Did I Know You?

Did I know you?

Did I walk with you

And talk with you, 

In the life that came before?

Did I sit with you 

And laugh with you

And look up to you?

Like any little sister would-

Did you know me?

Did you guide me

And teach me

In that life that came before?

Did you listen to me

And laugh with me

And love me,

Like any older brother would?

And when you left,

Did we embrace?

When losing my dear brother,

Did I weep at your feet?

Did I know why you had to go?

Did you know I would miss you?

Before you left,

Did you kiss me goodbye?

But when you arrived,

I must have rejoiced!

I must have sung for you

For the accounts surely say so-

The universe was happy,

Every living thing. 

But would I have been so happy,

If I knew what was to come?

When the thorns were placed

On your benevolent head,

And you were taken away,

Did I see it?

And as you fell to your knees

And the rope, then,
Ripped through your skin,

Could I hear it?

When the rope was dyed red

And then rung out

Like a wet towel,

Was my heart rung out too?

Was I standing alert?

Ready to descend at your call,

Knowing all the while 

That the call would never come-

Did I witness the end?

Pierced and bleeding-

Surely I did not--For I,

I do not have the strength.

I couldn't bear it-

But you would.

Even though I'm the one

Who needed it.

But when you returned,

Did I recognize you? 

Were the wounds still fresh,

In flesh and in mind? 

Upon seeing you again,

Did we embrace?

Did I stare at your hands?

Looking quite different than before

I must have wept again-

Relieved to have you back

Yet pained by what they-

What we had done to you. 

But at least I had you back

Forever, it may have seemed.

Until one day,

It was my turn.

And when I left,

Did we embrace?

When losing my dear brother,

Did I weep at your feet?

Did I know why I had to go?

Did you know I would miss you?

Before I left,

Did you kiss me goodbye?

Was I scared?

Or excited?

Was I worried that, perhaps-

I wouldn't remember you?

Still, I knew who I was. 

Unsure of the future,

Yet confident,

I made a resolve. 

That I would continue

To walk with you,

And talk with you,

In the life that came next.

To sit with you

And know you,

To stretch through that veil

To follow you.

And even now,

I must remind myself

Every day,

That you know me too.

That you guide me

And teach me,

In this life,

As in the one before.

But I still can't shake

The fact that

I miss you.

And I continue to wonder-

Will I know you?

Will I walk with you,

And talk with you,

In the life that follows next?

Surely I ask

If I will recognize you,

But after my journey,

Will you recognize me?

Of course you will.

For you knew me,

Before I even knew myself.

Both my joys and my sorrows.

You know

My trials and struggles

Even if

They haven't happened yet.

And you know 

My joys and triumphs

In the present

And the future.

Most of all,

You know 

All of the answers 

To all of my questions.

The biggest one being:

When I see you again,

When we meet next,

In another life,

In another world, 

In another time,

Will we embrace?

4 Reasons why "The Incredibles" is Made for Adults

A considerable portion of the world's tears are shed in the name of Pixar. But I'm willing to bet that most of those tears are not shed by children, but rather, adults. You see, Pixar movies, or really just Disney movies in general, often carry deep messages and poignant scenes that render us speechless. But although the company caters to children, I really believe that most of the content is directed at adults. Take the movie Inside Out, for example. While certainly diverting for children to watch, the intense psychological examination of emotions that is the basis of the movie is not necessarily something children would understand. It seems to be something so deep that it is meant for older viewers.

In fact, Pixar can often be very dark for a so-called children's franchise. The whole premise of Inside Out focuses on depression and mental breakdown, the real need for sadness and trial in our lives, and how to deal with it all. The first ten minutes of Up deal with despair far greater than any child could relate too. And of course, Toy Story 3 centers on growing up and letting go of childhood, something kids definitely wouldn't understand!

That being said, this is why the world loves Pixar. The talent to create movies that can touch, inspire, scare, or entertain both kids AND adults alike is what makes Pixar and Disney great.


Now to the movie in question:

The Incredibles happens to be a much more light-hearted film in comparison to its Pixar counterparts, but that does not mean that it doesn't have its own fair share of darkness. In fact, this movie is probably the only Pixar movie that genuinely scares me, and the reasons may not be obvious. But this is in no way a bad thing. The adult-based humor and ideas are what make these movies worth re-watching. This is what makes the experience new every time. So ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, 4 reasons why The Incredibles is made for adults:

1. Suicide 

The whole premise of this movie is that of a super hero generation forced to go into hiding after an accumulation of lawsuits is filed against them. The first of these lawsuits happens to be against Mr. Incredible himself. His crime: foiling Mr. Sansweet's attempted suicide. 

