Once upon a time, when I was still a youth minister, there were long bus rides to lots of places. For one such trip we were all told we could buy one youth-friendly movie to take and share while on the trip from Memphis to Colorado.
I got online and did some research. I had a history of showing movies for talks that somehow had coarse language. I would watch clips three to four times and still get in trouble when Lt. Dan said, “Goddamn it” — it is almost as if I could not hear the profanity. Beyond being appropriate, I also wanted to find a good movie too. It is kind of strange how much time I spent on this project.
Then on a few different lists appeared a movie I had never heard of before. My Neighbor Totoro. What? How could I have not heard of one of the best kids movies? I read about it and became enamored with the tale. I felt I had heard almost every story there was to be told by this point, yet this movie’s story line felt completely unknown. Click! It was purchased and heading my way as fast as parcel couriers could manage the task.
When it arrived I decided I would wait for the official bus viewing to watch with everyone else. Turns out this would be a first time for everyone! It did not go over well. While this group of high school students rarely complained about anything we showed on these trips, this movie was too much for their, I will say, uncultured brains. And granted, it is quite a unique film. On a full bus of 65 people, two students said they liked it while the rest said things they would not have been able to repeat in front of their mothers.
“What the fuck,” I thought to myself over the next few days as I processed the film. The story is wildly original. The animation so unusual, it causes the viewer to drift to a space where reality is suspended completely. By the time the character, I consider to be Totoro comes on screen — though its name is never confirmed in any way (as far as memory serves), all shit goes wild in the most magical ways.
This movie sat with me, moving inside of me in a way that the good ones do. Apparently it sat with the kids too, though in a bad way. Oh well, their loss. Meanwhile, Totoro has been bouncing around in my consciousness for years.
It seems Totoro is a mystical spirit guardian of the forest. The only thing near me that taps into this type of mythos is from Native American folklore. I find traditional Judeo-Christian beliefs fall short of providing me with a giant badass, or extremely sweet, Totoro type of a being that helps protect nature.
The answer always seems to be, “Well, that’s why God made you.” So go out and be Totoro you dumbass. And while this is probably pretty close to the reality we have, tonight I want to dream a little, like I do sometimes when I am on a run miles out on a trail by myself in the forest. Can the trees hear me? Or is that Totoro lurking nearby in that glen off yonder?
Why limit ourselves here? Instead of seeing a flying spirit guardian as so entirely contrary to what we know of our own faith perspectives, let’s dream. Let us speak to the trees and tell them of their beauty. May we thank them for their shade and the air we breathe, conscious of how vital they truly are for our survival. Beckon for the local Totoro to protect the forest at all costs as you align yourself with the entity. Allow your imagination to reach into the depths of that which is more ancient than we can imagine — to connect — to seek guidance — to express gratitude.
I wonder if when we thank a tree for its shade as we sit beneath it to protect our children during a picnic, is there a way that we are not in fact praying to God? Does it matter? Does the tree not also deserve such praise? If there is a Totoro, he/she/it and the big kahuna would be tight.
Oh and I still think we should do everything in our power to protect this world. Just remember the wondrous quote from the movie Inception when you come to your faith. “Don’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”
(Now do yourself a favor and go watch the movie!)
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