“Seeing is believing; but sometimes the most real things in the world
are the things we cannot see.” – The Conductor.
Atticus Watkins (he/him) // Philosophy Major
Lauren Howard (she/her) // Web Illustrator
I used to suppose I was a mere student of philosophy and that my knowledge and theories were a work in progress, but alas, no more. I have met the unknowable at the core of the human experience, and we are now one. Enlightenment, God, Satan, whatever name you assign. To me, that name is Santa Claus. But before we can meet that jolly old fellow, we must first take a perilous journey aboard a certain locomotive. A treacherous expedition awaits aboard the Polar Express.
People often criticize The Polar Express for having creepy, uncanny-looking humanoid characters. However, when under the influence of psilocybin, the deepest of raw emotions radiate from the faces of the characters. Perhaps this was why this film changed me. I finally saw it for what it really was: a genius masterpiece of philosophical realization.
The film opens somewhere in Michigan in the 1950s, though my altered mind interpreted it as more of an infinite dark void. From there, we are introduced to the aptly-named Hero Boy. Immediately, I related to his humanistic struggle to remain a disciple of a diffuse spirit. We all know what it feels like to lose faith as you come of age, whether it be faith in Santa, the Easter Bunny or even the Israelite King Yahweh. But, like an epiphanic phantom, the Polar Express roars into Hero Boy’s life in the calm dead of night. The overwhelming low rumble of the massive steam engine guided my fearful soul with an all-knowing hand and asked me, simply put, in the hearty voice of Tom Hanks, “Well.. Ya comin?”
From this point on, I realized that this is not a train. This is every facet of my mind and subconscious. Know-It-All, Poor Boy aka Billy, Hero Girl, heck even those goofball engineers Smokey & Steamer. They all individually spoke to a deep aspect of my singular being, and they were all aboard a train. This was my train of thought. I hesitate, but eventually I board my brain train and embark toward the heart of darkness known as the North Pole.
I began to see the scripture beneath the surface of the film. The journey of self reflection is one filled with necessary obstacles. Your train of thought is full of different cars, some filled with frightening imagery, some filled with solitude. Sometimes you feel as though you lose your ticket, fighting with yourself for your own validity. Once I clued in, all the hidden passages of the film became so effortlessly apparent and deeply revelatory:
- The frozen-over sea of tears. It’s difficult to see the path forward when we feel as though we’re drowning in sorrow and depression, but if we persist, we can get back on track.
- There’s only one rule: Never ever let it cool. The hot chocolate number, a veiled metaphor for joie de vivre and the expressive ability of the human mind. Never let yourself lose your warmth.
- The Hobo (if his name isn’t politically correct enough for you, feel free to take it up with Robert Zemeckis): Sometimes, these scary reflections of a plausible future are exactly the driving force you need to push you forward, just as the Hobo guides Hero Boy to the front of the train.
As my being was shaken to the core by the tumultuous ride, we finally made it to the source of the eternal spirit. The North Pole is populated by wretched demons referred to as Santa’s elves. I interpreted these demons similarly to a Biblical representation of Angels. Something truly foreign and otherworldly, frightening but fulfilling a broader purpose. And, yes, sometimes we make it close to enlightenment but get lost searching for fulfillment rather than giving in to our destiny. We cannot simply jump into Santa’s sack; we must be patient.
The encompassing truth in this world is that the one thing we have is the belief we give ourselves. A bell that rings, though not everyone can hear it. This revelation answers the question that has plagued me for years. “If no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” The answer is simple: if you believe it does, then so it does. This is the grounding principle I live by now.