Of Tolkien and Things
UPDATE: I really should have mentioned that the following is part of a blogburst, a simultaneous, cross-linked posting of many blogs on a single theme. This blogburst concerns J.R.R. Tolkien. For a guide to other Tolkien articles, go to The Tolkien BlogBurst Index at Yourish.com.
"So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." - Gandalf the Grey in "The Fellowship of the Ring"
When I first saw the movie, "The Fellowship of the Ring", it was three months after 9/11. Three months after nearly 100 people I knew were killed and my office destroyed. Three months after my life was irrevocably altered and I no longer felt safe.
Perhaps that is why the movie got to me on such a visceral level. From the moment Galadriel told the story of the rings of power, I felt tears well up. I rarely cry, although I do so more now then I did before. Yet throughout the film, tears were welling up in my eyes. The power of the story overwhelmed me.
Looking back, I realize I was still in shock at the time. The story reached beyond the emotionally protective walls I had built to my core. It represented to me how I was feeling, in some ways transforming itself within my psyche to the life I now led. Sauron became Osama bin Laden - omnipresent in my mind, yet shadowy and surreal, invested with a tremendous power for evil. The One Ring was the twin demons, Melancholy and Fear, that engulfed me, twisting me into someone different. I longed to be like Frodo - carrying my burden with acceptance and fortitude - but it was a struggle to simply get through the day.
Yet the story was incomplete, because nowhere in it was a wise and protective Gandalf, a calming and healing Elrond, an insightful and powerful Galadriel. Ultimately I played those roles myself, with the help of family, friends, and a professional. At that time, though, it seemed as though there was no one to take them on and help me fight the demons.
"How can men fight against such reckless hatred?" - Theoden, King of Rohan in "The Two Towers"
When I went to see "The Two Towers", it was 15 months after that Day. I sat in the theater waiting for the film to start, wondering how I would react to this one. Surely it would not be as powerful, because I was more removed in time from the raw emotions, from the depths of Melancholy and Fear. It was, yet it was not.
As the music started, the tears welled up again. I felt myself once more overwhelmed by the larger-than-lifeness of the story. Gandalf falling deep into Shadow. The sense of impending doom, as the massive Uruk-Hai troops stormed Helms' Deep. As with all mythology, the fight between good and evil resonates inside us. In times of peace, it reminds us of our own internal battle with those forces. In times of peril, it focuses our thoughts on the external world, on the people and things that threaten us.
I still reacted to this film in that latter manner, amazed at how the tale being played out on the screen so well represented my innermost thoughts and fears living in a post-9/11 world. Sauron was still Osama bin Laden. The Uruk-Hai were those who wish to destroy and kill us, nameless, faceless, not caring for our lives, in numbers great enough to instill fear of loss and wonder at how anyone can hate so much.
But this time I did not long to be Frodo. Frodo has taken a different journey; the Ring he carries twisting him, at times nearly overpowering him. He desperately wants to believe that he can return, to be the hobbit he was before embarking on his quest. My Ring has grown lighter, less burdensome. The song has ended, but the melody lingers on. Its tendrils wrap around my soul, but without the grief that used to accompany them. They are comforting now, because they carry the memories without the terrible, raw anguish. Although at times I do yearn to be the person I was before, I know and have accepted that will never be.