Logan’s Moving Pictures has a special edition for May the 4th Be With You. A discussion about The Empire Strikes Back!
I have suffered from anxiety and depression for most of my life. Even though it’s a daily struggle, I’d categorize most of it as relatively minor, with sporadic bouts getting into severe territory. People who know me best have often heard me refer to those times as “hitting a wall.” Those days range from barely being able to get off the couch to anxiously cleaning the house while panicking about every decision I can ever remember making. I’ve only had a few actual panic attacks, thankfully, but there are often times when I go days or even weeks with this dark cloud over me. Anyone who’s ever dealt with those specific afflictions knows that’s a simplistic description, but it’s the one that’s stuck as a way to describe it, maybe because that’s the way those ads for medication always illustrate it. After Ryan died though, grief became a close companion to those two things, often preceding or following my bouts with them, if not both, and definitely present throughout. I do things to manage all of it; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but like too many people in the world I self medicate. Not with drugs or alcohol (though often with food), but always with some form of pop culture.
Be it binge watching Bojack Horseman for the umpteenth time, diving into new shows that I definitely don’t have time for, reading comics, watching their big screen adaptations, subscribing to more streaming services I probably won’t use, buying some random toy or knick knack of my favorite characters or dwelling on what comes next in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, I use my favorite (and sometimes not-favorite) parts of pop culture to both comfort and distract me. Sometimes those things give me insights into my own issues, enlightening me as to why’s and what for’s of my own thoughts and the actions of others, and sometimes they’re just a very warm blanket on an extremely cold day, wrapping me up in something familiar until I’m a little less blue. And because of those things, talking to my brother was a big part of managing it, though maybe I didn’t realize that until he was gone.
There are many things I miss discussing with Ryan, either on our various podcasts, or just on the phone while I’m driving or shopping or stress cleaning my house. I miss hearing about what shows or movies he thinks I should watch, him deriding me for things I’ve given too much time to (hello Walking Dead), or the two of us going in depth about something we were both watching. Without fail though, the conversation would inevitably become about Star Wars. We spent a large majority of our years on Earth together discussing those films.
Star Wars as a whole is rich with allegory, cautionary tales, life lessons and moral narratives, maybe more so than any other specific property in the last fifty years. Different pieces have resonated with me at different times of course, but in the last few years the one that’s rattled around in my skull the most has been a conversation from The Empire Strikes Back, the movie that most of fandom (and all of non-fandom probably) believes is the pinnacle of what the franchise has to offer.
And for good reason, even if it isn’t my favorite. The opening on Hoth is as fun to watch as it is brutal for our heroes. The AT-ATs remain one of the Galaxy’s coolest vehicles, even if they seem somewhat illogical, and it’s here where we truly begin to understand that Obi-Wan lives on in the Force. Then there’s the iconic ending, with Han being carted off to Jabba by Boba Fett and Luke coming face to face with the man he will learn is his father. Even if Return of the Jedi is my favorite, there’s no denying how much more powerful a film Empire is in almost every aspect.
A lot of people will talk about Luke’s showdown with Vader and the revelation it brings, or Han’s betrayal and possible death at the hands of his long time friend as the most pivotal moments in the film, and they certainly do leave you with a lot of emotion-fueled questions. For most of my life I felt the same way; growing up those were two of the most impactful and important scenes in all of Star Wars, if not THE most. It’s only as I’ve gotten older that another scene has risen to the forefront for me. It’s much quieter than either of those, but has become far more meaningful, and it involves Luke and Yoda.
As the duo reach the end of one of their training sessions they find themselves at the opening of a cave. Luke comments that things are a bit off, he feels a coldness. Yoda tells him the cave is strong with the Dark Side, a domain of evil, and that Luke must confront it. Luke asks, “What’s in there?” and the Jedi Master answers, “Only what you take with you.”
It’s the kind of vague cliché common to religions far and wide, and something we’ve come to expect from Yoda in our brief time with him. For most of my life (since that specific sentiment is almost exactly as old as I am) that’s exactly the way I looked at it; nothing more than platitude. It’s only been in the last few years that it took on a much deeper meaning, and has specifically become something of a maxim for how I want to approach my life and the situations I find myself in. I don’t always (or ever) achieve that goal, but I’m trying.
