Director's Notes – Episode 132 – Bedtime Story

(NOTE: As always, Director's Notes contain spoilers)

One night my wife, Jillian, and I were discussing a person we don't like much. Let's call this person Frank. Frank is extremely Businessman. Frank is competitive and aggressive. He doesn't like to read or watch movies that aren't about Navy SEALs. Frank does not like to hear what you have to say but will certainly tell you exactly what he thinks at all times.

Jillian and I were drinking some bourbon (a dietary supplement used primarily to enhance pettiness), and we began to talk about reincarnation: "When Frank dies, what will he be reborn as?" That question quickly (d)evolved into "What *should* he be reborn as?"

A mosquito? Yes! So small and insignificant. So easily swatted away. But ultimately, if Frank were a mosquito, he'd still get to do what he loved: annoy people. That's not very punitive.

A worm? Not bad. Blind and useless, at the bottom of the food chain. Has to live in dirt and get eaten by birds. But as with any kind of bug, he gets to do whatever he wants for a short time and then reincarnate as something else. He maintains his fast-paced, multi-tasking CEO disposition.

Honestly, if karma and reincarnation were real, and in synch with one another, Frank wouldn't be reborn as an ugly or insignificant-seeming creature. No, if there were karmic justice, Frank would be reborn as a tree. An oak or something equally majestic.

On the surface, why would we want an overbearing business guy who only likes to hear himself talk to become this gorgeous, highly-respected monument of nature?

Because it's not about punishment but reform. The man who cannot listen, is reborn as an entity that cannot speak. The man who cannot hold still, cannot move. The man who cannot learn, cannot ignore every aspect of life around it. Plus, he'd be covered in spiders, and birds would shit on him. Like, constantly.

Anyway, Jillian and I fell asleep and our whiskey pettiness wore off over late morning coffee, but I was still thinking about this image of a human reincarnated as a tree. It's not completely unique (Once on this Island narrates this parable beautifully), but rather than just the poetry of someone becoming a tree, I was interested in the longevity of someone becoming a tree.

Trees live for a long damn time, and they can't really run a business, nor check their emails, nor mansplain WWII history to everyone, nor shoo away beetles who like to eat holes in their skin. But I bet trees understand so much about how weather works, and all the different cicada chirps. I bet trees are extremely in touch with their own bodies, because they never muddy their intuition with thoughts or action.

Anyway, Jillian and I don't wish ill will on Frank. We think if he ever became a tree, he'd eventually be reborn as a much better human.

- Jeffrey Cranor
August 15, 2018