Thread of Gold
At the end of last night's glorious opening night screening of the Return of the King, I turned to my friend Jesse with whom I had shared the evening, and asked her, simply, if there was any other story, written by any other author, that we would ever want to see come to screen as much as we had wanted Tolkien's to be made. She thought about it for a beat, and couldn't come up with anything. For me, the answer is much simpler: no.
There is a continum among those who enjoy Tokien's works: from the vast majority who have read them and liked them as they would any other book, to the fewer who were touched deeply by the story and who hold selected passages in their minds, to the very few for whom the story takes a life of its own in their own hearts. And on that far, far horizon of the bell curve, clear almost to Tol-Eressëa in sight of Valinor, you'll find me. :-)
My oldest and best friend of nearly thirteen years now, hoya99, whose tale I have told before, has stoically endured almost a solid week of Tolkien related entries from me and our mutual friends before gently asking why on earth these movies mean as much as they do to us. And that's a fair and legitimate question. There are as many different answers as there are people: this entry is my answer, in part, my story. In more meanings of the word than one.
One would wonder how it is that a tale of fiction and a movie can so fill a man's imagination and his thoughts, to so seemingly warp his perspective compared to the more important things that happen in our lives. And it's true I've had the humble honor of being able to play a tiny role in many things of greater import: decisive moments in board rooms or assembly floors as an activist, or life's beginning and end as a medical student, or quiet, personal moments of listening whose tales I promised never to tell. But I think it's in fact there you'll find the answer, for me. Like a thread of gold woven into a tapestry that outlines the principal figures, Tolkien's tales are intimately woven into the story of my life that led me to those very places, to those very causes. For me, the answer to why the tales mean so much to me is in large part the answer to why I chose to try to become a physican, a scientist, an activist...
Why is an idea I've touched on in places, hinted at, made reference to, and even had a longish entry long on the back burner about, which finally I bring to life here. And so, in the first of two entries today, I do my best to try to fully flesh out what Tolkien means to me.
The tales of King Arthur are perhaps a better reflection of the world we truly live in. In the end, integrity fails at the test; love is twisted into a poison; brother fights brother and friend slays friend. The glory and promise of Camelot ends in ruins, vultures, and regrets; courage and valor in the end come to nothing. These are the lessons of King Arthur.
Sigfried dies, stabbed in the back; William Wallace is drawn and quartered; Yoshitsune's reward for a lifetime of faithful and courageous service is betrayal out of jealousy by the very lord Yoshitsune served. Narnia falls, in the end, to the Calmoren, destroyed by an ambitious schemer and a donkey in a lion suit. Most of the most famous epic stories told in East and West come to the same bitter ends. But as I discovered reading the dogeared, mildewed hardcover copies found in the metal bookshelf in the back of the classroom one spring in elementary school long ago, Tolkien had a slightly different tale to tell...
There were great battles in The Lord of the Rings, too; stirring speeches, acts of great magic, creatures of horror and wonder, quests and journeys, adventure and suspense. Unlike much of the fantasy fiction that followed, Tolkien's work had a definitive beginning and end, and left almost as much to the imagination as was explicitly described, in the style of the epics that came before. But unlike those epics, in Tolkien's work men do not fail their test, but meet it. Courage prevails. Loyalty is rewarded and treachery punished. And in the end the world is saved not so much by the Kings or the wizards, but by the simple refusal of two ordinary fellows to either give up on their mission or on each other.
Even as a young boy I knew enough of human history and current events to know that wasn't a very accurate reflection of the way the world worked --but it was the way the world *could* work. The way we could dare to make our world work, if we had enough courage and compassion and integrity. For all Lancelot's strength and prowess, his weakness of character destroys his world and brings to naught all that so many have labored for. For all the ordinariness of Frodo and Sam's, their loyalty saves theirs, makes worth it the sacrifice of those who fell at Helm's Deep and the Pelannor. In the midst of a titanic clash against darkness irredeemable, it is the most ordinary of folks who make the difference. And that was a deeply inspirational idea to me then --and now.