When Mr. Incredible saved this man's life, not only was Mr. Sansweet jumping off a building in order to end his life, but a crowd of people was surveying the event at the base of the building as well. The crowd's shocked screams and horrified gasps can be heard as this man falls to his death. At the last second, Mr. Incredible catches the suicidal man and they crash into the building from which the man had jumped, causing Mr. Sansweet to break his neck and receive other hurtful injuries. If the fact that Pixar revealed  a suicide in the first couple minutes of a children's movie is not horrifying already, it can be noted that there is also an on looking crowd and a spotlight on the man falling to his death. Can you imagine if Mr. Incredible had not have saved him? This spotlight. then, would have continued to follow Mr. Sansweet, all the way to the feet of the horrified crowd, a bloody carcass now directly in front of them.

Geez.

But luckily Pixar isn't as dark as my own imagination.

What is almost more perturbing, however, are the words of Mr. Sansweet and his lawyer. The lawyer's exact words to the press are:

"Mr. Sansweet didn't ask to be saved, Mr. Sansweet didn't want to be saved.

And the injury received from Mr. Incredible's actions causes him daily pain!" 

And even worse, Mr. Incredible's and Sansweet's interchange immediately following:  

Mr. Incredible: "I saved your life!"

Sansweet: "YOU RUINED MY DEATH!"

You, ruined. my. death.

Introducing the idea of harming yourself, even the thought that death could be more desirable than life, is a bit much for a kids' movie, don't you think?

That's because its not a kids' movie.

2.  Adult Humor
Not everything in this grown-up movie is grim. In fact, one of the biggest ways that Pixar appeals to adults is through humor. The second reason why The Incredibles is an adult film is because of its tasteful dose of adult humor.

One of the best lines in Pixar history is a result of such humor. When the movie's notorious villain, Syndrome, meets Mr. Incredible's wife and children, he, in his classic, sassy fashion, says:

"Elastagirl? You married Elastagirl? Whoa--and got BUSY!"

This is a classic example of Pixar applying jokes that are only meant for adults to understand-and they end up becoming the best, most quotable parts of the movie.

There is another, slightly sinister, almost hidden line in this movie that most people miss.

Near the end of the movie, syndrome sends a giant metal robot in a rocket headed toward the city to reek havoc. Back on his secret island are the Incredibles and Syndrome's evil henchmen. All the henchmen are in a van, watching live coverage of the robot attacking the city. Before Mr. Incredible hops in to beat the crap out of them all, one can overhear a guard utter the something as he pops open a champagne bottle. He says something along the lines of:

 "Every time someone runs, we take a shot!"



 (followed by a roar of approving laughter)



Not only is this joke making obvious reference to drinking games and taking shots, it also shows the guards' more evil side.

3. Infidelity
While there may not be any actual infidelity in the show, it surely is suggested throughout the film, and Helen, aka Elastagirl, is constantly worried that her husband may be cheating on her. This aspect of the movie is not even hidden in the slightest; in fact, it seems to be a main theme.

From the beginning, Bob (Mr. Incredible) and Helen have a bit of a rocky relationship. They have been married for fifteen years, and life is not quite perfect. Bob is prone to lying to his wife, both about losing his job, and about the fact that Wednesday night is actually not bowling night.

While their wives believe that both Bob and Lucius (Frozone) are out bowling, it turns out that they are actually out committing acts of heroism, or as Helen would call it, "reliving the glory days". And when Bob asks Lucius if he wants to go catch a robber, Lucius responds,

"To tell you the truth, I'd rather go bowling.

What if we actually did what our wives think we're doing, just to shake things up a bit?"

Bob's inclination to lie to his wife continues as he gets a new, secretive job offer from a mysterious woman. He decides not to tell Helen about it because 1. it would require him admitting that he lost his job, and 2. it involves hero work, one thing he knows his wife wont approve of. So, Bob takes on this new job on a far away island, all the while telling Helen that he is going on business trips. And while his wife believes he is on a business trip, he is actually meeting a strange and beautiful woman, and staying in a luxurious hotel. Sound kinda like an affair yet? Coincidence? I think NOT!

As this affair-like scenario continues, Helen and Bob's relationship actually improves, yet Helen is still suspicious. When she finds the platinum blonde strand of hair of another woman on her husband's suit, along with a stitch on his old supersuit that only super designer Edna Mode could have sewn, her suspicions grow and she contacts Edna. She soon realizes that Bob has been lying to her and that he is not where she thought he was. She sobs, and cries out, "I'm losing him! What'll I do?".

