There aren't words to adequately express my deep affection for the BBC TV show, Doctor Who. I enjoy the concept, the characters, and the writing which combines humor about the human condition with deep - sometimes provocative - insights. I love how the plotlines will sometimes loop back into episodes/the series' canon which aired decades before and pick up a plot point and run with it. I admire the exquisite cleverness of the first showrunners who -faced with having to replace the original Doctor- came up with the concept of regeneration. The character changes from one actor's face to another actor's face using camera tricks or special effects which have become more sophisticated as the series went on. The Doctor's personality changes with each regeneration; initially, there's confusion on the companion's part and amnesia on The Doctor's part. It takes a few episodes before The Doctor remembers his- or her- previous incarnations. But, the premise remains: The Doctor character endures, the face of The Doctor changes, and the show goes on and has gone on -with some breaks in transmission- since it premiered on November 23, 1963. We are now on the 13th Doctor.
There have been instances where children have watched the show and have grown up and played The Doctor - realizing a childhood dream. It makes it all the more poignant when the actor leaves the series. The character "regenerates" from one actor into another- but not without some angst or reluctance. So, it was with the Twelfth Doctor, played by Peter Capaldi. At the end of his run as The Doctor, his character displayed a disinclination to regenerate. Change is hard. But, finally, after giving a speech proffering all the advice - and every bit of warning he can - to the new Doctor, he accepts that it's time to let himself transform into something that is not him and yet still is. He forgets that amnesia will once again set in and it will take the new Doctor a while to recollect who The Doctor was and a bit longer to figure out who The Doctor now is. Peter Capaldi's final impeccably delivered, heart-wrenching line is: "Doctor, I let you go."
I can relate. The past decade - the past few decades, come to think of it - has been a series of hellos and goodbyes. Medical malfunctions, life lessons, and inevitable changes have wrought changes in my appearance. I'm often when startled when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "It's not me", I think. What in the world have I regenerated into? And- inevitably - what do I want to regenerate into? These thoughts lead considering the minimalist/self-improvement advice that's making the rounds, especially now at the beginning of a new year: Let go of anything that no longer serves you.
I'm not going to be dramatic about what I let go. It's tempting to do the popular-on-social-media, over-the-top, emotionally -charged rant and flounce off. However, I am an introvert despite those extroverted behaviors I may exhibit that I've been forced into by my former profession or by societal expectations. I prefer the concept of ghosting. I'll just quietly drift away from destructive relationships, declutter things and old ways of thinking and doing, and make more room for what I value and what values me. It's not just a matter of "enough is enough". Enough is too much. It doesn't mean I don't see a value in what I'm letting go. These things and people were my Doctors - using the definition of "eminent scholars". The lessons taught haven't admittedly been always pleasant, living, or life affirming. But, I have learned what these Doctors were here to teach me. Doctors, I let you go.
There have been instances where children have watched the show and have grown up and played The Doctor - realizing a childhood dream. It makes it all the more poignant when the actor leaves the series. The character "regenerates" from one actor into another- but not without some angst or reluctance. So, it was with the Twelfth Doctor, played by Peter Capaldi. At the end of his run as The Doctor, his character displayed a disinclination to regenerate. Change is hard. But, finally, after giving a speech proffering all the advice - and every bit of warning he can - to the new Doctor, he accepts that it's time to let himself transform into something that is not him and yet still is. He forgets that amnesia will once again set in and it will take the new Doctor a while to recollect who The Doctor was and a bit longer to figure out who The Doctor now is. Peter Capaldi's final impeccably delivered, heart-wrenching line is: "Doctor, I let you go."
I can relate. The past decade - the past few decades, come to think of it - has been a series of hellos and goodbyes. Medical malfunctions, life lessons, and inevitable changes have wrought changes in my appearance. I'm often when startled when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "It's not me", I think. What in the world have I regenerated into? And- inevitably - what do I want to regenerate into? These thoughts lead considering the minimalist/self-improvement advice that's making the rounds, especially now at the beginning of a new year: Let go of anything that no longer serves you.
I'm not going to be dramatic about what I let go. It's tempting to do the popular-on-social-media, over-the-top, emotionally -charged rant and flounce off. However, I am an introvert despite those extroverted behaviors I may exhibit that I've been forced into by my former profession or by societal expectations. I prefer the concept of ghosting. I'll just quietly drift away from destructive relationships, declutter things and old ways of thinking and doing, and make more room for what I value and what values me. It's not just a matter of "enough is enough". Enough is too much. It doesn't mean I don't see a value in what I'm letting go. These things and people were my Doctors - using the definition of "eminent scholars". The lessons taught haven't admittedly been always pleasant, living, or life affirming. But, I have learned what these Doctors were here to teach me. Doctors, I let you go.
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