Rediscovering Childhood Joy… part 2 “The Dark Crystal”

Tags

childhood, doing the impossible, Jim Henson, magic, memories, movie, never giving up, other worlds, self-discovery, The Dark Crystal

“Another world. Another time, in an age of wonder…”

These fabulous words open this movie, one I know by heart, one that left its images, ideas, and feelings etched lovingly on my soul.

The Dark Crystal… Jim Henson and his amazing crew, 1982.

Jen, a Gelfling, the last of his kind, leaves his home on a great journey to heal the crystal, to save his world.

Once again Henson genius gives us marvelous characters and creatures wrapped in a wondrous world. And we all know how much I LOVE other worlds. The creativity. The magic.

Scared and unsure, Jen embarks on his quest without a clue as to what to do. Yet finds friends along the way.

Aughra gives him the crystal shard, what he needs to complete his mission and explains of the Great Conjuction, the meeting of the three suns when the world will end… or begin. For 1000 years ago the crystal cracked, spiraling the world into darkness. The Skeksis appeared, taking over the Castle of the Crystal, using the power for their own selfish purposes.

Kira… WAIT, Jen isn’t the last of his kind!… and her fuzzy pet Fizzgig join Jen on his journey to heal the crystal before the suns meet in the sky. As Jen was raised by the kind-hearted, knowledgeable (and a bit hippie-ish) Mystics,

she grew up in the care of the fun-loving (simple-minded) Podlings.

For the race of Gelflings had been destroyed, taken by the Skeksis, their essence drained, granting immortality to the evil race.

Now they want Jen and Kira, but not just for their essence… because of the prophecy.

I know, there’s always a prophecy. The Skeksis’ power will end by Gelfling hand.

The scheming Skeksis send their henchmen the Garthim to capture the two travelers.

Our two heroes head out on their journey, facing the danger, running from the Garthim, and learning the truth of their race.  And finally arrive at the Castle of the Crystal.

Even thought Kira is captured, Jen continues, desiring the end of the mission and finds the Chamber of the Crystal.

Kira fights her way to freedom and meets him there. Jen jumps onto the top of the crystal, but loses the shard, the missing piece of the crystal. Thinking only of saving the world and defeating the Skeksis, Kira braves the danger, retrieves the shard, and tosses it to him.

But the Skeksis will not give up so easily. They grab Kira, threatening her life. When Jen heals the crystal, they kill Kira.

The Mystics arrive, knowing the time of the Conjunction is near.

The crystal, now returned to its true form, merges the good with the evil into a new whole, returning the world to its former glory.

And breathing life back into Kira, so she and Jen can begin to rebuild the Gelfling people.

“We leave you the Crystal of Truth. Make your world in its light.”

This is the first movie I ever owned, receiving the VHS tape for my birthday when I was a kid. Of course, now I own it on DVD. The music, the visual effects, the story trapped my heart and imagination and never let go.

Jen leaves his home, the only place he’s ever known and enters the world, a big place full of the unknown. Like we all do. He finds friends and love. He finds himself, completing a task he thought too great for a simple Gelfling to accomplish. He faces the shadows, learning of the evil in the world, and does not give up.

And saves the world.

Maybe in our lives we can’t save the world, but we can save OUR world.

For when things go wrong and life seems to shatter into a million shards, we can put the pieces together.

Until next time, for part three of this wonderful trip down memory lane, sharing all the movies that touched my heart… “The Last Unicorn”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Family Magic

Tags

childhood, family, life, love, magic, road trips, thoughts, vacations

My sister and her family (hubs and two girls) are ON THEIR WAY HERE! They have quite a drive, so I’m sitting… waiting. The house is fairly clean. There is food in the fridge and fun awaits us for the next four days.

Eeeeeek!

Company is coming. Isn’t it great?  YESSSSSSS!

I grew up in Peoria, Il. and moved to Springfield the fall of my junior year of high school (yes, tramatic, but a story for another day). My dad grew up in St. Paul, Mn., my mom in Holliston, Ma.

