I finished watching Kaleidoscope on Netflix over the weekend. A show ostensibly about a $7 billion bank heist, but experimentally and deliberately designed to enable watching in a randomised (‘choose your own’) order.

We were first served ‘Yellow’ (6 weeks before the heist) based what was randomly served up by Netflix, before I dug up the chronological order, and we watched it chronologically. The last episode was ‘Pink’ – 6 months after the heist. There were a few really emotional moments in the episode when Ava (lawyer and weapons specialist) dies, and when Leo called his daughter from a bridge… when I got really emotional and teared up. A recurring motif that stuck in my mind, from this quite stylish, but slightly convoluted (and definitely requires suspension disbelief) show about a heist, was: “It’s never about the money”. It’s about the history, decisions, choices, relationships, love, betrayal, individuals… and how from the outside in, or from one perspective… doesn’t always make sense. But when you see all the different angles… you understand the pattern. And each shake or turn of the kaleidoscope will result in a different pattern.

I was reflecting yesterday (9th Jan), probably because I’m exhausted, not having slept well recently – hence probably seeings all sorts of patterns and having random, scattered thoughts – that this seems to be good parallel to describe some parts of my life actually.

To outline high level points, in the chronological order of Kaleidoscope, with their reference timeline, which is not “to scale” / directly applicable to my timeline. Nonetheless, works for illustrative and ‘artistic’ purposes. And funnily enough, at a macro level, the themes in my story can (very!) roughly map to the themes in the specific chronological episode colour too:

Black (explaining the show): Some pieces of patterns, over time, which serve to explain some of my recent / not so recent and upcoming situations, actions, decisions, choices.. which is likely to seem random and inexplicable otherwise.

Violet (24 years before the heist): A highly dysfunctional situation at home – quarrelling parents, recurring issues over the years escalated and culminated in husband and wife not speaking to each other, daughter trapped in middle. A new school, Orientation Group, Secret Santa. Letters exchanged. Wall of cynicism and disbelief, built up over years, broken down. Belief, trust, and fall. Promises made, eventually broken. Open hands – choice and freedom – on one side. On the other side – trauma and pain – which seemed unending. A quote from a friend of mine, which I only learned many years later, but was oh so applicable:

He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.

Aeschylus

A promise made to myself. A decision, or maybe two, made.

Green (7 years before the heist): Long held family secrets revealed, origin story and the like. Disturbing. Impact slightly mitigated given timing of disclosure. Adult after all. But still some. But seemed to explain quite a few things about me, if you believe, as I do, in prenatal maternal mood / emotions affecting child development and outcome. Healing. New beginnings, new life, a long period of relative stability. A period of some growth and development, counter-balanced by some stasis and stagnation.

Yellow (6 weeks before the heist): Unconsciously (distractedness, increasing instability), sub-consciously (Arabian nights, boxes, ‘causes’, walls, cans, fogginess, losing time), and then an explosion.

Orange (3 weeks before the heist): Introspection, soul searching, discussion, debate. A friend shared with me the poem ‘Entirely’ by Louis MacNeice, which is a good motif for this period / ‘colour’. Excerpts from ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’ by T.S. Eliot, previously shared by another friend, also fit well:

Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock‘, by T.S. Eliot

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock‘, by T.S. Eliot

Blue (5 days before the heist): Space, choice, and freedom on one hand. On the other, silence, distress, unspoken words. Decisions, and choices vs. Walls and ledgers. An explosion. A scramble to create a revised plan given the inevitable curveballs that life throws everyone (and screenwriters write in). In this episode of Kaleidoscope, the crew did a final ‘walkthrough’ / review of their plan, discovered issues and created a patch / ‘Plan B’ to overcome. Everyone gets on the same on the D-Day plan of actions – roles, responsibilities, equipment, escape plan, meet-up point etc.

White (the heist): D-Day – the actual bank heist, in this episode of Kaleidoscope. Did it go according to plan?? Ha! Obviously NOT. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a show. Chaos, confusion, sub-plots, betrayal, emotions, history. In the moment, people do what they can, react, given the context, roll with it.

Red (the morning after the heist): Confusion, recriminations, accusations, and distrust in the aftermath. Characters die, get left behind. Who did what, where, why? Panic, stress, indecision, options.

When I pause and think about the future, I get terrified. Sometimes my heart seems to clutch up – I get a momentary squeeze in my chest. Or I feel the panic rising rapidly in my chest, like a beast trying to claw out. And I start to hyperventilate a little. But then I tell myself to breathe… slowly… in, and out… or I keep pushing my breath out through my mouth. And I hold my terror and fear at bay. I imagine doing yoga, which worked very well for me before. I imagine going dancing. I imagine myself in a field with sunshine, and fresh breeze.

I used this recently when we went took a ride on the Snow Jet at Winter Wonderland. It was going so fast, I was actually really worried that I would get flung out of the ride, or get whiplash, or some kind of injury, especially if I tensed up. I spent most of the ride focussing on my breathing, keeping my limbs and muscles ‘loose’ and relaxed.

The future scares the BEJESUS out of me. It does. But, as I said before, I’m finding inspiration in Erica Jong’s words. While I’m not quite as brave as her, who said this:

I am trying to live by another quote from her:

Another motif in Kaleidoscope which also resonates with me, is a thing that Leo Pap / Ray Vernon and his daughter Hannah Kim say to each other in big moments:

“Show me where you’re brave” [and they put their hand on their head]

“Show me where you’re strong” [and they put their hand on their heard

Pink (6 months after the heist): The show’s ending was bittersweet. Very anti-climactic for the crew of a $7 billion heist, and very tragic and comical (almost absurdist) in some ways. I got really emotional at Ava’s death and Leo Pap / Ray’s Vernon’s emotional reaction.

I was really convinced that he was going to jump off the bridge after he called his daughter, Hannah Kim, partly because of the emotion, partly because of some recurring motifs. Instead, he walks away – broken as he is – worn down by age, ravaged by Parkinson’s, and suffering from the loss of his long time friend, partner-in-crime (and love / lover?) Ava. Instead, he walks off on his cane, dragging a wheelie bag. A really hopeful, uplifting end to the show. (Until he gets shot at)

What next? An implosion? Or something more uplifting?

Let’s see what the future brings. Regrets? Recriminations? Acceptance and internal peace? Adventures and new beginnings?

I am, I am, I am.