When I was a kid, an old 1947 black and white movie captured me - The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. I don't know how old I was when I first saw it, but it must have been on one of those dull Saturday afternoons when nobody could come over and play, and old TV movies were the best company anyway. It was a romance, a fantasy. The kind that young girls weep over. What made it heart-wrenching, and absolutely enrapturing, was it's impossibility. The lovely young widow, Lucy Muir, fell reluctantly but deeply in love with a ghost. And the ghost, crustily handsome sea captain Daniel Gregg, was unashamedly smitten with Lucy. And the setting of course, was the charming old sea-cottage of the Captain's, perched ever-so-perfectly above a cliff-y cove overlooking....the sea.
I think it was here where several romances began for me. Deeply layered metaphors that have both anchored, and set my heart to sail.
The sea - the beach, the ocean. As Lucy Muir walked the beach in her wind-swept tweedy cape and sensible shoes, her face searching the far horizon for her ethereal lover, I could feel the sea pulling her, and me. She was land-locked, mortal; but her heart yearned for what the sea offered. Something in the current, the horizon, the salty air intoxicated her, wooed her, incited her desire. The sea and her Captain seemed synonymous. As a youngster I could smell the ocean long before I saw it, and it was like foreplay - an emotional, sensual titillation promising ecstasy and relief. Lucy's romance with her sea-side existence was her stimulant and her comfort. It's been mine too.
And then there's the writing. The Captain inspires, almost demands, Lucy support herself and young daughter by writing his story, which he dictates to her. The memoir, disguised as a novel, is a success providing for Lucy to stay put. What a seductive image for me as a young girl already in love with words and ideas. Writing....ahh yes, why not? I remember my first writing-love. The first kiss. The first time, I knew. It was my senior year in high school - a British Literature class. A lot of the love affair, I'm sure, had to do with my teacher's skill - after all, how possible is it to get senior girls and boys excited about Shakespeare? But even so, I was in love.....the creative process, words on paper, shaping paragraphs, and the metaphors! Oh, Lucy.....in my most intimate desire, I wanted, like you, to walk the beach, live by the sea, and write.
But I think the most profound, deeply layered romance is tied to the Captain - the lover. The relationship between Lucy and the Captain was not a simple romance - he's a ghost, she's not. It's deeply textured and complex, and like any good love story, steeped with tension. They start off terse, adversarial - we know they are destined. They become coy, teasing; eventually meld into a satisfying companionship, and then abruptly are separated by the barrier of space and time. Lucy spends her remaining life comforted by a wispy memory that lingers like a vapor - she had experienced the love of her life and she was waiting for something; for someone. It's a story of seemingly unrequited love - yet, not at all....just, postponed eventuality. For, as an old woman sitting in her chair, looking out to sea, sipping her evening dose of warmed milk, we watch her hand drop the glass; we know she's slipped away, and then, we see her rise up, ethereal-like, young again, and reaching out, she grasps the hand of her Captain, and they walk away, in each others' arms, gazing joyfully into each others' eyes. (This is where the tissues get very snotty.)
I've re-watched this movie several times through the years, and it wasn't until a recent viewing, as I sobbed away, that I realized something. Identifying with Lucy, I surprised myself with a deep cry - who is my Captain? Is this impossible relationship with an unobtainable lover about the longing within my marriage? Or, is this yearning for a deep lover, who seemingly cannot be completely obtained until some ethereal moment, about God?
Today as I stood on my wind-whipped deck, the sea still frothing and foaming storminess, scenes from that old movie flashed back. Looking out to the horizon, I felt this impulse to cry out "Oh Captain, my Captain - come to me!" And I come inside, sit down, and write.
To watch the movie on YouTube go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsJFY92QSLY
3 comments:
Seriously, what a gift girl!!!
I was so captivated by this entry. It is like reading a chapter in a book and wanting to read the next chapter.
Thank you for sharing your heart and journey.
"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me.” (Bombeck) You, my friend are truly talented!
As an artist I would paint to fullfil an emptyness, a longing for something (someone) I couldn't have. By painting it, I would be intoxicated for a while and the canvas became my lover. I understand.
Post a Comment