I know everyone is wondering… how in the name of all things geography related did we end up in Illinois? My dad was sent to work in Holliston and rented an apartment down the street from my mom’s house. Cute story of boy meets girl follows. Dad got a job in Peoria and they moved.

I grew up away from all my relatives. We did not go to Aunt So-and-so’s house for Christmas Eve, head to one set of grandparents for Christmas morning then go to another relative’s house for dinner. Nope. It was us. Mom, Dad, my two sisters and me. Rarely did we ever have a holiday away from home. We had school. Dad had work. And the drive time eliminated any and all three day weekends.

We visited during the summer. One summer we’d head up to Minnesota and the next we’d make the trip out to Massachusetts then back up north then out east – you get the picture. I looked forward to those trips, seeing grandmothers (I never knew my grandfathers), aunts, uncles, and cousins I didn’t know. And it never mattered. We were family. After a few awkward moments all was well.

When I grew up, moving away seemed like the thing to do. To Indiana we went because that’s where hubs got a job. The drive to see my parents and sister in Springfield or my sister in Missouri is not quite as killer as Massachusetts. Nope. Just 5-6 hours. My kids see their relatives A LOT more than I did. It’s pretty cool how excited we all get when someone comes to visit or we go invade someone’s house.

The distance between family doesn’t matter. There’s a magic bond that ties us together. Through sickness, frustration, joy, and the other roller coaster aspects of life. We’re there for each other. Because.

I still love to go visit my relatives in Massachusetts. We have a great time. And even though I no longer have family in Minnesota, I hang onto my fond memories.

Even though my sisters and I screamed and yelled at each other growing up, we couldn’t live without each other now. I’m sure there were times when Mom wanted to run away from her three darling little girls… now she can’t wait until we’re all together.

Funny, that getting older thing.

Even crazier that family thing. Hang onto yours, whatever it looks like – adopted, step-families, really good friends that earn an honorary membership. Enjoy each other. All the flaws and fabulousness. We only get one shot at this living thing.

 

 

 

 

The Magic of Moms

Tags

childhood, kids, magic, Mothers, thoughts

Mother’s Day.

We remember those marvelous women who flashed the porch light on and off to tell us to come in, who told us that you probably need stitches except it’s just a knee, who cheered for you at ball games, but had no idea what was going on (and couldn’t catch a ball to save her life), who passed out when the doctor took care of a nasty sty by jabbing a shiny, sharp object at a screaming child’s eye, who made sure the Easter Bunny gave everyone the exact same amount of jelly beans, who made me eat a pile of peas and my little sister only had to eat seven … seven peas … seriously?

*ahem*

Sorry, got carried away … possibly that was just my experience.

Really, though, my mom is the best. She got us everywhere we needed to be, signed us up for all the things so we could see what we liked, and what we didn’t. And while still being a great mom, she has become the bestest grandma ever.

Because I’m the mom. Wait. What? Granted, this happened a while ago. My son turns 13 this summer and my daughter turns 12. Yes, that does make me feel a little old, thanks for asking. And even though I have been answering to those wonderful voices screaming “MOM!” around the house for all these years, there are moments when the idea of me being someone’s mom just freaks me out.

Don’t get me wrong. Being a mom is one of the things I think I do well. That three inch button pinned to my purse that says “#1 Mom” says it all. I sign my two kids up for all the things they want, I get them there, I volunteer at school (and they still say hi to me), we play video games, catch, and volleyball, and have moments of general silliness (who doesn’t). I tell them they’re awesome everyday. And they roll their eyes. Just as it should be.

When they move out and begin lives of their own, I hope they think fondly of me as a mom. I hope they look back and smile, remembering me cheering for their sports teams, telling them that, no, we’re not having marshmallows for lunch, encouraging them to be happy being themselves, taking them to the movies, laughing when they drop a bowl of ice cream on the floor as ceramic pieces skitter across the tile, accepting my obsession with Harry Potter and everything weird and scary, and appreciating my generous helpings of sarcasm.