Other fantasy works told the same tale of triumph, but Tolkien went far deeper and richer with far fewer words. Other compact epics had as great scope and imagination and depth, but Tolkien told a tale that ended in glory instead of sic transit gloria. That powerful combination hooked Tolkien's story in deeper in me than the vast range of others I devoured in my early book reading years. Perhaps because Tolkien left so much to the imagination, my imagination kept revisiting and rebuilding the scenes in my head. Scenes like Frodo at the ford, Gandalf's in Moria, Boromir's stand, the ride of the Rohirrim, Eowyn at the Pelannor, Samwise in the lair, so many others. Scene after scene where a stand is taken, the darkness challenged, a line drawn --
And in large part, that's precisely what The Lord of the Rings is all about: taking a stand. Fighting for what you love. Putting yourself between the fire and your fellows, to face the Balrog, the Nazgul, the eight-legged horror, the countless ranks of the armies of the Eye. To take up the impossible burden and march into Mordor. There are no mixed motives, no hidden agendas, no messy politics: just a darkness that destroys before and all that we love behind, and you in between, with defiance and sword. Tolkien's heroes might not always have known if they were going to prevail -- if they were going to survive. Many times, they did not. But at least they didn't have to wonder what they were fighting for, living for, dying for.
There aren't many places in the modern world where one can have the luxury of that clarity of purpose. Aren't many places where you can make that stand, knowing that what you fight for and what you sacrifice for will actually make a difference and is actually worth fighting for. Most battles are far more complicated, the lines between right and wrong far messier, the weapons and tactics and motives far more murky. Most things in this world are not as clear-cut as Gandalf holding the bridge against Durin's Bane.
Fighting cancer in children, tho, comes pretty close.
I've been working virtually my entire life torwards the chance to try to fight for my patients; and Tolkien's stories have been burning through my imagination the whole way. Almost my entire life I have imagined and reimagined the stands Tolkien's heroes took against terrible enemies supernatural even as I worked to learn how to fight terrible enemies mundane. Thanks to my parents and my teachers, I had the chance to go almost anywhere I wanted for college, and do anything I wanted for my life's work. And when I finally was given that choice, the young boy whose imagination was aflame with the fires of the sword Reforged became the medical student trying to learn how to take a stand against cancer. My chosen profession, if I earn my spurs, will be to try my best to hold the line between an enemy without mercy and children without blame, where the stakes are literally life and death. I don't yet know if I'm worthy of that challenge. But the only thing a man can ask for in this life is the chance to try, and that I have.
Tolkien captured more succinctly and more deeply much of what I hope I might be than any other author; and so his story became the one I loved the most. And it probably should have been no surprise that so many of those with whom I share the closest friendship, share too a love of the same story. And no surprise that I should come to love the movie adaptations, movies that captured the grandeur and glory of the images I created and recreated in my imagination since I was a little boy, while adding glories of their own --
Tolkien's vision is a story and dream treasured by many, and in the sharing of that dream, amongst dear friends, have many other treasured moments and memories come. But that is another story, for another day...
Aragorn lived out his life blessed by the light of the love of his Lady, as did Master Samwise. Frodo did not. And there were many, Forlong and Hirluin, Grimbold and Halbarad and Theoden, King of the Mark, who never made it to the end. I do not know to what end my own story will lead. But Tolkien's story is, in a way, the story of the things I hope I might be able in some small sense to accomplish with my own life. To be a son and brother and friend as loyal as Sam. To become worthy of a love as true as that of the Evenstar. And to take a stand, to hold the line, and to never have to doubt for what my sacrifice was for. To be able to say at the end, at the last, I go to my fathers; and even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed.
This tale draws to a glorious close in Into the West.
