Yesterday evening, after a lovely afternoon walking through Rock Cut State Park with my husband, we came home to indulge in a well-earned dinner and plopped down on the couch to watch The Beaver.  I had heard about the film, although since Jordan runs our Netflix account, turns out this flick was the next in line.  Certainly I wasn’t opposed, but I don’t think I realized what a dark comedy this was.  Neither of us did.  By no means am I a film critic, nor am I intending to be, but the emotionally psychological exploration of this film really caught hold of me.  For those who haven’t heard, Mel Gibson plays the character of Walter Black, a man, who, from the start of the film, finds himself in a deep depression.  A man who supposedly had it all: CEO of a large and potentially successful toy company, an adoring wife with two children, a lovely home.  Yet, he was sinking fast.  Actually, he had sunk.  Sunk into the ways of his father before him and his father before him.  A man who seemingly had a life worth celebrating, and yet he felt trapped.  Trapped by the things that most would see as a great success.  Trapped by the legacy his father left.  Until he finds a stuffed puppet in a garbage dumpster that successfully – well nearly successfully – allows him to disassociate himself from the life of Walter Black and create a new life through the “voice” of a puppet.


I won’t go any further than that.  You’ll have to watch the film if you’re intrigued :)  Although don’t be surprised if you are left looking at your own life and seeing how you respond to a film such as this.  For Jordan, after the ninety-one minutes had past, his words were, “Let’s build a fire” and he immediately hopped out of the soft cushions to gather some logs.  I, on the other hand, just laid there, rather saddened.  I felt like my mind was just messed with, whereas Jordan – after inquiring with him – noted that a film like that makes him want to get up and live.  Really live.  Not necessarily emphasizing the “what” but the “how” – living with vigor and passion.  Though there I was, feeling regret and confusion over nothing, but knowing that life should be granted more fullness than what I was giving it.  I saw the difference in our responses.  Jordan was prompted to live in the moment.  I was prompted to question why I don’t more often.  


There is an element of irony in this story that just might be worth sharing.  After returning from Michigan this past July, where we have family who live right on the river, the boating and kayaking and campfires made me wish that Jordan and I had done all of those things more often.  I always feel that way once I get back from Michigan.  So we resorted to building campfires more often since that time… and we have!  Jordan is practically out there every evening getting those coals roasting.  Although I noticed something in recent weeks.  While Jordan was eager to sit out under the moonlight and feel the warmth of those orange flames, just as if we were back in the country, I started to feel anxious.  Anxious to do something else.  And yet, building fires was the one thing that we – I – wanted to do more often.  How does that even make sense?  So even last night, with a fire blazing outside, I was trying to concoct in my head a new adventure that Jordan and I could take.  Something that we could do that was unique.  I realized something.  I have been so concerned with trying to create moments that I have forgotten how to live in them.  I have always been so hungry for a good story, that I have convinced myself that the best stories are created within the most unique moments.  I have been so inquisitive of the future that I haven’t given much regard to the present.


So if you watch The Beaver, think about it… I mean, think about your response.  Are you prompted to give eyes of gratitude to the present, or do you throw yourself into a mess of anxiety for a greater moment?  Perhaps it’s both, but whatever the case may be, don’t forget to start the fire and simply enjoy its warmth.