Seeing Star Wars Anew Again

This article was originally published at the venerable Coffee With Kenobi

Attack of the Clones was on TBS the other day. I dutifully and joyfully put it on. This under-appreciated episode of the Saga is much maligned, and I think that is wrong. While viewing this visually stunning masterpiece, I realized that I was reciting all of the lines along with the movie. Like some people sing along to “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Sweet Caroline” or “Frankenstein,” I find that speaking along with these movies is comforting and helps me to find new depth in them. So then the question arises: How can we see these movies for what they are, and not what we expect them to be? By this I mean an even more basic question. Can we ever see these movies new again?

For the past decade we have been treated to The Clone Wars and Star Wars Rebels, each of which has offered new insights to Episode II (among other things); and I would say that it has made it an entirely different movie. So, I ask myself, can I see this movie fresh, or is it constantly going to be colored by preconceived notions that I, myself, bring to each viewing? What if I had seen Episode II after the various cartoon series? And if I had, what would have changed? Certainly not the cinematic output, but me. I would have changed with more insight, or having been at a different stage in my life.

The Force and Faith Blog

Crag the Crow is not the only place where I am putting my writing.  I am fascinated with the confluence of  the faith journey and Star Wars. For a few years now, I have been writing about these topics and how they intertwine.  Most of my pieces are at theforceandfaith.blogspot.com.  These and more are also carried at coffeewithkenobi.com.  I hope you enjoy what I have come up with. 

Please take a look over here if you'd like.

The Freedom of the Snow Day

The almighty snow day.  This great interference in the march of the school year.  A break from reality and the stresses we faced.  I wasn’t good at doing my homework or caring about long range projects as a student – from the earliest grades and even up until grad school.  But the snow day broke that cycle.  Nothing could be collected.  Nothing could be assigned.  I don’t know how it is for kids in the 21^st century classroom, but teachers did not take advantage of the so-called wasted time. 

                I remember stomping down the steps of whichever suburban Philly rowhome I was living in at the time.  Just enough steps to see out the window of the front door.  4 or 5 steps.  I was loud, always accused of being an elephant coming down the steps.  But I still thought I was doing something secretive.  And the outside world would appear through a tiny window.  Sometimes a single window which was normally too high for my portly body to reach.  But this perch offered me everything.  The view to the answer that would seal my fate for the day.  Unbridled cold, icicles, snowball fights and games?  Or a frigid death march to the children’s coop?  I will describe both things, and I hope that you might have your memories stirred, too, about each of these days.

Parts of Chapter One

I have this novel in mind.  An entire story, fantastic for sure, but a distillation and mediation on pain and loss.  Occasionally a few pieces of the writing will be shared here, for input and creative criticism.  I look forwarded to hearing your thoughts.

***

Straight overhead was a light blue.  Framed by the green of the high treetops and their strong woody branches, the streaks of the thin clouds move from somewhere behind to somewhere else.  The sun was barely hidden behind the wisps, its waning energies diffused to a soft orange, able to be seen, yet only suggestions of the power from which it came.  This was a beautiful sunset, but beautiful to someone else.  This one was painted for another man, not Gordie.

            Below that celestial painting was an outcropping of eroded rock on top of a seemingly inconsequential hill.  This was not the highest hill in the region, nor did it have any other fantastic features.  The forest receded back from its ledge some twenty paces.  And this last leg of the pilgrimage to adulthood had been made by Gordie a few hours previous.  Three nights ago he had left his most recent home.  He set out to, as the community called it, Watch the Wheel.  It’s a passage to adulthood, like many cultures have.  A young man is ready to cast off his youth and move to independence, and he does it through an effort and a journey.  Each young man is sent to the far river and to this very rock ledge.  That’s it.  It’s simple.  Just go there.  And the journey will take care of everything else.

Just One Goal

Life begins with just one goal.  That goal is honed and the parameters are defined as time goes on.  That goal is salvation.  Transfiguring this life to the one that is to come.  And while we are here, our life is a gift of time to get closer to the goal.  In pursuit of that goal, my thoughts occasionally want to come out in words.  Some of them will be shared here.  Hopefully the drivel from my keyboard will find some use somewhere for someone.