I ask a lot of people. I know. So, first off, watch the trailer above (it's 2:42 long) and then either click back or stay. Good, that was easy. Those who weren't curious have gone. Now it's just the rest of us. I watched, for the second time, "You and Me and Everyone We Know" last night. I have wanted to show this movie to a friend, but I have not had the opportunity to do. There's something precious and vulnerable and special about this film. I remember watching it with my wife when it came out back in 2005. We lived in a different house then, our son was about two years old and life was different. I'm not the person I was then, but I am. It's the contradiction of life. We grow, we change, but some of who we are stays the same.
I wanted to know about Miranda July and so I went to her website and a wave of emotion swept over me. She has a way of disarming me through her works, touching at the base of that intimate part of me through her art. I was literally taken aback in visiting her home page, just welling up with emotion because she's gets it.
And what does she get? Life is so precious and so wonderful, filled with amazing and special and unique moments--each day--that we typically don't see or pay attention to or are aware of. We're little islands of loneliness, walking through a vast sea, sometimes bumping into other islands, yet we often don't share who we are or what we feel. I think I identify with July's work so much because I can connect to it and I remember a time in my life when I was so filled with creativity and power but I didn't know what to do with it.
When I was around 19 or 20, I used to take the bus to college and I would be feeling so much. I was going through my teenager, angst period, I guess. It was as though I was a big radio dish and I wasn't broadcasting, but I was receiving all the signals from those around me. I could just feel life, people and I didn't know what to do about it. It was around this time that I started writing short poems. I didn't do it often, but I would write a short piece and then leave it on a seat for the next person to find. It wasn't so much that I wanted someone to notice me (though I used to joke with myself and think I was the "mad poet of SEPTA"), but I wanted someone else to know that I felt the same loneliness and confusion and possibilities that they did.
A year or so later, at my clothing store department job, I began writing poetry and leaving the poems at the cash register for my colleagues. Unfortunately, the people who I left the poetry for never said anything. They were worried about sales, numbers, figures and their own looks. Nothing negative was said, but nothing positive either.
And then in graduate school, I started going to poetry readings and I took the chance to be like Miranda July. I would read some of my most intimate works or I'd make something up--a bit of a skit or a performance art piece. I wanted to open myself to people, to show the energy I had and to connect with people. It was scary, fun and now that time is long gone.
I (and anyone reading this) now have the power to communicate with anyone, anywhere in the world. I can post blogs, Facebook notes, tweets, videos through YouTube--we have tremendous tools.
But what I want to do today is to simply have you watch the trailer for that movie, to maybe go rent it, see its quirkiness and to then stop. I mean really stop and look around. Look at things with a different eye, from a different angle. Maybe stand on a chair, or look up or get on your belly and look at people or places in ways you never did before. There's magic happening around us all the time, but we don't notice it. It's right there for us to touch and to see. (This is why I asked you to watch the trailer and then stay or click the back arrow. I'm too aware to know that people think this sort of thing dumb. That's why I told them to leave if they wanted.) When I see Miranda July's work, I'm reminded of that. I'm reminded that not everyone is lost or closed or afraid.
If there's anything I could say to end this, I'd simply say that I'm so thankful that I have the ability to see and sense. It doesn't make me special or different. It's just what I am aware. I just want to be. A person, a worker, a husband, a son, father, colleague, friend, lover, lost and found and complicated and alive. To be. To be--me.