In the film Luke makes his trek into the cave only to come face to face with the enemy he has been training to fight, Darth Vader. The confrontation is quick, as Luke ignites his lightsaber and makes short work of the Dark Lord of the Sith, beheading him. As his masked skull rolls over the ground, the rebreather explodes, fully revealing for the first time the face beneath the onyx helmet. And it’s Luke’s.
It doesn’t take long to realize that what we’re seeing isn’t exactly real, but some sort of vision brought on by the mystical cave. As dismissive as I was growing up of Yoda’s answer, I was always equally so about what it meant that Luke saw his own face behind the mask of his sworn enemy. Clearly it’s just a foreshadowing of the information that Vader would give to Luke in the film’s climax, right? He sees his own face because Vader is his father. Right?
I’m not so sure any more.
After telling Luke “Only what you take with you,” he also tells him that he will not need his weapons, something Luke promptly ignores. I can’t help but wonder what Luke would have had to face had he walked into that cave heeding that advice. No weapons, just himself. So much of our lives are built around having things “just in case,” and I imagine that’s what Luke’s thought process was as he prepared to step into the unknown. “I want my weapons in case I need to use them.” It’s a sentiment we can all understand. But what if he walked in without them? Would he have still come face to face with Vader? If so, how would that encounter have ended? Would he have stopped to talk, to ask why Vader was doing what he was doing? Why he killed his friend and mentor? Why he served the emperor? Even if it’s not really Vader, what would he have found had he not walked in prepared to fight?
There are a few other instances of Force users finding their way into these caves, but it’s only happened one other time in the films, and that’s in The Last Jedi. Since I’ve already argued the merits of that movie, I’ll just say that I think Rey’s vision in the cave is maybe one of the most important scenes in the recent crop of films. Not only is it the mirror of Luke’s journey on Dagobah, but it reinforces exactly what Yoda tells him. There’s nothing in there except what she takes with her. Namely fear and doubt disguised as endless questions.
Who is she? Where does she come from? Why is this happening to her? How does she fit into all of this? Is she special? If so, why her? If not, why not her? So many more. And all of these questions just further isolate her and confuse her. Then, when we find out the answers in The Rise of Skywalker, well, it just isolates and confuses us, but that’s a different discussion.
What greets her in the cave is an endless reflection of herself, and the closer she felt she got to the answer, the clearer it became that there wasn’t one, not an apparent one at least. There was nothing in the cave for Rey but echoes of herself. Ultimately, finding out exactly who she is doesn’t really negate anything here, thankfully, because it’s one of the best scenes in the sequel trilogy. She is alone in her quest for answers, maybe because there aren’t any, as Kylo Ren tells her, which turns out to be not true. But if Yoda is right, maybe she sees those versions of herself because those are just the things she took with her.
The only other example I’ll give comes from the comics, specifically the Age of Resistance: Supreme Leader Snoke one-shot. In it, he sends Kylo Ren on a quest to Dagobah, to the cave where Luke had his fateful encounter. He also asks the exact same question as Luke, “What’s in there?”
Snoke’s answer, however, is much different, though it may actually mean the same thing. He says, “What you’ve been too weak to bury.” So Kylo embarks, and not-so-surprisingly comes face to face with the target of his own anger and vengeance, the visage of Luke Skywalker. He acts in kind, striking him down, but then he’s given a second vision, that of his parents.
As Snoke tries to stoke the fire of his resentments from afar, assuming his apprentice will take the same approach to them as he did to Luke, Kylo surprises him and destroys the holy ground altogether. I’m still not convinced that his ultimate reaction wasn’t the right one over-all.
So, what does that have to do with me, my anxiety, my grief and my depression?
It’s all about learning to stop always carrying that with me, or at least stop carrying it so closely. I hold onto things far longer than is either necessary or remotely healthy. Every misstep, every mistake, every slight (either by me or against me), every negative thought, I take those things into every new encounter, every new place, every new season of my life. And then I wonder why I find them staring back at me again and again.
What’s in there? What’s inside that you’re going to have to face over and over? Only what you take with you.
