Hmm. After writing what I did the other day about Cast Away, and Texas, and how they’ve spoken to me over the years, I had to refresh my memory. Allow it to speak to me again.
I watched it once more tonight.
There were several things I really needed to do, the least of which was to sit and watch a movie. Alone. But I did.
I’m not going to try to draw any further deep spiritual meaning out of what is very obvious in this, at least to me. The only observation I can make is that this STILL SPEAKS TO ME. It still moves me.
Perhaps it moves me even more than before. The events of the last year and a half have sensitized me, tenderized me. I guess they can do either one of two things. They can make you hard, or they can make you tender. And it could be that they do both. I’m not sure how that works, or how much control we have over it, really. It’s a mystery. It may have more to do with how we’re made, who we’ve become, God’s purpose in it, and what we believe. Others may be able to tell you more about what it’s wrought in me than I can myself. It’s hard to say, looking from the inside out.
Oh, I flipped through the scene selection menu, and looked up the signature scene from the movie. In the menu it’s scene 31, “At The Crossroads”… the reason I chose it to represent this blog, after all.
The final dialogue goes something like this;
Woman: “You look lost. Where ya headed?”
Chuck: “Well, I was just about to figure that out.”
Woman: “Well that’s 83 South, and this road here will hook you up with I-40 East. Um, if you turn right that will take you to Amarillo, Flagstaff… California; and if you head back that direction you’ll find a whole lot of nuthin’ all the way to Canada.”
Chuck: “I got it…”
Woman: “Alright. Good luck, cowboy!”
Chuck: “Thank you…”
She drives off, and Chuck sees the angel wing emblem on the tailgate as the truck disappears. He catches himself, stunned for a second, as he realizes what he’s just seen. He then turns and fumbles with his map for several minutes, standing in the middle of the crossroads. Turning in each direction, he pauses and stares down the road stretching out ahead of him. It’s a long way to anywhere on them from what I can see. In any direction there is a journey to be had. He turns back in the direction in which the truck had disappeared just minutes before.
He stares with a far away look in his eyes, obviously thinking about all he had experienced, and the package that saved his life. It gave him hope, spoke something into him, although he couldn’t tell you what that was at all. He just knew it had.
I think that’s how you know which way to go. When you’re standing at the crossroads, and all possible roads look the same.
So, now it’s time for bed, and I haven’t accomplished a thing. 🙂