There I was.
Innocently arriving
at my former mother in law’s home to pick up my bundle of Finn.
No way of knowing
what was about to transpire.
No way at all.
Yes this buildup is
intentionally annoying.
I’m used to doing
the "knock-twice-and-enter-the-premises" routine at her home.
There are two kind, sweet, salt of the earth women living there and both of
them are deaf as posts (whatever that means). And trusting. They
don’t lock the door. Ever. Rather than ringing the doorbell and
hoping to be heard above the din of the television turned up to inconceivable
volumes, I’ve become bold enough to just enter. Social niceties be
damned.
This day no one was
home. No one except my niece (or former niece, I suppose). She’s
17. She hasn’t had an easy life and the last few years have been exceptionally
difficult for her. I won’t go into specifics, but I’ve been filled in on
the goings on in her life and I know she’s always been a sensitive girl.
She feels things very deeply, so I was never shocked to hear that she wasn’t
feeling like she could cope anymore and was giving up on certain things, like
school. I tend to gravitate toward people who are sensitive or deeply
empathetic. I always liked her, but I haven’t really been in her life for
the last 5 years, beyond the occasional small talk (of which I’m NOT a
fan).
Let’s move on to
this day. I bust through the door, as I’ve become accustomed to doing,
and there she is… sitting on the couch… she jumps a little, startled and scared
at the incoming intruder.
“Ahhh, hello
there. Sorry, if I scared you. They never hear me ring the
doorbell…”
She laughs.
“Oh, that’s okay. Grandma took him with her to get her
prescription. They should be back in a minute.”
“Okay. Not a
problem.” I sit down on the couch as well and awkward silence commences.
I happened to notice
what she was wearing. Oversized, flannel Star Wars pajama pants and a
hoodie more suitable for a woman near the end of her pregnancy. I’m
familiar with the outfit. It’s the “I have to be out in the world, but I
really just want to cocoon myself and be as invisible as possible” look.
I don’t know
why. Why on earth I decided that today was the day I was going to breach
a conversation with her, but I can say that I felt it was important for me to
try. If she seemed completely shut down I wasn’t going to push it, but I
just thought I should try. I know the feeling when everyone seems to want
to give you space to feel miserable, but that often just increases and
exacerbates the miserable feelings by having it seem like no one actually cares
that you're feeling miserable.
“Sooo, what’s
new? Things okay?” It seemed innocent enough.
At first she lightly
laughed off the question and said she was okay. But it seemed like she
was also willing to open up with just a little eye contact and a willing
ear. I told her I was there. She could talk to me if she would like
to. The gist of what eventually came out was that she didn’t know
why. Why must life be so hard? And why was it that right when you
just about pick yourself up off the ground and brush yourself off, you’re
knocked on your ass again?!
Gulp.
Well, yeah.
Good question.
I've formed a little
theory in the last few years, related to a film we all know and felt it may be
appropriate-ish here to lighten the mood, but still make a point. So, I
asked if she was a fan of Star Wars or if she just thought the pants were comfy.
Eyebrows raise,
wondering why she just confided to a person asking about her pants after
opening up the fact that she was not happy. But she politely answered,
“Yeah, I'm a nerd. I love it.”
“Okay, good!
Then you’re familiar with The Empire Strikes Back?”
“Yeahhh, but that
one’s not as good as the others.”
I noticed at one
point, and it remains true to this day, that whenever I’ve asked someone what
their favorite Star Wars movie is they invariably answer A New Hope or Return
of the Jedi. So, her answer came as no surprise and is typical of many trilogies. The beginning is full of new people,
new places, plots, excitement, hustle, bustle and all sorts of hijinks.
The ending, obviously, brings resolution to six-plus hours of epic
struggle, villains are vanquished, heroes are heralded, cue triumphant music,
celebratory merriment and the gratuitous slapping of
backs.
OF COURSE PEOPLE LIKE IT.
I’ll admit I wasn’t always a Star Wars
fan. Growing up, I didn’t fully appreciate or understand what was being
accomplished with those movies. It wasn’t until Finn became fascinated
with the movies around 2 years old to the present time that I went from a
cringing, begrudging viewing to one of admiration, respect and
understanding.
But the true genius and vital key to the
success of the entire Star Wars industry, in fact, lies very humbly hidden in
the middle. The real reason we love Luke and Leia, Han and
Chewy, Obi Wan, Yoda, Boba Fett, and even Jabba, is the
all-so-important yet wildly under-appreciated
Empire Strikes Back. Because it is there, in the in-between-ness, that
the magic happens. In the mist and muck of Dagobah, on
the disturbingly rickety catwalks of a Cloud City air shaft, and hanging
out in the middle of nowhere with a bleeding arm stump, THERE
is where Luke endures the soul-stretching trials that will
transform him from whiney teenager to Jedi. Je-di. Freaking Jedi.
All those heart-warming triumphs in Return Of The Jedi would be impossible without The Empire Strikes Back. Could Luke have resisted the temptation of the dark side without first facing his worst fears in that freakish cave Yoda sent him into? Hell no. Would he have had the courage to march into Jabba's palace and make all those ballsy threats if he hadn't fought Vader, lost, flung himself down that airshaft and lived to tell about it? Again--hell no! Would Luke possess the compassion to save his father, the worst guy in the known universe (who blew up entire planets just to watch Leia break a sweat), if he hadn't gone through the character building process of accepting who he truly was and contemplating the profound power of the force? Hellllllll no!
Watch A New Hope and try to say that Luke simply woke up one morning and was like "I think I'll stop throwing tantrums about power converters and save the galaxy, as well as my evil father's soul, cuzzzz I'm feeling quite a bit more noble than I was yesterday." Nope. That's not how it works. Luke had to endure blood, sweat, and tears, have a hand chopped off, cling to an antenna for dear life and carry a muppet around on his back while stomping through swamps and levitating shit. He had to come to terms with the fact that he'd kissed his sister and his dad was trying to kill him. He had to slog through all of that and a whole lot more before he got his due. The resolution, the joyous, badass, high-fiving resolution to it all came only because he slogged first. It is the slogging that made the finish line both possible and a true triumph. It's the gut-wrenching awful middle that made the ending so damn good!
"And so," I say to the sweet girl
next to me "you are in the middle. The slogging. The hard
work. The cave. The trials. The character building. The muppet
on your back. The soul-searching. You’re in The Empire Strikes
Back right now."
"You’re Luke! And you've got all
this amazingness inside you just dying to come forth. You know
it and I know it. It’s just not going to start oozing from your pores
while you binge watch TV in your pajamas. Or consume massive
amounts of ice cream. You have to go through your own Empire
Strikes Back first. Blood, sweat, tears. You have to lose your
hand—your freaking hand!—and maybe even your mind for a bit. You have
to suffer."
"Your Return of The Jedi is on
it's way, no doubt about it.”
"You are Luke…buuut you're in Empire
Strikes Back, and nobody likes the middle as much as they like the
beginning or the ending. That's human nature. But the
middle is what brings about the really good stuff so you need to hang
in. Fight. Dig deep. You know...use the force."
Thus ended my strange talk with her.
This is why I love the Star Wars movies. They’re so oddly
relatable. And I wish I could sit at Yoda’s feet and learn from
him. Alas… I cannot, but at least I have learned a lesson from these
movies. And I guess I offer the lesson freely:
The. Empire. Strikes. Back. Most of us are Luke in one of the movies. We long to be in Return of the Jedi. Don't write yourself off yet. You are Jedi. Hang in.
