THE LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT,ETC

The writing below is the extent our secular mind can come to in making sense in a world that G-d has hid his face from and it would really impress upon our souls the conclusions that Nick has come to even if in peremptory fashion.a rekindled romantic light is an admission not to give in to a darkness "which comprehends not" the exile of our wanderings. It is the light hidden by the divine, a light too blazing for us to be blinded by, without a doubt.We live in an ellipsis of despair of our own subliminal devising,and hence of our own making, Nick Meador. http://www.supraterranean.com/2010/05/24/the-light-that-never-goes-out/# http://www.nickmeador.org/essays/ In short, this film made me miss feeling completely and utterly alive. I think the sensation is usually described as the loss of innocence, but somehow that doesn’t fit here. I don’t think innocence is necessarily lacking in the many adults (at least, other than by extrapolation to society as a whole) who have retreated from the outer world, safeguarded by their beliefs, their televisions, and the locks on their door. In the zombie-fied glare that dominates most of our so-called activity, I don’t see a gap of innocence; I see the slow victory of death, mashed together with untended guilt and regret. The other popular explanation most would offer is that this is what it means to “grow up.” I’m not convinced by that either, mostly because of the persisting juvenile state in which the human race has currently settled. * * * Certain visionary writers and spiritual leaders have suggested that it’s possible to reinvigorate that state of heightened awareness and persist in an appreciation for the privilege of life. (500) Days forced me, through pure emotional assault, to consider that prospect in my own life. Yes, the hardships are ridiculous, the world does seem to be getting worse instead of steadily progressing, and some days I’m glad I don’t have a loaded gun in my home. But there’s still love, there’s still music, babies still laugh, daffodils still sprout early each spring, and Orion still dons his diamond-studded belt each clear winter night. Romanticism doesn’t work as an ideology, a paradigm to understand all the workings of our civilization. Furthermore, our culture has lost most of its faith in the romantic pursuit, cordoning it off to mass-marketed movies, sitcoms and paperback books. Perhaps this is just my way of not ruling out something that felt so true earlier in my life. Though I can’t deny that it’s been present all along, albeit in a subdued, damaged form. And in a way all the strife, loathing and bloodshed seem to happen in response to our romantic ideals not manifesting themselves automatically. Maybe the romantic spirit is still a worthwhile aspect of Western culture (or of human nature) – maybe we’ve just lost track of it. It could be that the last decade was a painful but necessary transitioning period, a pessimistic winter extending from the nuclear winter that was never consummated by the Cold War. It seems every day there are signs of a greater awareness of humanity, fostered largely by the Internet and, to a lesser extent, by psychoactive drugs. People seem to have a sturdier conviction that we are here for good and there will be no exit, nor any sanctuary. Now our only task it to build the garden that’s been stuck in our collective dreams, the one that has always seemed to be our lost place of origin, not our imminent destination. That nagging sense of guilt we’ve felt for millennia – that is surmountable. Just as Tom longs to regain his love with Summer, we lament the loss of the summers of our youth, the season wholly representative of innocence. But like Tom did, we’ll inevitably see that the innocence was never gone, that its loss was an illusion – a temporary injury, perhaps one that encourages adaptivity in us. That insight is how Tom opens his heart to a woman named Autumn – a simple enough plot device, but one that’s all too relevant. After all, to see the purity of human life once summer has passed it to recognize that the purity is an inextricable part of what it means to be alive. * * * I’m still not convinced that any of this is preordained. I think of it more in terms of a natural progression. It’s the way of our evolution. If not, we would have blown each other up by now. What I’m suggesting is the possibility that Summer was right, that the outcome of their love was meant to be. Even the most secular of scientists could admit that natural processes happen in the world with total disregard as to our foresight or comprehension. What’s required is a willingness to open oneself up, time and time again, in the face of disaster and adversity. Then maybe our notion of the romantic will be transformed from a joke to an actual possibility, with all the layers of false beliefs stripped away to expose the core aspect of humanity that lies therein. That thought is best represented in the film by a classic Smiths’ song – the one playing on Tom’s headphones when the main characters first connect. Since it was written in 1986, the song has revived an endless number of shriveled hearts, thanks largely to Morrissey’s calming British croon and his repeated declaration: “There is a light that never goes out.” So here’s hoping it never does. Similar Posts: Film Review: ‘Up in the Air’ by Nick Meador The Science of Disasterology by Nick Meador A Reflection of One’s Genetic Architecture by Nick Meador A Supraterranean Manifesto by Nick Meador The Self-Directed Initiation of a Writer by Nick Meador