The Lovely Bones: Samadhi vs. the Time of the Clock

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Clock, n.
         an instrument for measuring and recording time, especially by mechanical
         means: not designed to be worn or carried about
Clock, v.
         to strike sharply or heavily

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It’s one of the greatest inventions of mankind. At first, it was oversized and ugly; only the wealthy could afford them. Since then, everyone came to own one, made into ornaments that speak of the qualities desired by those that wear them. What began as an exclusive possession came to be democratized, and collective life no longer had to be ruled by the the peal of bells or the squeal of sirens that marked the passage of time. Instead, a new Era emerged: the clock wormed itself into the bedroom and latched onto the bodies of millions across the face of the earth.

Sociologists would describe this as part of a larger transformation: the emergence of mass society where life came to be defined by the rhythm of the machine. Even night was colonized: time chopped into shifts to maximize profit in pursuit of the American Dream. So important was this that a universal standard was established at the "center" of the world (Greenwich Mean Time), and with this shift space was colonized as well: distant places and climes calibrated to a single machine.

Perhaps this is why dictionaries warn of the danger of the clock, noting that it should not be worn or carried. Perhaps it’s also why, as a verb, the word has come to be used to describe an assault. It’s almost as if somewhere (in the shadows, perhaps?) there’s evidence that the clock’s triumph brought a certain danger: that hidden in the folds of its precision, unseen demons lay in wait.

The Secret: Breaking the Silence

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SACRED (noun)
from pp. of obsolete verb sacren "to make holy," from Latin sacer "sacred, dedicated, holy, accursed," from Old Latin saceres which some connect to the base *saq- "bind, restrict, enclose, protect."

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It’s almost as if they forgot their wedding vows, the limit of any marriage: "until death do you part." For even after she died, she found a way to return by taking over the life and body of her daughter.
A child displaced.

For this, she cannot be blamed. Very few have been taught about death, let alone how to embrace it. Even fewer recognize the fact of their passing, caught instead in a fog of unknowing: frantic about what has come of them, left grasping for certainties where none exist, desperately hoping to replace the ground that’s suddenly been lost.

After a while, she’ll recognize the haze that surrounds her as part of the Bardo state: it’s what happens to the mind when life comes to an end. Failure to recognize it is the greatest danger, although this happens to the best of us. Surrounded by confusing visions that make it virtually impossible to give coherence to what’s come to pass.

Taking over the life and body of her daughter was a split-second decision, an impulse that came on the heels of death. It’s this choice that created a new alliance, prolonging a marriage already at its end: both unwilling to accept the tragedy of her dying, both unable to let her go. From this comes a certain silence, a pact between a grieving husband and the spirit of his wife who now appears as his daughter.

Somehow, the stalemate needs to be broken so as to allowing the flow of life to begin again. It’ll require undoing the pact they share, despite the fear of what such a deed might bring. Until then, both are caught in the In-Between: bound by an untold secret that has yet to be heard.

But which secret is the most binding?  Which one hasn’t been told?

Chaotic Ana: Liberation

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While there are many threads to her story, at its center is a story of love and the man around which her life came to revolve. All she had wanted was to follow him.

They had just met moments earlier, when she was working with her hands and with colors. And what she felt in him struck deep, as if she were an instrument and he was her playing. Soon she would learn that he rarely rested, haunted by dreams that kept him awake, as if there were too many doors he couldn’t keep shut. She, on the other hand, had no such trouble. If anything, besides her daydreams, she rarely dreamt at all.

Despite this difference, they were on the brink of something momentous, as if each realized they’d never truly loved before. As they began their journey, she wondered whether he’d be the one to help open the doors of her consciousness. If there were anyone she’d want to help with that task, it would be no one else but him.

What soon followed was nothing short of heaven: the intimacy of skin and the pleasure of their exertion. Maybe it was then that she gave her heart to him.

But she also witnessed the torment of which he spoke; the things that kept him up at night. Contrary to her intuitions, he told her he was living in the light. The only problem was the end. There was nothing there: an emptiness so complete, that it left him swallowed by darkness and gasping for breath, as his very life would come to an end.

