Four Years

Whenever I travel, especially alone, I bring along the DVD of The Darjeeling Limited.  I sometimes have trouble falling asleep - my mind races and I can't relax - so I like to have a very familiar, sedate movie in the background to lull me to sleep.  It used to be the Meg Ryan/Kevin Kline sleeper French Kiss, but ever since I saw Darjeeling, I knew it was going to be "the one" for a long while.  I love it so much that when I saw a previously viewed copy of it at Blockbuster for $3.99, I bought it... even though I already have one.  And I contemplated buying another, just in case the other two wear out.  I know... weird, right? But it's true and I'm trusting that you won't judge me too harshly.


Raf and I saw this movie about 3 years ago and it struck a chord - three brothers taking a spiritual journey on a train in India, exactly one year after their father's sudden death.  Raf's dad Isaac had died in February and, even though we saw the movie in December, it seemed to open a wound.  There's a deep, painful sadness that sort of hangs over the movie, even in its funny moments. I've found that even though I've seen the movie countless times, I still feel that sad weight on my heart, every single time.


Since I've been in Italy, I've watched the movie repeatedly as I've fallen asleep.  Yesterday, I felt as though I was obsessing over the details - I watched the "behind the scenes" and Googled it and YouTubed it, searching for more more more about the movie.  Hoping, perhaps, to crawl into the story itself and make sense of grief and mourning and learn how to move forward, past the sadness, into a meaningful future in which I don't feel those pangs in my heart every single day.  Even I was a little bewildered by my obsession.  I mean, I love Adrien Brody - his face and green eyes sort of remind me of Raf - but it was borderline teenage girl.


Last night, I was sort of sleepy and fast-forwarded the DVD to one scene, in which the Whitman brothers recall the day of their father's funeral while they are on their way to the funeral of an Indian boy.  Tears streamed down my eyes.  I thought it was the music or the cinematography or the acting or the colors in the Indian sky.  When the scene ended, I fell asleep.


This morning when I checked my email, Raf had forwarded me a beautiful note that his brother Sky had written in honor of the 4th anniversary of their dad's death, which is today. I had forgotten the exact date, but obviously this information was stored deep within me.  


The brain is a mysterious organ.  On one hand, it would seem that we are "in control" of our thoughts, but I'm learning that there is an intelligence within us that doesn't need controlling.  It just moves intuitively, fluidly, guiding us, like a train on tracks that lead us where we need to go.  It may not be where we expected to end up, but it's where we are.