I may never fully embrace the strange concept of being a mom, but I have risen to the challenge with the greatness of mediocrity. My kids are awesome. I’d like to think I had something to do with that. Really I hope I don’t warp their minds … too much.

This year to celebrate me, we went to see a movie, my daughter baked me a cake (chocolate!), and there were cards full of wonderful words. Of course, I sent my mom a card wrapped up in love because without her, I wouldn’t be me. Maybe, if I’m lucky some of the best parts of me will continue on in my kids.

Yet, those moments will return when I marvel at the whole idea of me as a mom. Cause it’s strange. I’ll do the best I can, but can’t promise not to casually say, “Mom ran away …” every once in a while.

How do you celebrate your mom, grandma, or anyone who helped take you from childhood into adulthood (or whatever it is we have become, honestly I refuse to grow up)? Anyone else struck by the weirdness of parenthood?

 

 

Easter

Tags

candy, childhood, Easter, egg dying, fun, hope, magic, religion, thoughts

 

My creative egg-dying adventure

Dying eggs.

Baskets full of candy.

Finding eggs the Easter Bunny expertly hid in our shoes.

All the girls in beautiful dresses at church.

Family.

Hope.

Any holiday that combines the religious belief of Jesus rising from the dead (in a non-zombie way) with a giant bunny bringing candy and hiding colored hard boiled eggs deserves a day to itself. Seriously.

Easter has its own magic.

Coloring eggs was always a fun day in my house, still is. Any excuse to be creative! We dropped a few, we had a few that looked slightly less impressive than others, but we didn’t care. The Easter Bunny hid them all and we scrambled around the house to find them Easter morning. One year, we did discover an egg a few months (or six) later when I put my foot in my winter boot. Oops.

Egg salad sandwiches for everyone!

Of course, the candy-filled Easter baskets were the star. Nothing like jelly beans for breakfast! My sister and I would actually count all our beans and trade colors (she didn’t like black ones, silly girl). Mom made her three girls matching dresses each Easter. We even got those white straw hats with ribbons. We were cute … and no, don’t ask for pics, I don’t have them. In our new finery, she pried us from our sugar-filled wonder to go to church.

And now all grown-up (well sorta) I do the same for my kids. Yea! Kids mean you don’t have to dye eggs alone. Cause I would.

Chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, Peeps, Cadbury Eggs (those still ROCK!) all nestled in a pile of plastic grass. Magic. Let’s not forget the real magic. Easter brings hope. Rebirth. Renewal. It reminds us to never give up, never despair, anything is possible.

Of course a few Cadbury Eggs (mini or the big ones, I do not discriminate) make the season hoppy. (Ah! I crack myself up.)

What does Easter mean to you? What traditions do you have?

Defying Gravity

Tags

aging, childhood, freedom, music, teens, wisdom, writing

With age comes wisdom.

Right?

Honestly, having reached forty-one, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no wisdom, but with age I have found …

FREEDOM! Yes, a bit of Braveheart-channeling.

Childhood was fun. Family, school, friends. All was well.

The teen years were, well, let’s face it horrible. With no idea who I was or wanted to be, I sat stuck in the in-between world of who-the-heck-had-a-clue! The world opened the curtain just a bit, giving a sneak peek of where I must venture after leaving the safety of childhood. That scared the bleepity-bleep-bleep out of me even more than the monster under my bed.

I’m not one to jump into anything. I sit back, I watch, I listen. Change frightens me.

But that’s what my twenties brought, the years of change … college, marriage, and moving to a different state. Hello, world. Years of fear as I stepped away from everything I knew. The shy, dateless wonder found a boyfriend. Whaaaat? I know! But for months I was scared to death to let him kiss me or hold my hand.

College ended, I got married, moved, and months later, hubs and I bought a house, into which I retreated. A new place, new everything had me frozen in fear.

