Moving Pictures

Motion is a fascinating thing. I was watching an episode of  " Three's Company " the other night. Don Ritter sure was a funny guy, his body language as hilarious at times as anything he said. The show was so light hearted, it is still delightful to watch sometimes after all these years. It started thinking me about motion's opposite : stillness. Motion delights us, its rhythm, music, pattern, even predictability. The motion of a carousel, a pinwheel, a bicycle, a wind chime, the wings of a butterfly hovering by. Stillness is often unnerving. The stillness before a rainstorm, the stillness after an argument, after tears, the stillness of sleep, and its unwelcome cousin, death. Stillness invokes intrigue, respect, awe, reflection. The stillness of museums and their art pieces, where people shuffle or walk by in a reverent quiet. The stillness before the beginning of a symphony, a movie , a play. The stillness before vows are taken, before a verdict, before a declaration or conference. Stillness. Motion. One makes us often nervous, the other brings relief, energy. Cities are full of motion. Deserts full of stillness. Most of us are very comfortable with motion. Most of us get unnerved when things become too still. Puppets and mannequins live somewhere in between, in the twilight of the mystery of both the phenomena of motion and stillness. We are comfortable with the idea of manipulating a puppet, or a mannequin. It gives us a certain amount of power, to bring stillness to life. That is why every child loves a wind up toy, or a battery operated toy. The stillness comes to life, becomes motion. It is delightful. Machines are stillness manipulated. When the motion stops, is when it can get eerie. Because it questions the whole existence of motion's vulnerability. Why does it stop eventually? Our hearts beat, but why do they eventually, irrevocably stop? Why can't we permanently control stillness and its gaping void? We prefer motion, because stillness brings in the mystery of mortality,not just the physical part of it, but the why of it, intellectually. That is why cities are full of people, and deserts are empty. Only those who can accept the inevitable outcome, stillness, can tolerate the desert and pitch their tent there. People who accept stillness in the midst of motion are very peaceful, are very comfortable with silence. They grow gardens, or paint, or live out in the country, or in quiet neighbourhoods. They have easy smiles, quiet voices and big, steady hearts. The older I get, the more at ease I feel with stillness. I have no way of knowing what kind of person the talented actor and movie director Clint Eastwood is, but I do know he is a person who is comfortable with stillness. It shows in the movies he directs, like " The Bridges of Madison County ", and " Changeling". Both movies deal with stillness in the middle of chaos in a very real and beautiful way, allowing the actors and their surroundings to absorb the wheels of motion and change through a deep understanding of stillness. I don't think that as a real human being, you can come to terms with life in general and your own life in particular without embracing the unsettling stillness in your soul, that has to walk along the tension between that stillness and the motion that circumstances , both sad and happy, bring continuously. Some people blame the constant presence of technology on the inability to be still anymore. I don't think that has anything to do with it. The ability to accept stillness in the middle of all the motion, is an act of will, and awareness. Whatever gadgets surround us, are incidental, not causal. I always loved puppets, both the hand puppets, and the marionettes, on a string. I had some of both as a child. It always filled me with incredible sadness to have to put the puppets and marionettes down, when the theater we were playing was done. I sensed from an early age on, that our desperate attempts to bridge the stillness with motion were forever going to be illusory and ephemeral at best.