Twilight and A Female Protagonist's Hero's Quest
To take a step back, I first read these books in 2007. What I liked about the series is that Meyer plays around with typical vampire lore. Her vampires have special powers (mind reading, projecting pain, shielding one's thoughts, etc.) and are able to walk in sunlight. I also liked that Bella Swan is one of the main characters: She's quirky, accident prone, geeky and a bit tormented. She falls in love with the unattainable god-like Edward. He is kind, patient, a good listener, courageous, understanding, loving and basically a proto-typical Prince Charming who is perfect in nearly every way. Yet Edward's honor code and love for Bella captured my attention. He is one of the main characters of the series, but neither Jacob nor he are the central character. Bella is the core of the novel. We, as readers, go on a female hero's quest. Back in 1996 I wrote my thesis for my M.A. in English Literature on "Memory and the Quest for Self: A Jungian Reading of Alice Walker and Margaret Atwood." Here's a passage from my thesis that I believe is relevant to my discussion on the Twilight series:
"When archetypal images are applied to literature we can recognize a protagonist's behavioral patterns as being universal to the human condition. By analyzing the protagonist's behavior in relation to four specific archetypal images (persona, shadow, animus, and self), we will be able to better comprehend the feminine individuation process. Simply put, individuation is defined as 'coming to selfhood' or 'self-realization' (Storr 418). According to Jungian theory, a personality on the road toward individuation consists of four parts. Atkinson defines Jung's theory and explains that:
a personality striving for full individuation or
integration has four aspects . . . (1) the ego (or
persona), that person (or role) we consider ourselves
to be in normal waking consciousness; (2) the shadow,
that figure of the same sex as the ego who embodies
negative and positive traits which might have been
conscious but which have now been repressed; (3)
. . . animus, the man within the woman, representing
the male consciousness with which the woman must
reconcile herself; and finally, (4) the Self, that
perfect wholeness which the individual can become
when [she] has reconciled [herself] . . . with her
shadow and animus and become [her] own potentiality
for being. (Atkinson 85)"
For me, the Twilight series represents Bella's journey on the process of selfhood and individuation. Awkward, quirky and unsure of herself, Bella's struggles lead her to the final climatic battle with the Volturi in which she has not only become a wife and mother, but, most importantly, she has discovered her own power and her ability to utilize it for defense and revelation. The typical male hero's journey is filled with weapons of power and destruction: A hammer, a lightsaber, a bow and arrow. Such typical masculine weapons have shaped our literature for as long as humans can write. But with Meyer's work, Bella is withdrawn and has the ability to shield herself from outside influences. Protected and blocked out from society, Bella struggles to overcome her inner demons and fears, realizing in the end that her shield can be used as a defensive tool to protect those she loves. But in a telling moment at the close of "Breaking Dawn," Bella lifts her shield up to allow Edward to be intimately close to her. Throughout the series, she has been an impenetrable shield to his mind reading ability, but upon discovering her true power and confidence, Bella opens her inner core to Edward.
Bella's journey through ego, shadow, animus and self plays itself out naturally through the course of the four books. No, Bella is not a classical hero in which she realizes her potential from the start and strives to embrace her destiny. Rather, she stumbles, falls and chases after her animus--split between the wolfman Jacob and the bloodsucking Edward. Her journey of obtaining everlasting love with her soulmate, Edward, is tattered and broken through her using Jacob to help fill a void within her psyche. Abandoned by Edward in "New Moon," Bella's struggle for self-actualization is hampered by her inability to reconcile her feelings of grief after Edward's departure. Her journey is slow, crooked and unusual for a typical male hero's quest. It is only through death, marriage and birth of her daughter that Bella is reborn as a vampire and fully cognizant of her powers. Still relatively young and inexperienced, the Twilight series ends on a high note. Hopefully, we will see Bella's growth in future books.
However, I am concerned about Twilight's impact on today's youth. Young girls are flocking to see the film, screaming their undying love to Jacob and Edward. But here is what bothers me: Edward is a hero who is near perfect. I wonder if the young girls of today, who are fans of the series, can separate themselves form their wanting of Edward to the reality of life. In the books and movies, Edward loves Bella without question. His only flaw is that his love blinds him to abandon Bella in her hour of need. No man in reality is like Edward. The darker sides of our Prince of the Night are glossed over: He likes to drink blood and is also rough at sex. Will today's tweens see beyond Edward's and Jacob's good looks to Bella's journey toward individuation? Will they see Bella's journey as a hero's quest? Or are they blinded by beauty and unable to put into perspective Bella's growth?
No matter what naysayers might voice about the Twilight series, the books' influence on women/girls today is overwhelming. My thought is this: Stop mocking the series, read it and then decide. Meyer portrays a young female hero from her earliest days to her most powerful in standing her ground during the Volturi faceoff in "Breaking Dawn." In the end, to each his own, but there's more beneath the surface of the Twilight series--if you're willing to look. Give the series a read, but don't mock it if you've not read it. There is much to like in these books. And in just scratching the surface, the complexity of a Jungian interpretation is well worth pursuing. So, sit back, relax, enjoy the books. Constructive criticism to this post is encouraged, but flaming behavior is not.
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