Helen obviously believes that there is more to this than hero work. Bob must be cheating on her. Of course, the spunky Edna Mode convinces Helen to find her husband and win him back

(my personal favorite part)

Later on the island, Violet mentions to Dash that she is worried that their parents' marriage may be in danger. And when Helen finally finds Bob, he is in the arms of another woman.

Of course, this is only because she just saved Bob's life and informed him that his dear family is still alive, but still, pretty suggestive. And to put the cherry on top of this hilariously scandalous cake, Helen then punches the mysterious blonde, letting Bob know what she thinks is really going on. Then Helen calls Bob a "lousy, lying, unfaithful creep" as he pulls her closer to him. Finally, Bob protests,

"How could I betray the perfect woman?"

Now, director Brad Bird isn't merely suggesting the fear of adultery, he is full-on embracing it.

And it's brilliant.

Because I am sure I liked this movie as a kid, but the older I get and the more times I watch it, the more I understand it, the more I realize how clever and sly it really is, and the more entertaining it becomes.

And now, for the darkest, most chilling aspect of the movie:

4. Murder
There are clearly multiple attempted and successful murders in this "children's" movie.  Even so, it seems that these murders are often overlooked and forgotten by viewers. Maybe it is because the overall feel of this movie is so light-hearted. Or maybe it is because we feel like we are actually watching a mission impossible film rather than a Pixar one, so we fail to notice how dark it actually becomes. For whatever reason, we often don't pay much attention to these sinister acts...but perhaps we should.

When Helen decides to find her husband and confront him, she borrows a jet and her children secretly come along. Meanwhile, Mr. Incredible is being held captive as Syndrome asks him why a government plane is trying to land on his island. Mr. Incredible is unaware of who it is, until syndrome plays him the transmission, revealing that it is his wife, Helen. As soon as Syndrome discerns that Mr. Incredible knows Helen, he immediately sends a missile to destroy her.

Without missing a beat, he fires his weapon, aimed to kill. Why is it so easy for Syndrome to murder, without any hint of hesitation? Its because he has done it before.

But after he launches a couple missiles, Helen dodges them and continues to beg him to stop attacking her plane. She soon realizes that her pleadings are futile, so she makes one last, desperate attempt to stop him. Frantic, she screams into her headset,

"ABORT!

There are children aboard!

ABORT! ABORT!"

And even then, when Syndrome knows that there are both women and children aboard this plane, he does not call off his missiles. Even his assistant, Mirage, gives him a concerned and horrified look, but he persists. He lets the missiles hit the plane, and does not look regretful in the slightest.


Of course, Mr. Incredible believes that he has just lost his whole family. He thinks he has nothing left to lose. so he lunges at the man responsible for their murder, but before he can grab Syndrome, Mirage pushes him out of the way and Mr. Incredible grabs her instead. He then threatens to murder her, so that Syndrome will set him free. The past-feeling Syndrome practically dares him to do it, but our beloved hero can't get himself to. He doesn't have the heart (or lack thereof) to murder an innocent woman.

If the life in his hands had in fact been Syndrome's, though, I don't think that would be the case. Mr. Incredible had absolutely nothing to lose at this point, so if he really had laid hands on the man who had just murdered his family, the man he had intended to grab, I think he would have done it.

But really, who wouldn't? I mean, this man, although funny, and sassy, and wildly entertaining, truly is evil. He is so evil that he has become the one villain in Disney history that genuinely scares me. Most Disney and Pixar villains are  pretty cruel. They steal puppies for their fur, or shake fish until they die, or try to steal king triton's throne, or even kidnap children (like Boo, or perhaps Jack-Jack), but SYNDROME...syndrome is much worse...

Syndrome, is a serial killer.

After Syndrome's second attempt at murdering Mr. Incredible with his robot killing machine, he believes he has destroyed Mr. incredible once and for all. He believes he has won. But Mr. Incredible is still alive. He does some investigating on Syndrome's computer, only to find something that gives me chills: a list of all the supers that Syndrome has murdered. This is an intricate presentation, showing each robot prototype Syndrome has created, and each super he has destroyed. He has intentionally deceived supers into coming on his island and fighting a robot that has been designed to kill them. And if the super happens to win the battle, Syndrome would improve the robot until it was able to kill them. All of this, continuous murder of supers, just to get his machine ready to fight the one and only Mr. Incredible. The horrified Mr. Incredible watches as each time a new super arrives on the screen, the term "TERMINATED" flashes across their face, revealing that his once good friends are dead. These are the very friends that attended his wedding. Syndrome has been stalking each and every super, finding where they live, tricking them into coming to his island, and MURDERING them.

