I had never before read Life of Pi, but I had heard a lot about it for a long time. As soon as I started reading this story, I almost immediately figured out what everyone was talking about. Pi is a lovably precocious protagonist – a rebel, thinking the way HE wants to think and not the way others tell him to. He is everything I wish I could be, in so many ways. But there were two distinct aspects of Pi himself that I especially enjoyed and related to in this book.
The first is a little trivial, a little superficial, but it’s fun for me. As a person with a “weird” name, I immediately empathize with Pi’s situation in schools. From the ages of about six through eleven, I hated my name. “Spinach!” the kids at school would call after me, taunting me until I would cover my ears in agony. Children, out of almost any type of person, are cruelest when it comes to being different, Pi and I both learned. As Pi said, “the sound disappear, but the hurt would linger,” (Life of Pi, 26).(Being made fun of - for any reason - is a terrible experience for a child...one that sticks with you. image courtesy of:http://heroworkshop.files.wordpress.com/2008/04/bully7.jpg). Also similar to Pi’s experience, I cannot tell you how many times my name has been mispronounced or, frankly, butchered in the mouth of some snotty Starbucks cashier or doctor’s office receptionist. “Spendthrift? The doctor will see you now,” or “Spencer, your vanilla spice cappuccino is ready!” are phrases I have heard often. Though I have grown to be truly proud of my name, I have found that it is a big time saver when I call myself “Nancy” when asked in restaurants or over the phone what my name is, much like Piscine became known as simply Pi for clarifying purposes. Another similarity I adored about Pi and myself was our names similar definitions: Piscine refers to a pool and Spindrift refers to sea spray in the ocean. Water babies, both of us.
The other aspect of young Pi that particularly resonated with me was found in his explanation of animal life in zoos. In this class we have learned about the torturous pain of zoos for animals – that the life of an animal in a zoo is severely damaged by the very nature of their enclosure from their natural habitat. Pi, however, made me see that possibly this might not always be the case. “Zoo detractors should realize that animals don’t escape to somewhere but from something,” says Pi of people like me (Life of Pi, 51). While I always considered ANY kind of entrapment to be a bad thing, Pi’s views has made me rethink a portion of my views on this subject. Maybe it is a luxurious lifestyle that animals in zoos get to lead, and maybe it is a hard and frightening life that they would live were they not taken care of in a zoo. Of course, Pi is quick to point out that a dirty or poorly kept zoo would not be acceptable, for “everything in an enclosure must be just right,” (Life of Pi, 50). However, when done right, Pi says that “the result is an emotionally stable, stress-free wild animal that not only stays put, but is healthy, lives a very long time, eats without fuss, behaves and socializes in natural ways and – the best sign – reproduces,” (Life of Pi, 49). Though I am not sure that my entire mindset regarding zoos has changed after reading Pi’s point of view, I must say he brings up some interesting points that I will think about further.(Is this elephant smiling?Pi sure would argue that he is! image courtesy of:http://farm1.static.flickr.com/131/322379596_4bcd32384b.jpg)
It’s 10:21 pm, August 26, 2009. I’ve been at this new school, living in this new dorm with these new people, a member of this new swim team, in this new city for one week now – alone. Everything is different, and not in a good way.My bed is uncomfortable, my roommate is about twenty times more outgoing than I am, the CoOp didn’t have any of my books, and I got lost on the way to almost all of my classes today. I call my mom, knowing she will be able to help me. Just her soothing voice is all I need, someone to listen to the tidal wave of my emotions until they ebb into tiny whitecaps of disappointment at what my first week of college has turned into. She answers the phone with her vivacious, “hello?” and I immediately smile, feeling better already. I pour out my pain to her so quickly that I stumble on my words, tears eventually forcing their way into my voice much to my embarrassment. I stop to catch my breath and wait for her to speak. Instead, she simply asks me to go on, so I do. After about an hour of crying and talking and not stopping to let my mother get a word in, I stop for good and ask her for advice. My mom, my sage, intelligent, zen-like mom only gives me a couple of sentences. She knows that she has done most of her part – listening. And, she has, as Dass would put it, “listened from the heart” (How Can I Help, 114) enough to offer me this nugget I will probably never forget: “Spin, I know things aren’t going well right now and homesickness can be horrible, but I want you to try one thing for me: take the phrase ‘I can’t’ out of your vocabulary. ‘I can’t find my classes, I can’t survive this swim program, I can’t deal with my roommate’ – change your phrasing and your attitude will change too.” My mom had, with her incredible ability to listen, “hear[d] into my pain” and, as a result, “we [met] together inside the confusion” of my life at the moment (How Can I Help, 114). I will never forget that phone conversation, nor the art of listening that my mom demonstrated. She knew exactly what to do and exactly what to say to make me feel better. Not many people can claim that when it comes to me. (A phone call with my amazing listener of a mom completely changed my perspective on college. image courtesy of: http://www.thedailygreen.com/cm/thedailygreen/images/Dq/young-girl-cell-phone-lg.jpg).
