then, how I’ve remembered those projections? Is someone above pulling the strings? Is our life a set path we’re just walking or stumbling down? Or am I creating the path as I walk it? And, can I create the path for someone walking it with me? Or do they see a different path, even in spite of my best intentions of making that path clear and defined?
It reminds me of parenting. Each of us as parents are living through raising our children sharing experiences – pregnancy, birth, feeding, diapering, sleeping (or lack thereof), and we all try to help and support one another, understand each other, and yet… even within these shared experiences, each of us choose (or perhaps were pushed) down different paths. And at the end of these paths – well, we all have a similar destination in mind: healthy, happy children. But our interpretations of how to get there, and what the path looks and feels like, varies so widely. What is right? What is… real? And is that really the right way? Is it what our babies are experiencing – the rightness that we feel? What ARE they experiencing? How can we tell when they can’t tell us? We try to interpret their cries – but even two parents sharing very similar parenting views can interpret a baby’s needs very differently. Because there is no standardized test for the tools and measurements we’re using to help us with our interpretations: our own experiences, our own memories of childhood, perhaps our mother’s or doctor’s or friend’s experience, all of these inputs make individualized changes and alterations to our tools. But do any of these tools really help us understand or experience what it is that our children are actually experiencing through our parenting?
I think of a time I’d been driving in the car with my children – them in the back, reading, singing, talking – basically blissfully unaware of my bad mood in the front (with the music on so they can’t hear me grumbling, and my sunglasses on so they can’t see me scowling). I asked them later about our drive and they said it was fun – of course it was, Mom. If you’d asked me, I’d have told you I had a lousy one. But we were all in that car together, right? I did feel lousy. They did feel good. So, which reality is real?
(My kids, experiencing their own realities... as I always follow behind with the camera)
Have you ever had an experience that has stayed with you? Something important – say a wedding. Or childbirth. You remember it so vividly. Details you swear are real. Yet, have you ever spoken those details to someone who was there with you, only to have them say, oh, really? I don’t remember that part at all. Or, even worse – no, it didn’t happen like that (it didn’t? It didn’t??).
It’s not really a comforting thought – these alternate realities: Shared realities. Realities altered by the way we remember them. Because if my own reality can’t be trusted, how real is it?
But then, I think over the going on seventeen years with Adam and the last going on seven years with our children and how I’ve experienced my reality of those years. I know I remember things the way I’ve decided to remember them. And maybe that involves changing my memories with time. Or, maybe my memories reflect the way things really happened. Really, that is, at least for me. I feel warm and comforted by those memories.
I like to believe – since we are still together and enjoying the experience of togetherness, and our children are growing and thriving, and continuing to amaze us, and expressing joy at being with us each day both in their here & now, and their memories – that Adam’s reality of our relationship and our children’s reality of our family are all similar. Or… at least that we’re all comfortable in our shared experiences, different as they may be. There is solace in that – our journey is a good, and happy, and peaceful one. Maybe the particular details of the paths we take – all of us humans, individuals, parents – don’t matter as much as we all like to believe.
14 Good Movies and List Love.
|
| Advertising |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Lists. My days are filled with them: emails yet to read, things that need to be done, folks whose calls I’ve missed, songs that’ve played in itunes, groceries to buy, movies to watch…
Truthfully, I love lists. Writing them, crossing them off, iPhoning them, emailing them, saving them, reading them.
I use lists to stay motivated! I find it exciting to be able to cross things off a list – and the yearning to see a list full of strike-thrus is just what I need sometimes to get going, or keep going. I make a white board “to-do” list with the kids almost daily. At the beginning of this year, I blogged my New Year’s Resolution list (of course, creating a list to stay motivated doesn’t actually guarantee those things will be done).
I create lists to remember things. How many times have I been to the grocery store, standing in the middle of an aisle, with two children buzzing around me, and myself knowing what I needed to get is… right there… on the tip of my tongue… (if only I’d made a list!)
I start them to stay organized! If I know my day is going to be full, I have a lot to get done, and perhaps not quite enough time (is there ever enough time?), I create a list with approximate times assigned to each task. Okay, maybe I’m a little weird, but it keeps me focused, and helps the kids know what to expect next.
Sometimes? I make lists purely for fun.
Like the time I challenged myself to pick 10 music albums I couldn’t live without, if I were stranded on a desert island. Or, when I reached out to my Twitter followers & asked for their favorite emotional songs. Or, when I listed the tunes I most liked to sing to my babies.
These last couple of weeks, following a fun list-making challenge offered up by one of our co-workers, I spent creating a list of my Top 100 Favorite Movies. I was excited, and challenged by this list idea! Ranking one hundred movies? Impossible! Yet, once I got into the process, I realized there were actually FAR more than 100 movies that I’d consider for the list, and when I got down to the nitty gritty, there were quite a few that ended up not making the cut. I won’t bore you with the whole list (assuming that you and I may not enjoy lists to the same extent). But, I will give you the first 14. Why 14? Because #14 happens to be a movie about a fella who likes… making lists. So, here:
1) Life is Beautiful (La Vita è Bella)
2) The Princess Bride
3) The Abyss
4) Running on Empty
5) Say Anything
6) The Sound of Music
7) Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind
8) E.T.
9) The Shawshank Redemption
10) Stand by Me
11) The Graduate
12) Gorillas in the Mist
13) Willow
14) High Fidelity
**Editing to add: I recently saw Inception. Which means, that pretty much everyone on this list would get bumped down one (though I haven't decided whether Inception is #1 or #3). But because I mention a list of 14 so many times, I won't change everything up - for posterity.**
Interestingly, as I looked over my list, I realized how many (seven) of those top 14 have a lot to do with music. Maybe all movies have a lot to do with music. Or maybe that’s why I’m drawn to certain films. I’m not sure I see any deeper meaning ther, but... it’s just interesting. Yet another reason I like lists – sometimes you discover things you wouldn’t have otherwise.
Also interestingly, Adam took on this challenge around the same time as I. We didn’t collude with one another, yet, when all was said & done, we ended up with 66 of the same movies on our lists! Wow. I guess that’s what happens when you share 16 years of your life with someone. Add that to my list of things I love about my husband. Great taste in movies.
So, do you like making lists? Tell me about your favorite lists. Or, I’d take a list of your top 14 too.