There is a continum among those who enjoy Tokien's works: from the vast majority who have read them and liked them as they would any other book, to the fewer who were touched deeply by the story and who hold selected passages in their minds, to the very few for whom the story takes a life of its own in their own hearts. And on that far, far horizon of the bell curve, clear almost to Tol-Eressëa in sight of Valinor, you'll find me. :-)
My oldest and best friend of nearly thirteen years now, hoya99, whose tale I have told before, has stoically endured almost a solid week of Tolkien related entries from me and our mutual friends before gently asking why on earth these movies mean as much as they do to us. And that's a fair and legitimate question. There are as many different answers as there are people: this entry is my answer, in part, my story. In more meanings of the word than one.
One would wonder how it is that a tale of fiction and a movie can so fill a man's imagination and his thoughts, to so seemingly warp his perspective compared to the more important things that happen in our lives. And it's true I've had the humble honor of being able to play a tiny role in many things of greater import: decisive moments in board rooms or assembly floors as an activist, or life's beginning and end as a medical student, or quiet, personal moments of listening whose tales I promised never to tell. But I think it's in fact there you'll find the answer, for me. Like a thread of gold woven into a tapestry that outlines the principal figures, Tolkien's tales are intimately woven into the story of my life that led me to those very places, to those very causes. For me, the answer to why the tales mean so much to me is in large part the answer to why I chose to try to become a physican, a scientist, an activist...
Why is an idea I've touched on in places, hinted at, made reference to, and even had a longish entry long on the back burner about, which finally I bring to life here. And so, in the first of two entries today, I do my best to try to fully flesh out what Tolkien means to me.
The tales of King Arthur are perhaps a better reflection of the world we truly live in. In the end, integrity fails at the test; love is twisted into a poison; brother fights brother and friend slays friend. The glory and promise of Camelot ends in ruins, vultures, and regrets; courage and valor in the end come to nothing. These are the lessons of King Arthur.
Sigfried dies, stabbed in the back; William Wallace is drawn and quartered; Yoshitsune's reward for a lifetime of faithful and courageous service is betrayal out of jealousy by the very lord Yoshitsune served. Narnia falls, in the end, to the Calmoren, destroyed by an ambitious schemer and a donkey in a lion suit. Most of the most famous epic stories told in East and West come to the same bitter ends. But as I discovered reading the dogeared, mildewed hardcover copies found in the metal bookshelf in the back of the classroom one spring in elementary school long ago, Tolkien had a slightly different tale to tell...
There were great battles in The Lord of the Rings, too; stirring speeches, acts of great magic, creatures of horror and wonder, quests and journeys, adventure and suspense. Unlike much of the fantasy fiction that followed, Tolkien's work had a definitive beginning and end, and left almost as much to the imagination as was explicitly described, in the style of the epics that came before. But unlike those epics, in Tolkien's work men do not fail their test, but meet it. Courage prevails. Loyalty is rewarded and treachery punished. And in the end the world is saved not so much by the Kings or the wizards, but by the simple refusal of two ordinary fellows to either give up on their mission or on each other.
Even as a young boy I knew enough of human history and current events to know that wasn't a very accurate reflection of the way the world worked --but it was the way the world *could* work. The way we could dare to make our world work, if we had enough courage and compassion and integrity. For all Lancelot's strength and prowess, his weakness of character destroys his world and brings to naught all that so many have labored for. For all the ordinariness of Frodo and Sam's, their loyalty saves theirs, makes worth it the sacrifice of those who fell at Helm's Deep and the Pelannor. In the midst of a titanic clash against darkness irredeemable, it is the most ordinary of folks who make the difference. And that was a deeply inspirational idea to me then --and now.
