The Unnoticed Symbolism in Our Calendar's Year End Arc.

A brief thought on yet another ending cycle.

We of the Gregorian calendar fandom in the U.S. are wrapping up the last, and most important, of the year’s arcs.  It starts, as all things do, with death. Halloween is a celebration of the Past draped in a white sheet with two holes for eyes. The ghosts, ghouls and preternatural fixings are players acting as a signpost guiding us in a single direction: that which came before. In other words, it’s a holiday for resurrecting our individual and collective memories.

As the shadows of night fade into the East of morning, so too can our sight of the Past and of its lessons. Take notes. The Past is wasted upon ghosts, yet it springs to life in our service when carried into the Present. Arms now full, we rest briefly upon the crossroads of Thanksgiving. Here we celebrate the offspring of Knowledge (past) and Effort (present): The Harvest. And celebrate we should, as sometimes the Cornucopia yields only bitter lessons to fill our aching stomachs. But don’t lose hope. Those years that come to us all. Remember: lessons put our individual or collective memory blossom into the gift of new Knowledge. A wonderful feast, indeed.

Speaking of gifts, here comes Christmas faster than a speeding planogram. Jests aside, Christmas is a celebration of altruism, made possible after we Harvest environments stable enough to allow us non-survival seconds in which to ponder non-self depths. We’re encouraged to be better humans, and ponder what the world could be, might be if that pursuit, no matter how small, was the year-round norm. And that, kids, is the true meaning of Christmas: it is all about the future. Gifts are carried into the future. Acts of kindness are carried into the future. A warm greeting is carried into the future. Goodwill is carried into the future. Our own journey is a path only ever found under steps yet to fall.    

Past, Present, and Future arcing just in time to turn the page to whatever cute chicken or posed pile of puppies adorns a fresh calendar’s January. Muscle, Mind, and Vision symbolically prompted into resolutions as a starting gun is about to fire. Coincidence? Jung may have a thought or two on that while burping Baby New Year. Holidays, stories, and myths are old, remember. Terribly old. Yet, here they are, like gravity’s anchor, and they will continue to both cause and play in our mental tidepools. They exist for practical reasons, after all. It’s been said stories and myths are the mind exploring the world. I like that. I really dig the follow up: stories and myths are the mind exploring itself. Creator and Creation dressed as the other for the local Chicken and Egg Convention. They are us, after all.

Let’s wrap this up, gentle reader. ‘Brief’ was my second word.

Know your Past. Act upon your Present. Be a gift to your Future. It’s right here in the manual, unless I am missing something.

Be well. Happy New Year.

Sam

The Nightmare Before Christmas on Broadway?

copyright Disney

The Nightmare Before Christmas might not sit with Rudolph on the top of Holiday Special Mountain, but based upon a 92% favorable rating on Rotten Tomatoes and its ever present presence on Hot Topic shelves it is not far behind.



Tim Burton penned the original poem that grew into the 1993 Bass-Rankin inspired stop-motion classic, with fellow artisan Henry Selick as director. Burton has said the seed of the tale came from watching how marketing for Halloween and Christmas has increasingly collided with each other despite their two month separation. With striking visuals, a solid script well voice acted, awesome music and...what am I doing?! This is a movie whose title gets 15.9 million hits on Google. It has been made into video games. It has been translated into at least a dozen languages. Disney transforms its Haunted Mansion attractions into Halloween Town every year! Is there anyone reading this post who DOESN'T know of this film?

Okay, if you haven't then watch the original trailer and accompanying song to decide if this tale of 'being true to yourself' might worth your time. Both clips copyright Disney and so on and so forth.

For those who are familiar with the movie, have you ever thought about a live action version? I know that might sound like a stretch because I know it never crossed my mind.

Good for you, Han. Disney owns you too, ya nerf herder.

But! If The Evil Dead, Spider Man, Monty Python (Spamalot), Heathers, Lestat, The Adams Family, and Carrie can make the awkward, sometimes painful leap to the stage than why not a work already filled with spectacle and music? Why not, indeed. And it might look something like this....

Granted this is a concept piece, but I think you can see it has legs. Matthew Patrick Davis stars as Jack Skellingon with Nicole Hawkyard* as the all too briefly seen Sally. The video comes from Matthew's YouTube channel which states he and Nicole developed the production as fans to the original. Not everyone I've shown this too liked it, but most did. Those who didn't largely stated there was no need to present the source material differently. I get it that. I do. It wasn't the performance, it was that it was being performed differently. Fair enough. I have my own favorites I never want touched, as you probably do. On the other hand I say, "Well Done!" The creators took source material they liked and tried to manifest it well. Jack doesn't look like the "I like turtles" meme kid. I respect that.

Good for you, Cap. Disney owns... oh, you get the idea.

Back to the point: Watch the video with an open mind and try to appreciate the work and its spirit.  Can't ask anything more of you than that, gentle reader.

Be seeing you.

Sam



*Matthew and Nicole have IMDB pages highlighting some of their work if you want to see what else they've done.

Rest Stop - Horror flash fiction

I freely admit my vision was rounded by fatigue and my thinking muddled with the distance I had traveled that night, but there are things under heaven and earth whose form and being can cut to the soul of a man despite, or perhaps because of, his clouded perceptions. I steered my vehicle into the rest stop seeking respite from the road and to flex my aching limbs when my dimmed senses told me mine was the only car present. A not-so-uncommon occurrence, as any practiced traveler of rural New York byways will confess, but for some reason there was an odd discomfort at this discovery. I brought my vehicle to a stop and proceeded to exit. No sooner had I opened my door when the uneasiness suddenly increased. (With hindsight, I now place the strange discomfort in the realm of an ancient danger sense; a forgotten attribute from a time when man was vulnerable to threats beyond those of tooth and claw.) I wish I could blame my not fleeing on a tired mind, but honesty compels me to confess my pride would not allow me to act like a frightened child in a dark hallway. And so, I stepped out. The lights struck me first. They seemed to be casting only half their potential, but the shadows around me were full and sharp. Even the size of the restrooms seemed diminished somehow. It was as if the light was passing through something foreign it was unaccustomed to.

This is stupid, I chided myself. Stop it!

However, when the sound of the passing traffic fell upon my ears for the first time after taking several steps I felt real fear. The noise should have seemed only a few dozen yards away. Instead is sounded miles in the distance. I was instantly seized with a horrid sense of isolation. Not merely of being alone, but of being beyond reach. 

Run! Flee! Flew through my mind as impulses without words. I stepped back toward my vehicle when motion caught my eye. I looked around never halting my retreat, frantic to find the unseen source, but saw nothing. Only when I felt the cool comfort of ordinary metal behind me did I turn. And thus, nearly died. For when I turned I met the gaze of a creature perched upon the roof of my car! Its dark thick-ridged body moved with small ripples from under what I think was skin. The worst of it was not the three legs it squatted upon, nor even the two-clawed pseudopodia that darted and swayed toward my face. 

It was its eyes.

They shone with a dull bluish glow. They were almost square and set far apart as the singular feature of its broad, rounded head. They were fixed. They were intelligent. They saw me. 

I screamed a guttural terror so great it felt my head would not contain it. The creature watched unmoved for an eternal instant before suddenly flowing up into the air without any visible means. As my eyes followed the apparition upwards a second sight sent me reeling. Indeed, it was this subsequent image that filled me as I sped away forever from that cursed spot, for when my thoughts are not staring into those glowing eyes they are fixed upon a night sky with two moons.