Before we go any further, watch this video.
Watch it very closely and hold out your hands to catch your chin because your jaw will drop:
Right?
Crazy! This is the kind of thing B. learns about in class. I'm so glad she loves science and can maintain a constant wonder at the world around her. I'm no scientist, but she does a good job dumbing down all the details into stuff like this that I can understand, appreciate, and geek out over.
Every week it seems that she wants to specialize in some new animal study in grad school. When she was learning about mushrooms and fungus, she was set to be a mycologist. We went fungus hunting over Christmas break one morning with my little brother, taking pictures of cool samples - this is what I married. Then it was all about whales. My B., the marine biologist. She's considered ornithology (after watching the lyrebird rock out, so would I!), mammal studies, and a bunch of other -ologies I can't pronounce. Except botany. Plants are pretty boring. Oh, and entomology. I think her new last name might be a bit of a deterrent. Plus she hates spiders.
I didn't have pets, I had brothers.
Well, there was a goldfish when I was an infant. But I never had a dog or a housecat (ugh) or a gerbil or anything. I always just assumed pets were for kids who got lonely. I never got the chance to be lonely. My brother was my annoying little shadow growing up. I never pressed the issue with pets because I never wanted to clean up after myself, why would I want to clean up after something that wasn't potty trained? I got chased by a German Shepherd more than once, so I was terrified of dogs until I finally grew to be taller than them.
You'll recall I made it very clear that I don't like cats. I much prefer non-traditional, non-domesticated animals to Fluffy or Mr Bigglesworth or whatever you've dubbed your mangy furball. Well, I'm here to elaborate further on this opinion:
I love tigers. They don't count.
During the course of her studies about evolution, biology and animal behavior, she's developed a real fondness for tigers. Did you know only 6 of the 9 species still exist? This last semester I redesigned an article of National Geographic for a typography class and chose to do an expose on the troubles of the endangered Sumatran tiger, the smallest subspecies.
Her enthusiasm rubs off on me. They're beautiful creatures.
She follows (and not just on facebook!) a nonprofit organization dedicated to conserving the dwindling tiger populations called Panthera. We root for the bigger cats at the Bugg home.
We watched Life of Pi again recently. I really love this movie because both B. and I love it for such different reasons. She just adores all of the animals, especially the tiger.
The idea of animals having souls, a certain oneness between us and the beasts of the field really appeals to her. She loves seeing the man and beast embracing their natures in such an unusual battle against the elements.
My love for it stems from different interests. I like the tiger, I can appreciate Nature's majesty and the wondrous design behind the evolutionary destinies of all creatures. I do like the tiger. But I also like that it's not really about the tiger in the end. You get attached to him, and you feel an aching pang in your heart at the end of the film, but the story goes on past him. It's not Life of Richard Parker, it's Life of Pi. It's his story, his path to coming to know God and himself.
I've talked to a few people about how this movie ends, and several people left disappointed. They wanted a definite answer, a clean-cut reveal-all. But does everything have to be resolved for a story to end well? The best stories aren't the ones that answer the deep questions of life, they're the ones that ask the great questions. Something that makes you ask the right questions, makes you aware of daunting cosmic queries and leaves you to figure it out on your own.
Those are the stories we tell over and over again. Hamlet doesn't ever clearly define sanity. Frankenstein raises real dilemmas about parenthood and the power to create life without asserting any answers. I'm not saying that Pi is of the same calibur as those literary classics. I'm just pointing out that it's often better to be left wondering, thinking for yourself. That's what this story does to me. I think deep thoughts about God and man and nature when I see it. I don't begrudge it its ambiguous end.
I read somewhere about a study the found that people who read more (particularly more fiction) were less perturbed by ambiguity. I don't know why the lack of clarity doesn't bother me when it drives other people up the wall. I like an ending that leaves me to wonder. Others demand a concise, cut-and-dry resolution.
What about you? How do you like your endings?
Can you endure ambiguity?
S
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