it’s funny how movies can sometimes have such meaning.
big fish is about a man and his son. well, no, not exactly. the movie is actually about the manner in which meaning and telling serve so many purposes in life… how they sometimes drive apart, and the power they have to bring together. stories and symbols and the purposes they serve for us all, and how it is that something you hear in one moment may turn you aside, but to hear it in another compels you to draw close, to savor and find succor in it.
i have met many stories in life. some came through people, others through experience, still others through observation and some only through thought. none of them are true and yet all of them carry truth. this movie reminds me how and why this can be, and it reminds me as well that most of the things i allow to drive me away from places or even people are always of my own making.
i once met a man who never told the truth. every word he uttered was someone else’s. even the things he wrote, it seemed. it used to make me so angry. i felt it must mean i wasn’t worth the effort of truth. i felt it must mean he thought i was stupid or maybe foolish, to be taken in by the honey of bees and odd symbols whose meanings i couldn’t understand.
i realize now that while it may not have been truth as i know it, it was truth as he knew it. and he wasn’t lying to me… he was trying to share the things he saw with me. i realize the symbols and dreams, the words themselves, they were his own secrets… treasures, really… and he trusted me enough to show them to me, enough to believe i would – if not understand them – at least, appreciate them.
and of course, him for saving them and sharing them and being someone who could do either, both.
in the movie, the son spends most of his time being angry for the feeling of being lied to and for feeling that he never knew his father. feeling overlooked and uncared for, he goes on a journey to ferret out ‘the truth’. in the process, he finds that while it may be true that stories are sometimes embellished, all things that we hold as meaningful or share with others contains at least a kernel, a grain of a thing that may be validated.
i sit here and think about the reality that almost all humans live their lives as if they are a story. they carefully maintain their histories, they trade tales of happenstance and experience, they keep great ledgers of rights and wrongs they have known. all of it is, of course, to give themselves purpose and help establish some sense of mattering and meaning…. a great fire into which we all dutifully set all things, to keep it burning… hopefully to have some small ember of it last beyond our own lives and, if not be remembered as such, then at least be remembered at all.
he was always afraid of endings. so much so that he often refused to begin things. it was a frustration that broke apart our friendship and for some time now, was fuel to my fire… bitterness and anger, frustration and sadness. and in the end, he was right, wasn’t he? all things end. eventually. but i think maybe that isn’t such a terrible thing…. and how many would run long and be amazing were it not for being afraid of the inevitable ending? i dunno… a lot of that still foxes my mind.
i suppose the funny part, or perhaps the sad part, or maybe even the happy part is that in a lot of ways, i still think of him as my friend. a distant friend that i don’t get to talk with very much, but that’s ok as long as life is good to them, the sun is shining on them, and they’re smiling. actually, now that i think on it, that’s pretty much the way i feel about all my friends.
and though i suppose it won’t be believed, it is also the way i feel about most of those i feel hurt from. i mean, it takes a heck of a lot more energy to think ill and wish ill than it does to think well and wish well. a small blush here, i don’t suppose it would seem obvious given how i rant and rave from time to time… but don’t we all have moments like that? remember the last time you were furious at oh… a relative, or a loved one… didn’t you get over it? that’s kind of the cool part about all of this kind of thing… you can get over just about anything — once you decided you want to. my biggest trouble is a lot of times, i don’t want to.
maybe you know what that feels like.
hurt and angry, you really DO want to get over it, but you need something and it isn’t there and so you go all seven years old and pouty and refuse to let it go. heh. yeah, i’ve done that here and there. kind of like the guy in this movie i’m talking about… which is why i enjoy it so much. they did a masterful job of outlining the shape of the human experience… all the flavor and color, even the ones that press on sore spots, even the ones that make you face up to things you spend a lot of time trying to ignore.
i fox things up a lot when i’m hurting. i reckon i’m not so terribly different from anyone else in that regard. most times, when i’m hurting, all i really want is for someone to understand. to even try to. but in my experience, that kind of thing tends to be rather rare. i think maybe you have to find it for yourself if you can… and if you can’t, you have to hope you have at least one person in your life whose strong in the place where you’re weak… and willing to let you lean a bit.
in the movie, the son leans on his mother and his wife and eventually, discovers for himself that most of his anger and hurt was little more than being unable to accept his father as he was. i suppose that’s likely true of most of these kinds of things in life.
i watch this movie from time to time because it reminds me of all of this, and brings back to the front of my mind that i want to be the kind of person who can accept others as they are… and to be the kind of person that others will be able to accept as well. not in the ‘jump through hoops’ way… more like being the kind of person that other people would want to be around. i manage it here and there… but not nearly as well as i’d like.
i’m a work in progress. but then, we all are. here’s to finding the way to be a fish and not having to fret so much for whether or not i’m a small or a big one.