Jedi

In thought, light takes the place of the sword.
Through each corridor of plastic – flows
this thing we call our movement but is one;
the blue and the red cancel out here
and everything bathes in sparks and pastel
glow. Years of training, tribulation has led
to the point where each prediction unfolds
hyperdriven stars of prediction. And she knows
all coordinates in the force indicate this one point.
Where time moves and vanishes. It is life.
Or the end if you want to call it that. This light
side her opponent cannot grasp, snapped in
on the concrete moment and the feel of sword
cutting through metal and skin. There is more
to a fight than winning it. That’s the dull phrase
but more. Gaining from this loss all power
by choosing to elevate choice into its finale.
To a watcher this fight is not spectacular unless
you know each feint, each test contains millennia.
This is the secret the ones in black cannot grasp
confined to the red of this world by greed
fear, anger, hate, suffering. The light side has this
but not just this. Watch as the robe hits the floor
and a million new hopes unfold from it

Star Wars

/Star Wars makes me feel a lot of things which are hard to put into words, maybe it’s most crudely put, and revealingly put when I say ‘I want to be Star Wars’ because if I try and flesh it out with – ‘I want to be x in Star Wars’ I can never find the true sentence, when I try and concretely work it out, as I don’t want to act in it, I don’t want to design it, I don’t want to film it, I don’t want to direct it, although it’s possible that I want to write it, rather I want to be absorbed by the complex continuum of elements which make up Star Wars, which, if it is a consistent whole, is a crazy super-object which includes zones affected by thousands of people, the writers and directors, thousands of designers and concept artists and many thousands of manifold experiences I have had as a child and young adult, and the structural relations of the story and other stories and myths and emotions, and the complex expectations which I have of Star Wars as I watch it (governed by hundreds of other films I have seen, and stories I have read, people I have known) which combine and create a strange almost ‘sublime’ overload which is maybe an up-welling of strong lines of emotional affect, of enjoyment and agreement with message, map, territory, and the being of the multiple work of art that Star Wars is, which is bound up with a kind of attraction, a call to meditation, an enjoyment of and towards the thing – like an enchanted sea which pulls you towards it and you lose yourself in the waves…

Basically I need to stop being selfish and not trying to create because I can’t create all of an idealised thing which is actually the record of a hard to define or impossible community, and stop being afraid of trying, if that’s what it is (it’s definitely one way of saying it) and though it’s hard to remember it in the midst of things, there are other, worthy ‘stories’ to let go, but the feeling we call by the unsatisfactory name of ‘being a part of something’ is hard to shake or replace/