Here’s the final speech the Log Lady wrote for her own funeral in Twin Peaks, and who inherited her log. While it only lasted two seasons, the original series of Twin Peaks had a major impact on future shows. The series revolved around FBI Agent Cooper, who comes to the titular small town to investigate the murder of teenager Laura Palmer.
Twin Peaks was co-created by Mark Frost and David Lynch, with the latter bringing his trademark style and quirky sense of humor to it. The first season remains beloved, but for various reasons season 2 became something of a mess, which led to its cancellation. Lynch soon returned with prequel Fire Walk With Me, which depicted Laura’s final week. This movie was significantly darker than the show, but while it faced backlash upon release, its since been reappraised.
Lynch and Frost made a belated return to the town with the fittingly named Twin Peaks: The Return in 2017. The show was met with critical acclaim and is considered one of the best seasons of television of the last decade. It also featured much of the original cast, including Catherine Coulson as the iconic Log Lady Margaret Lanterman.
![Twin Peaks: Read The Log Lady’s Funeral Speech (& Her Log’s Final Message)](https://static1.srcdn.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/Twin-Peaks-The-Return-Log-Lady-e1561621989576.jpg)
The show introduced Margaret as a local oddball who is always seen carrying her log, which she claims speaks to her. She often spoke in riddles, with the Log Lady quotes often being decoded by fans for clues. Lynch had a history with Coulson before Twin Peaks, as she worked as assistant director on his debut Eraserhead. Sadly, by the time production on The Return was getting ready, Coulson was dying from cancer, and Lynch shot her scenes days before her passing. This gives extra poignancy to the Log Lady’s role in Twin Peaks: The Return, and in Mark Frost’s spinoff book Twin Peaks: The Final Dossier it’s revealed Margaret wrote a speech to be read at her funeral. Deputy Hawk read the eulogy and also inherited her log.
Every meeting between friends must end with a parting, and so, my friends, today we take our leave. This is life. None of us profits from ignoring or hiding from the facts, so why should we bother? Life is what it is, a gift that is given to us for a time — like a library book — that must be eventually returned. How should we treat this book? If we are able to remember that it is not ours to begin with — one that we’re entrusted with, to care for, to study and learn from — perhaps it would change the way we treat it while it’s in our possession. How do you treat a precious gift from a dear friend? This is a good question to ask, and today is a good time to ask it.
Such busy, busy minds we have. Have you noticed? We think and we think until we twist ourselves into the ground like a flathead screw. My log has this to say: The answers to all our questions are in the wind and the trees, the rocks and the water. No one is helpless. No one is beyond helping. It is good to seek out those who need us and do what we can for them.
I recommend that. There is nothing that can’t be done if we set our minds to doing it. Don’t be sad. Be happy you have another day to do what needs doing. We only have so many of them. We are born into this world, not another one. It’s not perfect, but it is what it is. This world presents some simple, certain truths. It helps us grow if we accept them, but many of these truths seem to trouble or frighten us. For instance, there is no light without darkness — and this troubles many of us — but without it, how else would we tell one from the other? We spend half of every day in darkness; surely we should make our peace with this.
You may decide to see this as a metaphor. Many people do. I see it as a fact. Metaphors are beautiful ways of speaking about the truth. So are facts. Both tell us that time — and light, and darkness — moves in cycles. We move through them, too, often as passengers, but if our eyes are open, there is much to be learned along the way. A traveler learns more than a passenger. When darkness comes, a traveler learns to be brave, for they know the light will return. Anyone who’s spent a night alone in the woods learns this. When a dark age comes, hold the light inside. That’s where it lives anyway. There are forces of darkness — and beings of darkness — and they are real and have always been around us. They’re part of the dance, just as you and I are; they’re just listening to different music. This may be the most troubling truth we will ever know.
Many of us live most of our lives and brush up against this reality only rarely. It is far from pleasant, but wishing it were otherwise will not make it so. So may I offer a suggestion: When a dark age comes, just as you would at night, hold the light inside you. Others, I can tell you, have already learned to do the same. In time, you will learn to recognize the light, in yourself and others. In this way you will find each other. Together, you will make the light stronger.
This truth I know as sure as the dawn: Darkness will always yield to light, when the light is strong.