She tried to console him. They had met each other, after all. Perhaps the "nothing" wasn’t as empty as he thought. Something had to be there. He should be patient. The answer would come. He would see.

Sucker Punch: Blocked Passage

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Thanks to the deleted scene excised from the theatrical release of this film, we’re able to see the dilemma around which Sweet Pea’s story revolves: an emotion frozen in the depths of hell, a passage that’s been blocked. She’s none other than Shakti who’s been prevented from reaching Her goal. That’s the reason for Her torment, the yearning for what’s been kept beyond Her reach.

According to those who’ve been trained in Her nature, there are many ways She can be released from Her earthly home; there are also several passages through which She can travel, although not all of them lead to Her goal. Quite cruelly, some are only cul-de-sacs that tease Her with a taste of what She’s been missing, even while barring access from the place She’s meant to Be.

From the resting place in which She laid dormant, She may have been aroused or disturbed, even prematurely, perhaps. Should this happen in the absence of an experienced teacher committed to Her success, She’s left disoriented since She’s not been guided to the passage leading to where She needs to go. When abandoned in this way, She’ll probably be faced with a dead-end street, one that feels worse than the fires of Hell.

In the language of an ancient tradition, this is the experience of non-culmination, a "deflected rising," since Her ascent has by-passed the usual routes that lead to Her success. Among the "side" passageways that produces this kind of torment is the Sarasvati Nadi which leads directly to the crown of the head. According to those trained in these matters, Shakti may develop remarkable talents when She enters this route, due to the premature stimulation of the brain, but because She’s unable to unite with Her Being, She’s also doomed to an endless repeating, bouncing back and forth like a yo-yo between Her base below and the far reaches of Heaven.

It’s said that a similar deflection occurs when Shakti’s released into the Vajra Nadi, something that may result from an accident rather than meditation or practice. Unlike Her movement through Sarasvati, however, this passage stops at the brow. Certain talents may also develop, but as with any blocked movement, the ultimate goal remains beyond Her reach.

There’s also the Lakshmi Nadi, said to be associated with transitions of birth and death. Shakti may find Herself here due to massive trauma; according to some, this nadi may even explain the mystery of bodies combusting spontaneously, leaving nothing but a pile of ash. In general, those deflected into this passage are caught in the grip of a grief that refuses to end.

(It’s almost as if these routes recount the ways Shakti is dislodged from Her resting place by trauma and assaults on Her home, as if escape to another world – to the head – provided the only means for Her survival.)

Jennifer’s Body: Mahavidya

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The Secret: (If I Were Who??)

 

First comes love, then comes marriage;
then comes a baby in a golden carriage.
That’s not it! That’s not all!
The baby’s drinking alcohol.

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Why would a supernatural love story choose a poster for itself like this? After all, the film’s about a family that loves each other: a husband, his adoring wife, and their daughter. If there’s any tension, it concerns mother and daughter, not the dad. So why an image that suggests something more sinister, as if it was secretly a tale of horror?

This is not an idle question; nor does it use a foreign poster to create insinuations. Even though the film uses American actors, it was made under the auspices of EuropaCorp and produced by Luc Besson, among others. It’s as if, in their eyes, the "secret" involved a struggle to the death.

The questions for an American working backward (from English to French) are compounded when we notice that the film’s title is different too - "If I Were You" (Si j’étais toi) – although it’s not quite clear who’s speaking to whom. Is it the husband (and father) who has plans for his daughter that are different from what she’d choose for herself? Or is it the daughter speaking of her dissatisfaction about how her mother’s leading her own life? Or perhaps the voice belongs to another?

The American poster, tame in comparison, hints at something else, suggesting that the daughter’s forced to live under a shroud of silence. So, while the French version might use the imagery of horror, the secret here gains its weight from an imperative imposed upon a child.

Which might be why the English tagline also differs: "Sometimes a gift can be a curse." But what gift is being talked about here, and what’s the curse? Might it have something to do with the daughter and the mother, and the names by which they’re known? Or might it have something to do with the playground taunt that warns about the course of love?

Might that be why the French poster speaks of two destinies pitted against each other, as if the daughter was fighting for the right to be born ? If this were true, then her mother would be her only ally, especially since her father would be asked to relinquish his wife.