Logan’s Moving Pictures has a special edition for May the 4th Be With You. A discussion about The Empire Strikes Back!
I have suffered from anxiety and depression for most of my life. Even though it’s a daily struggle, I’d categorize most of it as relatively minor, with sporadic bouts getting into severe territory. People who know me best have often heard me refer to those times as “hitting a wall.” Those days range from barely being able to get off the couch to anxiously cleaning the house while panicking about every decision I can ever remember making. I’ve only had a few actual panic attacks, thankfully, but there are often times when I go days or even weeks with this dark cloud over me. Anyone who’s ever dealt with those specific afflictions knows that’s a simplistic description, but it’s the one that’s stuck as a way to describe it, maybe because that’s the way those ads for medication always illustrate it. After Ryan died though, grief became a close companion to those two things, often preceding or following my bouts with them, if not both, and definitely present throughout. I do things to manage all of it; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but like too many people in the world I self medicate. Not with drugs or alcohol (though often with food), but always with some form of pop culture.
Be it binge watching Bojack Horseman for the umpteenth time, diving into new shows that I definitely don’t have time for, reading comics, watching their big screen adaptations, subscribing to more streaming services I probably won’t use, buying some random toy or knick knack of my favorite characters or dwelling on what comes next in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, I use my favorite (and sometimes not-favorite) parts of pop culture to both comfort and distract me. Sometimes those things give me insights into my own issues, enlightening me as to why’s and what for’s of my own thoughts and the actions of others, and sometimes they’re just a very warm blanket on an extremely cold day, wrapping me up in something familiar until I’m a little less blue. And because of those things, talking to my brother was a big part of managing it, though maybe I didn’t realize that until he was gone.
There are many things I miss discussing with Ryan, either on our various podcasts, or just on the phone while I’m driving or shopping or stress cleaning my house. I miss hearing about what shows or movies he thinks I should watch, him deriding me for things I’ve given too much time to (hello Walking Dead), or the two of us going in depth about something we were both watching. Without fail though, the conversation would inevitably become about Star Wars. We spent a large majority of our years on Earth together discussing those films.
Star Wars as a whole is rich with allegory, cautionary tales, life lessons and moral narratives, maybe more so than any other specific property in the last fifty years. Different pieces have resonated with me at different times of course, but in the last few years the one that’s rattled around in my skull the most has been a conversation from The Empire Strikes Back, the movie that most of fandom (and all of non-fandom probably) believes is the pinnacle of what the franchise has to offer.
And for good reason, even if it isn’t my favorite. The opening on Hoth is as fun to watch as it is brutal for our heroes. The AT-ATs remain one of the Galaxy’s coolest vehicles, even if they seem somewhat illogical, and it’s here where we truly begin to understand that Obi-Wan lives on in the Force. Then there’s the iconic ending, with Han being carted off to Jabba by Boba Fett and Luke coming face to face with the man he will learn is his father. Even if Return of the Jedi is my favorite, there’s no denying how much more powerful a film Empire is in almost every aspect.
A lot of people will talk about Luke’s showdown with Vader and the revelation it brings, or Han’s betrayal and possible death at the hands of his long time friend as the most pivotal moments in the film, and they certainly do leave you with a lot of emotion-fueled questions. For most of my life I felt the same way; growing up those were two of the most impactful and important scenes in all of Star Wars, if not THE most. It’s only as I’ve gotten older that another scene has risen to the forefront for me. It’s much quieter than either of those, but has become far more meaningful, and it involves Luke and Yoda.
As the duo reach the end of one of their training sessions they find themselves at the opening of a cave. Luke comments that things are a bit off, he feels a coldness. Yoda tells him the cave is strong with the Dark Side, a domain of evil, and that Luke must confront it. Luke asks, “What’s in there?” and the Jedi Master answers, “Only what you take with you.”
It’s the kind of vague cliché common to religions far and wide, and something we’ve come to expect from Yoda in our brief time with him. For most of my life (since that specific sentiment is almost exactly as old as I am) that’s exactly the way I looked at it; nothing more than platitude. It’s only been in the last few years that it took on a much deeper meaning, and has specifically become something of a maxim for how I want to approach my life and the situations I find myself in. I don’t always (or ever) achieve that goal, but I’m trying.
