It is a sacred moment when we get pulled "out of ourselves" and get reminded of things that we have let drift past our conscious awareness. To me, the film "The Impossible" did that, very piercingly today. It reminded me of what it means to be human.
What is a life built on, exactly? When we take away the societal structures and familiar surroundings and the comforts of technology... what are we left with? What drives us, occupies our thoughts, makes us live another hour? When everything is taken away, when the numbing effect of our daily routine is shattered, we are reminded that we want very basic things. We desire food, we desire health and safety. But the strongest desire of all is to be with those we love, to know the answers to: "Are they safe?" "Do they have food?" and "Are they healthy?"
I say I love my family (And--don't worry, I asked them--they know I do). But when I watched the clip below--a father desperate to find out if his wife and child are alive--it really made me question what I say I believe. I was living across the country from them the last two years. I barely called them once a month. Maybe I'd forward them an email I thought was interesting more often than that... but what does that show? What does love really mean? What really is most important to me? I was pulled out of myself and chose to ask myself these and other difficult questions. For those that know me, you tire of hearing me say the words that something "changed my life." But I promise you I mean it, every time. And this movie changed my life. I hope I remember, for longer this time, that love, true love, really comes from a focus outside of self and a genuine concern for others above self. And I want that feeling back. I want to love so fully and so deeply that I can barely get the words out. I don't want to drift to the point that something external has to shake me into caring to inquire, "Are they safe?" "Are they healthy?"
What is a life built on, exactly? When we take away the societal structures and familiar surroundings and the comforts of technology... what are we left with? What drives us, occupies our thoughts, makes us live another hour? When everything is taken away, when the numbing effect of our daily routine is shattered, we are reminded that we want very basic things. We desire food, we desire health and safety. But the strongest desire of all is to be with those we love, to know the answers to: "Are they safe?" "Do they have food?" and "Are they healthy?"
I say I love my family (And--don't worry, I asked them--they know I do). But when I watched the clip below--a father desperate to find out if his wife and child are alive--it really made me question what I say I believe. I was living across the country from them the last two years. I barely called them once a month. Maybe I'd forward them an email I thought was interesting more often than that... but what does that show? What does love really mean? What really is most important to me? I was pulled out of myself and chose to ask myself these and other difficult questions. For those that know me, you tire of hearing me say the words that something "changed my life." But I promise you I mean it, every time. And this movie changed my life. I hope I remember, for longer this time, that love, true love, really comes from a focus outside of self and a genuine concern for others above self. And I want that feeling back. I want to love so fully and so deeply that I can barely get the words out. I don't want to drift to the point that something external has to shake me into caring to inquire, "Are they safe?" "Are they healthy?"
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