It's horrifying.

This is something that I never fully grasped as a child, but now I see that this villain is a sick, sinister disease.

No wonder they call him Syndrome.

But all turns out alright, because Syndrome eventually gets what he deserves.

I remember thinking as a child that this was a pretty harsh and gruesome fate for this super villain, but now, I'm all for it.

But even though Syndrome creeps me out beyond all belief, I'm thankful for him. In fact, I'm thankful for all the darker moments in The Incredibles, from the suggestive humor, to the frightening suicides, to the adult references and the shocking deaths. This movie, along with all other Pixar movies, is meaningful because of those moments. This is what makes Pixar great. This is what makes Disney timeless.

This is why I am sure that  this company is secretly made for adults.

Summer Nights on the Saguaro

The power of flight.

This, the ability to soar through the sky, is my ultimate dream.

Whenever asked as a child what superpower I would pick if given the choice, I would always respond, “to fly”.  As kids, my cousin Jaquelyn told me that she wanted a power that would help her fight crime; one that would be useful in destroying the enemy, like super strength or telekinesis or something.  That was a noble choice, which was fitting. Jaq has always been the brave one. She even once convinced me to sneak into the balcony seats of a concert with her. Jaq snuck us in, but I was the one to smooth-talk our way out of trouble when we got caught.  She also has an intuition to serve others. Through our years of high school, when she could have been having fun in her free time, she elected to work instead. These were jobs that she hated. But even though I urged her to quit on multiple occasions, she never flinched. She has forever been determined to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, so she needed to save up the money, and I admire her so much for that.

So while Jaq fantasized about saving the world with her superpowers of bravery and service, all I could think of was flying. It really is a selfish wish; I know it would be near useless in a fight. But I had not even considered practicality. The sensation of rocketing through the air with my hair dancing in the wind is too magical to pass up.

But while I don’t currently have the ability to fly, this summer, I came pretty close.

            The summer of 2015 has been the summer of boating. When my brother-in-law got in a car accident, his family came into a lot of money, and that money translated into a mint condition, high end, seven-seater 2002 Sea Ray 176. I have no idea if that is supposed to sound impressive to experienced boaters, but it sure was impressive to me! On a sweltering Arizona day at the end of May, we decided to take the boat out together for the first time. We backed up our new boat into the waters of the Saguaro Lake, and for the next forty-five minutes of my life … I simply sat there, in the heat, at the edge of the lake, in a boat, that would not start. There must have been something wrong with the engine and my brother-in-law could not figure out how to get it working. So we continued to sit there, and wait.

            But after approximately forty-five minutes bobbing in the water with a furious red-headed brother at the wheel, we heard a loud roar of the engine, and BOOM, the boat began to soar across the water. The shouts of joy and relief by all on the boat were drowned out by the howling wind in my ears. I stood up and walked towards the bow of the boat and sat down right in the front. I felt the sprinkle of lake water on my body, and the roller-coaster like sensation of dashing across the lake. I slowly closed my eyes, leaned forward, and put my arms out beside me. Suddenly, I wasn’t on a boat going 32 miles per hour. I was in the sky, flying at 90 miles an hour: a super hero, with the magical ability of flight. And here, in this moment, began my summer long love affair with the Saguaro.

           The Saguaro meant much more to me than just a lake. It is a representation of my home. The lake is surrounded by brownish-purple mountains, cluttered with green saguaro cacti, the Arizona valley being the only place on earth where this species of cacti grow. While most think a cactus to be rigid and ugly, I find it absolutely beautiful. I love the tall, prickly cacti, standing firm on the jagged cliffs and contrasted by the soft lake water. To me, they symbolize the stubborn charm of Arizona and the people in it. They are a sight you will only see when in the valley of Arizona, and they are a part of me.

A fact about the valley is that no matter what street you are driving on, if you look all the way down at the very horizon, you will see the crooked outline of grand purple mountains. The Saguaro is no different. Beyond the initial observation of cacti, there is an almost constant view of striking purple mountain majesties, and majestic they truly are. As I observe these mountains, both close and far-away, I can’t help but feel transported to a different time. Practically everything we see is new, something of man’s construction, but the mountains are ancient; they are not of man’s hand, but of God’s. When I survey the hills to my right, I see dinosaurs roaming over them, eating the vegetation that grow there (granted, I had recently seen Jurassic World when I had this vision, so I may have been a little dino-crazy; whether or not dinosaurs actually dwelled here, I’m not so sure). I then look over to the mountains on my left and see ancient Indian tribes roaming the land, claiming territory. This spectacle of nature not only excites me, but makes me wish I could travel in time and see these events for myself, and discover whether or not my imagination echoes actual truth.