My mid-twenties brought depression. I had nothing to give the world with still no idea who I was or what I wanted. My hubs didn’t understand, I didn’t understand. My family was far away. No friends. No job. I only existed as a wife. But what about me? My life had no purpose.

So I fled into the world. I volunteered, painting sets at the local theater and becoming a Big for Big Brothers/ Big Sisters (a story for later). I got a full time job and joined a kickboxing class. Sounds like a lot? I know. That was the point. Home was full of sadness and I didn’t want to be there. Have you ever seen the movie ‘Yes Man’? Exactly! I said yes to everything, eventually learning what I really wanted. Wisdom? No, I had no idea that I had found a solution. Only looking back do I see what I had done. A bit of magic.

At the end of my twenties I became a stay-at-home mother of two. Wow. With age and motherhood comes complete terror. Babies scare me. But I, finally, had enough faith in myself to tackle the challenge.

So I entered the land of thiry-something and the world began to make sense. The mom thing was going well, slightly insane, but healthy and happy. And I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up!

A writer. And typing all the words felt good. Creating all the characters and worlds, filling pages and pages with crazy notes, made me happy.

The work of stay-at-home mom kept me busy (still does). Through all the kids’ activities and housework, I continued to make stuff up and write it down. Then came another big step, venturing out into the land of queries, of putting your work (so basically yourself) out there. So, as usual, I waited, I watched, I read books and took classes on the subject. I wrote and wrote more. I entered story contests, earning honorable mentions and eventually placing ninth. Hmmm … maybe I could do this writing thing. I submitted to a magazine and had a short story accepted for publication, causing the joyous scream heard ’round the world. A new sense of me emerged. Of course, wrapped in the joy was the pain of rejections like a knife to the heart.

I was invited to come to a writers’ group. Hmm … a place to read and get feedback. That sounded new and fun and incredibly scary. But in the wonderland of thirty-something, I had gained a bit more magical freedom of me.

Lately, I just don’t worry about all those things 20 or 30-something me stressed about. So what if I fail? Failure only means I’m trying, which can lead to ALL THE DREAMS.

So now. I get a rejection and shrug. Not the first, not the last. You don’t like my writing? That’s okay. I love getting comments on my work, whatever you got, bring it on. Every critique helps make my writing better. I have settled in to my writers’ group, who have accepted me even after I revealed my true (completely crazy) self.

A group forms on Twitter? I jump on board. A writing contest? I’m in! And a blog … why not? 20-something me would have run and hid.

Did I get wiser? I don’t know. I’d like to think so, but really I found a love of me, the creative, slightly talented, insane world of me. Just add fairy dust, I could fly. The opinions of others can’t take my power. Not that I don’t care what people think, because I do, but not to the point where it brings me down. I’m old enough to be happy in my own skin, to be free.

Defying Gravity is my favorite song from the musical ‘Wicked’. I have been playing it loudly and often in my car. You should hear me belt out that tune! Or not. Here’s a bit, just let the words set you free.

“So if you care to find me

Look to the Western sky

As someone told me lately:

‘Everyone deserves the chance to fly’

And if I’m flying solo

At least I’m flying free

To those who’d ground me

Take a message back from me:

Tell them how I

Am defying gravity

I’m flying high

Defying gravity

And soon I’ll match them in renown

And nobody in all of Oz

No Wizard that there is or was

Is ever gonna bring me down”

From the musical ‘Wicked’ lyrics by Stephen Schwartz

Have you reached the age of freedom? Isn’t it great?

The Magic of You

Tags

childhood, differences, fiction, individuality, magic, parents, writing

At my last writers’ group meeting I read the second chapter of my current WIP, my YA fantasy ‘Doors’. The Summit City Scribes is a pretty diverse group, and there are a few people who don’t read fantasy, like at all. (Shocking, I know!) At the end of my critique (which went very well) one of them turned to me and said, “I can’t believe you have this stuff in your head. I can’t even begin to understand how you think these things up.” (or something like that)

I stared at her in shock … surprise held my tongue. These ideas have always occupied my head. Why, for heaven’s sake, doesn’t everyone think this way? I forgot, as I always do, that not everyone has the same twisted ideas tumbling through their minds that I have in mine.