Other fantasy works told the same tale of triumph, but Tolkien went far deeper and richer with far fewer words. Other compact epics had as great scope and imagination and depth, but Tolkien told a tale that ended in glory instead of sic transit gloria. That powerful combination hooked Tolkien's story in deeper in me than the vast range of others I devoured in my early book reading years. Perhaps because Tolkien left so much to the imagination, my imagination kept revisiting and rebuilding the scenes in my head. Scenes like Frodo at the ford, Gandalf's in Moria, Boromir's stand, the ride of the Rohirrim, Eowyn at the Pelannor, Samwise in the lair, so many others. Scene after scene where a stand is taken, the darkness challenged, a line drawn --
- You cannot pass!
You stand between me and my Lord and kin.
By Elbereth and Luthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!
And in large part, that's precisely what The Lord of the Rings is all about: taking a stand. Fighting for what you love. Putting yourself between the fire and your fellows, to face the Balrog, the Nazgul, the eight-legged horror, the countless ranks of the armies of the Eye. To take up the impossible burden and march into Mordor. There are no mixed motives, no hidden agendas, no messy politics: just a darkness that destroys before and all that we love behind, and you in between, with defiance and sword. Tolkien's heroes might not always have known if they were going to prevail -- if they were going to survive. Many times, they did not. But at least they didn't have to wonder what they were fighting for, living for, dying for.
There aren't many places in the modern world where one can have the luxury of that clarity of purpose. Aren't many places where you can make that stand, knowing that what you fight for and what you sacrifice for will actually make a difference and is actually worth fighting for. Most battles are far more complicated, the lines between right and wrong far messier, the weapons and tactics and motives far more murky. Most things in this world are not as clear-cut as Gandalf holding the bridge against Durin's Bane.
Fighting cancer in children, tho, comes pretty close.
I've been working virtually my entire life torwards the chance to try to fight for my patients; and Tolkien's stories have been burning through my imagination the whole way. Almost my entire life I have imagined and reimagined the stands Tolkien's heroes took against terrible enemies supernatural even as I worked to learn how to fight terrible enemies mundane. Thanks to my parents and my teachers, I had the chance to go almost anywhere I wanted for college, and do anything I wanted for my life's work. And when I finally was given that choice, the young boy whose imagination was aflame with the fires of the sword Reforged became the medical student trying to learn how to take a stand against cancer. My chosen profession, if I earn my spurs, will be to try my best to hold the line between an enemy without mercy and children without blame, where the stakes are literally life and death. I don't yet know if I'm worthy of that challenge. But the only thing a man can ask for in this life is the chance to try, and that I have.
Tolkien captured more succinctly and more deeply much of what I hope I might be than any other author; and so his story became the one I loved the most. And it probably should have been no surprise that so many of those with whom I share the closest friendship, share too a love of the same story. And no surprise that I should come to love the movie adaptations, movies that captured the grandeur and glory of the images I created and recreated in my imagination since I was a little boy, while adding glories of their own --
I do not know what strength is in my blood; but I swear to you: I will not let the white city fall; nor our people fail.
So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?
Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them!
A day may come, when the courage of men fails - when we forsake our friends - and break all bonds of fellowship - but it is not this day!
Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf.
What about side by side with a friend?
Aye. I could do that.
I can't carry it for you - but I -can- -carry- *you!*
I'm glad to be with you... Here at the end of all things.
Tolkien's vision is a story and dream treasured by many, and in the sharing of that dream, amongst dear friends, have many other treasured moments and memories come. But that is another story, for another day...
Aragorn lived out his life blessed by the light of the love of his Lady, as did Master Samwise. Frodo did not. And there were many, Forlong and Hirluin, Grimbold and Halbarad and Theoden, King of the Mark, who never made it to the end. I do not know to what end my own story will lead. But Tolkien's story is, in a way, the story of the things I hope I might be able in some small sense to accomplish with my own life. To be a son and brother and friend as loyal as Sam. To become worthy of a love as true as that of the Evenstar. And to take a stand, to hold the line, and to never have to doubt for what my sacrifice was for. To be able to say at the end, at the last, I go to my fathers; and even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed.
This tale draws to a glorious close in Into the West.