By the time you read this there’s a good chance that episode nine of the Star Wars saga, The Rise of Skywalker, has been released. You might already have seen it, and the chances are strong that I will have, too.
Normally I reserve my column in the January issue for a Christmas piece; some saccharine dip into domestic excitement, or a sarcastic voyage to Christmases past. This year, however, I’ve decided to take a different angle and write about my state of mind.
Don’t worry, sensitive British folk – this is not my second mental health tell-all. It is, in fact, an admission. You see, since the age of about eight, I’ve been convinced that I am… a Jedi.
Luke at me
If you don’t know what a Jedi is, allow me to explain.
Nope, not going to do that. Jedis have been a part of popular culture since 1977, so if you don’t have at least a vague idea, I have no time for you. Read something else.
My suspicion that I was “force sensitive” began with a shoe in a tree. A friend of mine had accidentally got his shoe stuck in a tree, for what reason remains a mystery to this very day. Regardless, the shoe was in a tree in the school playing field, and moisture was soaking into his sock. He was distressed.
Child after child was casting stones, twigs, and large, ‘80s gobstoppers toward the shoe, in hopes of knocking it free. They all failed. Because the Force was not strong in any of them. Enter young Howie.
Duel of Fates
To the sounds of mockery (for I was not known for my athletic prowess – shocker) I picked up a stray tennis ball and took aim. It was my intention to make it a joke, to declare loudly ‘can’t you even hit that?’, throw the ball, miss, and follow up with ‘well neither can I!’ That’s self-deprecating humour, which was very popular amongst eight year olds in former mining villages in 1980s South Yorkshire, for those of you that haven’t seen Kez.
However, as soon as I cast the ball, and felt the soft green fluff of the sphere depart my hand, I sensed an ordered presence around me. Something guided that ball as it flew, and seconds later it struck the shoe and dislodged it. As it fell to the ground a stunned silence took over the gathered children, and they turned as one to look at me.
Playing it cooler than I’ve ever, or since, played it, I calmly uttered: ‘The Force is strong in this one.’ I sauntered away, leaving gasps and revelry in my wake.
Believe me
From that day I’ve always felt very Jedi-y. Now, I’m not a religious person, and I understand that at this time of year, you might be. But if I was to believe in anything, Jediism (official term) would be well up there, second only to ‘science’.
As belief systems go, it’s pretty cool. The idea that there is a force of nature binding all living things is nice, especially when it lets you move objects with your mind. Which is something I’ve been attempting to do since that fateful day on the school field.
I’ve honestly never heard of any reference to telekinesis in Christianity, Islam, or Judaism, so there’s really no competition. Plus, there are no space battles in the story of the nativity, and there definitely will be some in The Rise of Skywalker. Just saying.
With Disney’s purchase of Star Wars we’re getting an increasing amount of content. The release of a new Star Wars around Christmas time is something I’ve been enjoying and look forward to traditional festive signifiers being blended with those from a galaxy far, far away.
Maybe in a few years we’ll pop a little R2-D2 on the top of the Christmas tree, and drink blue milk before opening presents. Turkey will be carved with a lightsaber, while children will sing carols about banthas, wookies, and Jar Jar Binks. Plus, thanks to climate change, December in the UK will look more like the desert world of Tatooine, so that all works out well.
May the Force be with you
Whatever you make of the movie, I hope you have had a nice festive period. If you’re tempted to pop into a church for a cosy coral concert, consider attending my Jediism meeting, instead. We sit around in a circle allowing the ghost of an old man to whisper encouragement to us, while lusting after our sisters in true Luke Skywalker fashion.
If you don’t get any of these references, we’re no longer friends.
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