That’s right. My zazen earworm this evening was “The Imperial March” from Star Wars. If, for some ungodly reason, you are not familiar with that, it’s Darth Vader’s theme. If you still have no idea what I’m talking about, then I pity you deeply.
Few things are more disconcerting, really, then meditating and having “The Imperial March” surface. But I was thinking about my father a lot today, and discussing him a little, too, so it makes sense.
And not just because Darth Vader is Luke’s father. When I first saw The Empire Strikes Back, it must have been 1981 or 1982, because we rented it on VHS (for younger readers, that’s like a giant cassette tape for movies. I know. Crazy.). I would have been in elementary school then. And I vividly remember the moment when Darth Vader revealed his father-ness and cut off Luke’s hand. I watched in horror, and empathy, and discovery. My dad wasn’t the only dad who sucked. Luke’s dad sucked, too. I wasn’t alone.
So while it was startling to hear “The Imperial March” surface, it’s not really surprising with how much I’ve been thinking of my dad today. He crept through my zazen this evening in all sorts of various random burbling thoughts and memories. And I let each one surface.
And then I let each one go.