Si J’etais Toi (deux destins, une seule vie)
If I Were You (two destinies, one life)

Hereafter: Escaping the Debtor’s Prison

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The old, unhappy feeling that had once pervaded my life
came back like an unwelcome visitor, and deeper than ever.
It addressed me like a strain of sorrowful music,
a hopeless consciousness of all that I had lost, all that I had ever loved.
And all that remained was a ruined blank and waste lying all around me,
unbroken to the dark horizon.

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Obviously, if the feelings are familiar, they’re not new. Something else happened, something that had fixed hopelessness upon his soul. Yet, if he allowed himself the luxury of detachment, relinquishing the apparent cause of his misery, he’d find himself face-to-face with the most curious of puzzles: how feelings can pierce the barriers of time and space, injecting themselves into lives different from those in whom they first emerged. A transference between generations.

If he’s anything like the rest of us, he’d be hard-pressed to find their origin: after all, what could explain feelings so grim: a ruined blank and waste lying all around, unbroken to the dark horizon? And yet, they’d always been there, like a battered teddy bear: evident in the tortured prose of adolescence, perhaps, or the music to which he’d been drawn, plaintive tunes pointing to the unspoken and the dead.

The words of Dickens do the same: giving voice to a feeling written upon the soul and lodged in the bones. Inscribed for eternity. Finding comfort in the language of another, precisely because it echoes the ancient and familiar. Perhaps it’s even due to something as gruesome as a child sacrifice, like the accident of his youth: for it’s precisely from the black abyss that "gifts" such as his are born.

Chaotic Ana

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The Secret: Demeter’s Labor

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In many ways, they’re the picture-perfect family. Husband and wife love each other deeply and both adore their daughter. And yet, there’s a tension that haunts their home: the daughter wishes she were somewhere else. In private, her parents joke about the terror of adolescents, but this only serves to confirm what they already know. A fracture between mother and daughter that seems beyond repair, no matter how hard either of them may try to fix what’s been broken.

The child hates the place to which they’ve moved, a nowhere-land filled with losers. She’s bright in a place where it’s frowned upon to use one’s brain, much less show any signs of aspiration or achievement. And what better target than her mother to vent her frustration, particularly since she seems to have no purpose in life other than to dote on her husband? The perfect housewife who’s given up everything just to be with the man she loves.

It was precisely this endless argument that erupted during a mother-daughter trip to somewhere, as if the tension could be contained no longer. Hanna is the mother ("God has favored me with a child") and despite her daughter’s silent resentment, still loves her dearly. On the other hand, her daughter, Samantha ("God has heard" + "flower") is just tired of her mother’s attention, as if she doesn’t have a life of her own. Or wouldn’t know what to do with one, if she had.

Can we talk?
– Why do you constantly have to talk about everything?
I just want to know what’s going on with you. Why you’re acting this way.
I want things to be better between us.
– Yeah, well, it’s never going to happen. So just get over it.
Why am I the bad guy, huh? You don’t treat your father like this.
– Because he’s not on my back all the time. He treats me like an adult.
No, he spoils you and you’re not an adult.
– Well, I’m not a baby either, Mom. I can take care of myself, okay?
Don’t be mad at me just because I care about you. I love you.
– Yeah, well maybe a little bit too much.

It would seem that the only thing holding them together is husband and father, but even this isn’t enough. For immediately, just as the two of them seem to have reached a stalemate, a truck appears out of nowhere – barreling down the highway in the opposite direction – and their lives are forever changed. Their family forever transformed by an accident that comes on the heels of an argument between wife and daughter.

The Lovely Bones: Changing Lanes

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It’s what invariably happens when we find the courage to follow the "lights" that have continuously beckoned, even when we didn’t quite understand what they were or what their purpose might be. Forever blinking on the horizon of consciousness, like flashes of insight that would come and then disappear, their disappearance as much our own doing as anything else, since the message they brought was not one we wished to hear.

The headlights rushing down the hall of her murder’s home threaten to annihilate Susie, as this is the threat that the Light has always held. Destroying all one’s preconceptions about life, even about oneself. The path that might have been …
all premised on keeping the truth buried, as if pretending nothing had happened might make the past disappear.