On the flip side, I can understand the frustration that lack of listening can cause. Just tonight after having a tough workout and in need of someone to vent to, I sought out my friend Francis to talk with. I don’t know what I was expecting, really. A couple of understanding head nods, perhaps a sympathetic “I’m so sorry” or two would have done the trick, probably. Instead, my outpouring of anger at our swim coach, frustration at my injured body, and general tearful demeanor was met with something that definitely did not make me feel better – my friend didn’t listen. Sure, she comforted me physically with a hug and sat with me as I talked. But, our talk began to bring up her own insecurities regarding swimming and her abilty, and soon I found myself feeling confused – all of a sudden she was sharing her own problems. The only issue: it didn’t feel like a genuine heart-to-heart. It felt like the two of us were completely missing each other like ships in the night, each one pouring out our problems, neither of us listening in the least. I imagine she began to feel, as Dass describes, that she was “trying to pull [me] out of quicksand and felt [herself] suddenly start to sink” (How Can I Help, 114). Needless to say, I left that talk feeling even worse than when I began it, and I am fairly sure Francis felt the same.
Dass writes about listening as a cleansing, almost spiritual experience when done correctly. I am not sure, honestly, if I have ever had a moment with anyone where “the needs of others are what brings [me] to a state of sharp concentration” (How Can I Help, 100). I would like to study the chapters in this book dedicated to listening more, I would like to learn more about what it takes to be a good listener, to really examine if I am as good of a listener as I think I am and, also importantly and evident in the case of my friend Francis and I – figure out if I am doing anything that inhibits others in their abilities to listen to me.(What other methods can I explore of cleansing my mind in order to be the best listener I can be? Perhaps meditation would work! image courtesy of:http://api.ning.com/files/8qnCuqQ5crGqSDHpn5N-CvXXtWkBS3SSyk2WzgWrHA6zHJojucEJt-DyUKu*ubZhj1A6DUy6YvwSDVGSUesGpdb88Be1-Oko/meditate.jpg). Hopefully I will listen to someone in such a way that I can help them the same way my mom helped me my first week of college. For, as Dass says, “How much it can mean when we accept the [listening] invitation and hear the world anew” (How Can I Help, 116).
This clip from the TV show Grey's Anatomy exemplifies a pretty blatant instance of two people talking, talking, talking and not listening to each other in the least; a problem my friend Francis and I definitely suffered from tonight... (video courtesy of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7bLqFvBY9A).
When I first sat down to read Ram Dass and Paul Gorman’s book, How Can I Help? I admit, I was skeptical of what I would be reading and rather un-enthused to be doing so. I tend to feel annoyed when I sense that an author is “talking down” to me or preaching to me about a subject I feel I need no help with. Ironic, then, that when I actually began reading this book those feelings washed away at the first instance of “oh, hey, that’s something I do” or “wow, he’s describing how I look at things.” Embarrassing as it was to discover, I found through this book (well, the first ninety pages at least!) just how much I think I “help” others – and just how little I really do. (Left: I was pretty shocked to discover that I did not feel belittled or condescended to when reading How Can I Help, rather, I was inspired. image courtesy of:http://www.bcsc.k12.in.us/mthealthy/lib/mthealthy/surprised_girl_reading_book.jpg).
A portion of How Can I Help that really resonated with me was in the chapter, “Natural Compassion” where the authors write about a “family first” mentality where, “beyond a certain perimeter, our standards change. This fellow asking for money, he’s not really ‘Us.’(How Can I Help, 12)” Though I had never really thought about it before, as I read this chapter I began to see the similarities in the scenarios described and my own actions. When it comes to family, I, like probably many of my own classmates, would do absolutely anything for them – even if it meant placing myself out of my comfort zone or even in danger. When it comes to helping my family, I would never hesitate. However, outside of my family? That thread that unites me with my friends or those close to me is thinner, but still there. But what about with complete strangers? Embarrassing as it is, I admit that I am less inclined to help those I do not know simply because of the unknown. Dass and Gorman sum it up perfectly when they describe a typical reaction to a homeless person on the street, begging for money. “With nothing to go on, we guess who he is. Newly released mental patient? We might go to our pocket. Alcoholic? We’d only be making things worse. Who knows? (How Can I Help, 13)” Many people, including myself, make excuses like that in order to avoid slowing down our lives, handing money out of a car window, having to interact with a complete stranger who we neither trust nor understand. It’s horrible, but it’s true.(Above: image of a homeless, hungry man much like those I am guilty of driving right by with only a brief inner struggle about whether or not to help. image courtesy of:http://joemoralez.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/homeless-man.jpg). There are so many in the world that need help – our help. People need help far away from us – the recent tragedy in Haiti, for example and people need help right next to us on the curb by the stoplight. What I need to change about how I help is my attitude. It cannot be a “oh I’ll help when it’s convenient to me” attitude, nor can I make assumptions about people – as I do about homeless people asking for money – and then cause those to support my driving away while doing nothing. I cannot allow myself to consider my own petty daily troubles to get in the way of doing a little something for someone who needs it – every single day. My mom keeps a stack of granola bars and trail mix in the glove box of her car for panhandlers she passes on the street. When someone walks by asking for food, she hands them a couple of bars and a bag of trail mix. While I used to think this was a waste, I now have decided to do the same. It’s small, but it’s something, and I think that if I try to do something – no matter how small - every time I get a chance to help someone in pain or in need of aid, that maybe I really can help. “There’s more to the deed than the doer and what’s been done. You yourself feel transformed and connected to a deeper sense of identity,” (How Can I Help, 39) say Dass and Gorman of helping others…constantly. Sounds like a good deal to me.
(While watching the Golden Globes on Sunday, I was struck by how many celebrities had at the forefront of their minds - and in their speeches - the well-being of those in Haiti, rather than the awards circus around them. Speeches like Meryl Streeps', shown here, show individuals going out of their way to help and encourage others to do so as well. video courtesy of:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4Blp5xBYvE)