While most travel to the lake in the morning hours of the day, my family likes to wait until the late afternoon to get there. At this time, not only have the majority of lake-goers left, leaving the water smooth and glassy, but it also happens to be, in my opinion, the most beautiful time of day.  After we have explored the lake, swam in the water a bit, wake boarded, and fished for a while, the Arizona sun begins to set. This, the Arizona sunset, is my favorite sight on the planet, and it is elevated even more when looking at it from the lake. As the sun falls closer to the horizon, the sky turns quickly from a light blue to a purple. On special occasions, the sky even turns to a light sea-foam-type green. Then, the sun hits the horizon, shooting out beautiful pink and golden rays. Within the space of thirty minutes, I have seen a light show, consisting of various shades of blue, green, gold, pink, orange, purple, and finally to blue again, except this time much darker. And as I watch this light show, I like to reflect on the lake water. Like literally I look at the colors being reflected on the water.  During the daytime, the water is mostly blue, mirroring the color of the sky. But as time passes and the waves of the lake dance about, the colors transform. Sometimes the water is brown, reflecting the hills that cast shadows over it. Other times, it is green, like the vegetation growing near it. And when the sun sets, the water fluctuates from a happy pink to an overwhelming golden-orange and eventually to my favorite color, purple.

As I absorb the many beautiful colors, all my worries melt away. I am filled with happiness, and I no longer remember the floating isles of weeds and garbage that have engulfed me when I swim too long in the lake, or the fact that I smell like lake water and that my eyes are dry from the immense wind, or even my inability to stay on a wakeboard for more than five seconds. All these less-than-ideal circumstances are diminished by the joy I feel from witnessing the nature around me. This fleeting moment of color and fascination, and it is short-lived, (one might not even notice it if not paying close attention) is my heaven. This sky is my pearly gates. When I imagine what pure bliss looks like, what the skies will look like when I step into my mansions up above, this is what I see. This, here, is the closest my mind can come to the beauty of eternity.

And then it’s gone. There is no more sun; it has fallen below the horizon and all that is left are its diminishing rays. This is about when we call it quits on our summer nights. We turn the boat around and head back to the shore. It is still light enough outside; the sun’s remaining rays take a while to completely dissolve. We rush to get the boat back on to the trailer and once we are pulled out of the lake, we hop off and wipe everything clean. Finally, we load the car, get in, and head home. I struggle to not fall asleep; the lake can be exhausting. Finally we arrive back home, and I say goodnight to my family.

Before I head to bed myself, I often take my dogs outside one more time before they go to sleep. Even they look exhausted. How can that be? They are dogs. They do nothing but sleep all day anyway! Now that I go outside for the final time, it is completely dark. No more sun, no more rays. But this task in my daily schedule happens to be my second-favorite part of the day. Because as I step out on to my back porch, I look up into the sky, and see yet another spectacular view.

The moon.

There he is, up in the dark sky, reminding me that I have forgotten him. I stare up at him, and the stars surrounding him, and the puffy clouds who often dwell there as well, and I feel one thing: jealousy. I’m jealous because the moon, and the stars, and the clouds, and even the sun and its rays, in all their glorious beauty can all do one thing that I cannot. They can fly.

While they are up in the sky, spinning in circles and roaming about, I, mere human, am limited by this pesky little thing called gravity. I look up at them and I feel that they are smiling at me, inviting me to come fly with them. The fact is though, that I can’t, and that doesn’t feel right. The law of gravity does not feel natural. What feels natural is being on that boat, wind in my hair, arms towards the sky, and a smile on my face. It feels as though if I try hard enough, if I just stretch close enough to that moon, that I will exceed those limitations, and break free of the chains of gravity. Deep inside me, it feels right to be able to fly, as if I am supposed to be up there, in the heavens, and not grounded to this earth.

So while I am here, stuck on this earth, I will take joy in it. I will marvel at the mountains and the cacti and laugh when the boat won’t start. I will fantasize about dinosaurs and Indians and gain a love for the place I live in, even though it may not be my permanent home. I will dive into the water even though I’m afraid of the floating isles of debris. And I will stand in awe at the striking displays above me, all the while knowing that I am not meant to be here. I am not meant to be grounded. I am not meant to be fettered. I am not meant to be confined.

I am meant to fly.