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The Last Jedi is the Protestant Reformation of Star Wars

SPOILERS AHEAD

Remember Luke Skywalker from the original Star Wars? When we meet him he's a whiney moisture farmer from the most boring planet in the galaxy.  In The Empire Strikes back we learn his father is one of the most powerful villains in the galaxy, Darth Vader. Oh, and Luke has a secret twin sister and the entire series has been all about a royal family. And they're special. More special than anyone else in the galaxy.

In the prequels we find out why; they are literally divine. Anakin Skywalker was conceived by the Force itself. Force sensitivity is passed on through genes. They belong to a magical bloodline with a divine right of kings lock on the Star Wars narrative. Over six films we went from Luke as a total nobody to a destined hero with a prophecy and everything.

Over the years a Star Wars priesthood has developed; people who read the novels and know all the backstories for side characters and the names of all the ships and bounty hunters. People like me. The nerds you want to talk Star Wars with. People that can explain things. We've all got our elaborate theories on the Knights of Ren or secret Sith lord Jar Jar Binks or whatever. And our faithful devotion should be rewarded. Our knowledge should give us an edge. We should be able to predict things with some certainty.

Ever wonder at the origin of the world's many religions and denominations? They happen because at some point in history people say "Hey, this isn't working anymore. We should do this now." Then other people say "No, we should keep doing it like this." Bam. Suddenly you've got Lutherans, Presbyterians, and Baptists.

Every film in the Star Wars series was a doctrinal schism. Just look at old reviews for Empire or Return of the Jedi. When was Star Wars ruined? Was it when a muppet showed up? Or Ewoks? Midichlorians anyone?

The Last Jedi is the Protestant Reformation of Star Wars because it strips the power from the Star Wars priesthood.  Your pet theory about Snoke's origin doesn't matter. Anyone can be a hero. Rey is a nobody from nowhere. The divine is humanized. Luke is a damaged old hermit. Star Wars is for everyone. You don't need a geek priest to explain the sacred text to you. Just watch the film and enjoy it.

The Last Jedi is a brave for franchise film; a wildfire burning away decades of narrative overgrowth and clearing the board for fresh films. Is it perfect? Of course not. But that's a ridiculous standard to set for any piece of art.

Now someone stop me before I write another five hundred words on the Star Wars: Battlefront II loot box fiasco as modern day indulgences...

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jeremy messersmith Photo by Christina Heerdt

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lowercase me

I'm changing my name this year.

No, I'm not feuding with my record label. It's not an identity crisis. The name on my passport will stay the same. All I'm doing is ditching the capital letters. Instead of "Jeremy Messersmith" it'll be "jeremy messersmith." That's it. Two fewer reasons to use the shift key.  I'll be referring to myself in lowercase and while I don't expect everyone who writes my name to do the same I figure it can't hurt to make a polite request. Now let's get to the why.

Well, I'm an artist. And from what I understand artists are allowed to do some crazy shit every once in a while; it's kinda their job. I've hesitated to use the "a-word" to describe myself but I think that stems  insecurity. I feel safe in the cozy little box I've labeled "mild-mannered singer-songwriter." This year, I want to break that box into pieces. I don't want self-imposed boundaries or artificial limits. I want the full range of self-examination and expression in whatever medium suits it. I'm an artist and I'm not going back.

My name stands out too much when it's capitalized. It projects a linguistic self-centric view of the universe that elevates and sets me apart from the rest of nature. It screams out that "Jeremy Messersmith" is somehow more important or worthy of distinction than grass, or gravel, or the cosmos itself. I'm made of the same starstuff as everything else in the universe. The atoms that make up my body are only borrowed. My sense of self is likely an illusion; evolutionary systems and microbes all shouting and competing with the winner becoming my inner voice. I'm more of a composite being than I am individual. I'd like my written name to more accurately reflect, well, myself.

