I'm tired today. I didn't sleep well--didn't go to bed until 2 a.m. to boot--and my allergies are kicking in. In this stupor, I drank my coffee watching an HBO documentary on legendary sports announcer and former track and field star, Marty Glickman. Right after it ended, Ang Lee's, "Life of Pi" came on. I hadn't seen it at the movies. I could tell it would be a heartwretching experience, and sometimes on the big screen, it's too overwhelming for me. In the safety of my home, though, I can cry and sob without the least amount of shame. And so, I watched this movie, one of the most magical and moving that I've ever seen. With Marty Glickman's pursuit of excellence, generosity, and fairness still in my mind, I was now compounding it with thoughts of God, the meaning of life, our tenuous relationship with nature and animals, Pi's incredible will to survive and our human capacity for love.
And even though the sun is shining hotly outside, my eyes, through heavy lids and damp lashes, are seeing shadows in our blessedly cool house. I am feeling very pensive, and I can't get that Bengal tiger out of my mind and swirling thoughts.