Isn’t it great? *flails* It is!

We go through life thinking, wondering, talking to ourselves (or maybe that’s just me). Every once in a while,we are reminded that what is perfectly normal to us is completely odd to someone else.

Our minds are set up differently each equipped with filters, as unique as we are. Ideas weave through our heads. The goings on of the world seep into our brains. Every idea, every subject gets sifted, sorted. Our filters catch some things and let others fall away into oblivion.

History, politics, or scientific principles, pretty much the straight and narrow, the workings of real life enter my brain, stay for a second, but get filtered out eventually. However, anything fantastical, magical, scary, or insanely weird are free to wander aimlessly through my mind forever. You’ll find a real shindig inside my head. My filters tilt to the side of wonky, possibly created from the wood of a Narnian tree, or exist in another dimension.

Our filters can’t hold everything. Our heads would explode. Only the ideas that add to our joy stay wrapped up safe in our minds. The magic of individuality.

Just as it should be. *sigh*

We’re born with our filters. However, our childhood … what we experience, how we are influenced, the people in our lives help shape them.

My mother showed me the magic of this world, the real world, as in nature and people, not the inner workings of the Government. Always hanging back, taking her time, she’d notice every bug, flower, and leaf. Mom would point out the marvelous wonder of the stars, the way the sun paints the sky at sunrise and sunset. The joy of friends and laughter, the wide world of all the things to try … sports, art, music, stories, places to go, and experiences to have. Thanks to her, I marvel at the change of the seasons, never willing to live where I don’t get all four. The Hallmark Channel entertains me (especially during the Christmas season) because my mom passed on her love of happy endings. Hence the existence of my girlie filter woven of a net of happy tears.

My dad introduced me to the magic of elsewhere. Never one to change the channel, even when an impressionable child wandered into the room, he exposed me to all things not of this Earth. A story of an evil, blood-sucking demon or a poison spitting alien offered up a dose of fear to the unwary. My sisters ran. I stayed, drawn to the world of fiction … fantasy, sci-fi, and horror. My filter held onto all of it. I’d settle on the couch and ask, “What’s this?” I met Dr. Who that way. I fell in love with the Enterprise and Galactica because I stumbled upon their magnificent images on the small screen. I couldn’t look away from ‘Poltergeist’ at the drive in – the killer clown doll becoming one of my greatest fears. Dad handed me my first horror book, ‘The Talisman’ by Stephen King and Peter Straub. Wow, did that send me down a dark road of fun, ending, of course, in The Twilight Zone, where the strange and unexpected could happen to anyone.

It’s obvious I was born to love these things, but my childhood world helped solidify who I am. As a kid, I drew strange creatures and people then create new worlds for them. Scenes from stories in my head would make it to the page. Most of my drawings disturbed my mom, but my dad always gave an approving nod. A tree, ruins, or the wind can give me fuel to create a world and the characters to live there.

All grown up, well, not quite, I see why the portal, taking me to the universe where I truly belonged, never opened. I am meant to share all my weird here. It is my purpose. One I love.

So when I read my chapters set on far away worlds to my writers’ group, I will forgive those who can’t help but picture somewhere on Earth (just like I will forgive those who don’t know every fact about Harry Potter and give me blank stares when I mention Dr. Who). The fantastical and strange just fall through their filters. And that’s okay. I don’t write for everyone. Mainly I write, I create for me. But I do like to share with others whose filters happily hold onto all the weird too. And please, if you have created other worlds I haven’t traveled to, then share with me! Of course, I end up jealous that I didn’t think of it, but I’ll live.

What does your filter catch, allowing passage into the twisting paths of your mind? Be glad its not the same as everyone else. Celebrate individuality … one of the best magics out there.