I also like the idea of poking at a social convention. In this case, it's a rule of grammar being violated. I like being reminded that outside of the laws of science (which we merely discover, not invent) any part of human culture can be changed.  Eating habits can be modified, theologies uprooted and governments destroyed. Culture is simply an accumulation of ideas we humans carry around in our heads. Those ideas should be examined and modified as we grow.

This isn't my idea. e. e. cummings is well known. So is will.i.am. The spark for me though, was reading "The New Jim Crow" by Michelle Alexander. In the acknowledgments she thanks the director of the Kiran Institute for the Study of Race, john powell. I read that sentence several times. The slow realization that the capitalization was a deliberate choice and not a typo simultaneously delighted and intrigued me. It made me feel like anything is possible. There are no limits nor should there ever be. Thanks for that, john.

Happy 2017 everybody,

jeremy messersmith

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The Life-Changing Magic Of Deleting Facebook

I've been throwing away a lot of stuff this year. Spurred on by Marie Kondo's bestselling de-cluttering book I've tossed a few carloads of household junk. It's been a few months since the big purge and I can honestly say I don't miss a thing. I couldn't even tell you what I got rid of.  For those unfamiliar with the process it goes like this:

First, you first gather all your like items (books, clothes, etc) in a big pile.

Second, you pick up and hold each item in your hand and ask the question "Does this spark joy?" If it does, keep it, if not, chuck it.

That's it. That's the whole deal. Clutter-free nirvana awaits the willing.

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I see myself as a minimalist but I'm not one in practice. It's one of those helpful self-delusions I maintain to insulate myself from consumer culture. To look down on it. The disappointing truth is that I live in a house and it's filled with stuff. Two pianos. Half dozen guitars. One fancy ass Japanese toilet seat complete with blow dryer. Yeah, I'm not exactly a paragon of consumer restraint. And yet, my brushes with actual minimalism leave me thirsty for more.

I toured for nine months to support my last record. One suitcase, one bag; eat, drive, play, sleep, repeat. The Groundhog Day-like repetition became almost a mantra in itself. The daily rhythm provided a fertile back beat where my thoughts could freely flow. I remember one of my first days back from tour just sitting in my house and hating everything in it. My possessions felt oppressive. Heavy. Suffocating.

So I left. I took up ultralight backpacking and spent two weeks on the Superior Hiking Trail. I was surprised by how much I didn't have to think about on the trail. No stuff around the house to fix up, no emails demanding attention, no collection of objects to maintain. Those two weeks were glorious. I worked out plans for a new record, came up with a concept for a youtube show and wrote a few songs. My brain, free of distractions, leapt into creative action. My cognitive circuits, riddled with cultural and consumerist malware, had been given a fresh reboot.

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With my physical space streamlined I started to think about clutter in my digital world. Does the time I spend online spark joy? I can still browse Twitter and be happy. Reddit too. Instagram's alright with me. But Facebook? Not so much.

It's hard for me to pinpoint when Facebook jumped the shark. Maybe it was when they went public. Maybe it was when they made it so only 3-7% of people could see my posts. Maybe it was when they started asking me for money to "boost" my content. Maybe it was when they fired the trending news team and replaced them with algorithms. Maybe it was during the election when my feed turned into the National Enquirer. Maybe it was when my mom joined.

Or maybe it's just me? Maybe I don't like having my personal life monetized. Maybe I don't want my data shared with advertisers. Maybe I don't like that it makes me think the worst of my family. Maybe I don't want to constantly debunk fake news stories. Maybe I don't enjoy ideological shouting matches that convince nobody. Maybe I'm just tired of maintaining a digital persona that exists to make other people think I'm cool. Maybe I don't need the affirmation anymore.

It's complicated for sure, but it certainly doesn't spark joy. When I finally deactivated my account I felt a sense of relief.  It's only been a week, but I don't miss it so far. It might be a long journey to complete digital bliss, but I feel like I'm on the path.