Death. Dust. Gone.

What is it about death that is so terrifying and yet so fascinating? The word visceral comes to mind. I just love that word. When I think of death, I think visceral. As often as I try to comprehend death, and life, and the in between, I find that when faced with actual death (even on a video), all I can do is feel this sour, wrenching feeling in my stomach, and the loss of control of my ability to look away. I suppose I could compare the feeling to the loss of bowel control during death. I even go so far as to desire to see the moment of death, and I feel betrayed when it is implied rather than shown. Then after it is over, I feel as if I have done a horrible thing, witnessed a personal moment, meant for that person, and God.

In Grizzly Man they don’t play the audiotape of Timothy’s death. I realize, that this is the only tasteful way to portray his life and his calling. I am glad they don’t share that moment with me. It allows me to focus on him, as human. At first, his arrogance and futility disgust me. Who is this man that he thinks he is saving the bears? The bears he follows and “lives with” are at a healthy population, even when you take into consideration the annual poaching. Timothy creates an imaginary world where he is the most courageous human to have ever walked the earth and has a perfect sense of what is right. He is God’s sole gift to bears and at times even to humans. He deceptively hides the fact that he cannot manage being alone for that long, not just by omitting the fact that a companion is with him, but by openly claiming his solitude. 

In truth, all humans share commonalities. I may not understand Timothy’s mindset, but honestly he would not understand mine, and quite possibly might just be equally as disgusted with me. It never fails to amaze me, the uniqueness of humans everywhere. I feel as if viewing the human race I can get a sense of God’s eternity. Like as if everything on earth living or not is meant to be a reflection of Him. That we can seek out representations of God’s qualities everywhere we look. I mean I know he created it all, so that might seem a little obvious, but sometimes I just need to look, and recognize it.

I can’t say I know why this affected me. Maybe it was the combination of the strange accent of the narrator and Timothy’s feminine yet crude words. Most likely his stubborn foolishness. 

In what ways is my life like that?