Howdy and a very happy Saturday to you! I’ve got a puppy on my lap, a textbook beside me, and this blog page pulled up instead of studying.
I don’t know exactly what I’m writing about today (bear with me), but I was watching some Doctor Who last night and was really struck by the ending of one episode ( Season 4, Planet of the Ood for those of you that know). In this episode the Doctor and his trusty companion Donna land on an icy planet and discover a factory that is producing a race known as the Ood to serve humans in the 42nd century. Of course, being Doctor Who, disaster occurs but is averted at the last minute and things generally get a happy ending. E.g. the Ood get their planet back and are able to sing their beautiful song again. As the Doctor and Donna are about to leave they speak with an Ood. He offers them a place on the planet.
“There is room in the song for you.”
The Doctor declines saying he’s got a song of his own.
“Every song must end.” (For the enlightened, we know that a transformation will occur at the end of the season resulting in no more Tennant, which in itself is extremely depressing.)
The Ood gently continues, saying,
“Take this song with you. And know this- you will never be forgotten. Our children will sing of the Doctor, Donna, and our children’s children, and the wind and the ice and the snow will carry your names forever.”
Not going to lie, I might have teared up a little here. That is one of the most beautiful lines I have ever heard. In singing, we never forget. For how long were stories put into verse before they became written down? It’s fascinating to me that we could think of our lives as a song. What might it sound like?
In my book The Wildcat of Braeton, a Bard speaks to the MC Aiden in much the same vein as the Ood.
Aiden asks “And what will be left of me one day? A piece of metal and a plot of ground? I will be remembered for a time for my acts of war but he will always be remembered for bringing peace.”
He is answered,
“Perhaps, but your name is already in the songs. Metal corrodes, but songs will outlast the stars.”
So, yes it’s cold and rainy outside and I have a Neuroscience test next week, all of which might be contributing to the tone of this post. But isn’t it fascinating to think of your life as a song? It began and it will end, but how will you sing it? To quote Whitman and Robin Williams. “‘That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse’. What will your verse be?”