In the film Luke makes his trek into the cave only to come face to face with the enemy he has been training to fight, Darth Vader. The confrontation is quick, as Luke ignites his lightsaber and makes short work of the Dark Lord of the Sith, beheading him. As his masked skull rolls over the ground, the rebreather explodes, fully revealing for the first time the face beneath the onyx helmet. And it’s Luke’s.
It doesn’t take long to realize that what we’re seeing isn’t exactly real, but some sort of vision brought on by the mystical cave. As dismissive as I was growing up of Yoda’s answer, I was always equally so about what it meant that Luke saw his own face behind the mask of his sworn enemy. Clearly it’s just a foreshadowing of the information that Vader would give to Luke in the film’s climax, right? He sees his own face because Vader is his father. Right?
I’m not so sure any more.
After telling Luke “Only what you take with you,” he also tells him that he will not need his weapons, something Luke promptly ignores. I can’t help but wonder what Luke would have had to face had he walked into that cave heeding that advice. No weapons, just himself. So much of our lives are built around having things “just in case,” and I imagine that’s what Luke’s thought process was as he prepared to step into the unknown. “I want my weapons in case I need to use them.” It’s a sentiment we can all understand. But what if he walked in without them? Would he have still come face to face with Vader? If so, how would that encounter have ended? Would he have stopped to talk, to ask why Vader was doing what he was doing? Why he killed his friend and mentor? Why he served the emperor? Even if it’s not really Vader, what would he have found had he not walked in prepared to fight?
There are a few other instances of Force users finding their way into these caves, but it’s only happened one other time in the films, and that’s in The Last Jedi. Since I’ve already argued the merits of that movie, I’ll just say that I think Rey’s vision in the cave is maybe one of the most important scenes in the recent crop of films. Not only is it the mirror of Luke’s journey on Dagobah, but it reinforces exactly what Yoda tells him. There’s nothing in there except what she takes with her. Namely fear and doubt disguised as endless questions.
Who is she? Where does she come from? Why is this happening to her? How does she fit into all of this? Is she special? If so, why her? If not, why not her? So many more. And all of these questions just further isolate her and confuse her. Then, when we find out the answers in The Rise of Skywalker, well, it just isolates and confuses us, but that’s a different discussion.
What greets her in the cave is an endless reflection of herself, and the closer she felt she got to the answer, the clearer it became that there wasn’t one, not an apparent one at least. There was nothing in the cave for Rey but echoes of herself. Ultimately, finding out exactly who she is doesn’t really negate anything here, thankfully, because it’s one of the best scenes in the sequel trilogy. She is alone in her quest for answers, maybe because there aren’t any, as Kylo Ren tells her, which turns out to be not true. But if Yoda is right, maybe she sees those versions of herself because those are just the things she took with her.
The only other example I’ll give comes from the comics, specifically the Age of Resistance: Supreme Leader Snoke one-shot. In it, he sends Kylo Ren on a quest to Dagobah, to the cave where Luke had his fateful encounter. He also asks the exact same question as Luke, “What’s in there?”
Snoke’s answer, however, is much different, though it may actually mean the same thing. He says, “What you’ve been too weak to bury.” So Kylo embarks, and not-so-surprisingly comes face to face with the target of his own anger and vengeance, the visage of Luke Skywalker. He acts in kind, striking him down, but then he’s given a second vision, that of his parents.
As Snoke tries to stoke the fire of his resentments from afar, assuming his apprentice will take the same approach to them as he did to Luke, Kylo surprises him and destroys the holy ground altogether. I’m still not convinced that his ultimate reaction wasn’t the right one over-all.
So, what does that have to do with me, my anxiety, my grief and my depression?
It’s all about learning to stop always carrying that with me, or at least stop carrying it so closely. I hold onto things far longer than is either necessary or remotely healthy. Every misstep, every mistake, every slight (either by me or against me), every negative thought, I take those things into every new encounter, every new place, every new season of my life. And then I wonder why I find them staring back at me again and again.
What’s in there? What’s inside that you’re going to have to face over and over? Only what you take with you.
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