Friday, December 30, 2005
The proof is in the Pudding
May he rest in peace....or simply cease
After long days of traveling, a plane trip or two, a change in habitat, and a vital imbalance in PH level of Oregonian water, Dino, the beloved beta, passed away sometime last night. While peacefully barrying him next to a puddle of rain water in the back yard, I reflected on how much I have learned by having him in my life. There are those of you who will read this and laugh at the absurdity of actually caring for a fish, but I do and there is something to be said about that.
I have come upon the basic truth that value lies where you rest it. Everything is meaningless and worthless until you take the chance of bestowing it with some focus. For instance, Dino was a fish whom I could have easily bought, fed, and stuck on my desk, never worrying or caring about his existence and just understanding that he wont live long and that fish are pretty emotionless, soulless creatures who are oblivious to there surroundings. Isn't that how most of us see fish? But under the circumstances of buying Dino to fill our dorms need for a pet, I decided that I would see what happens when you learn to love a fish. I would play with him, talk to him, watch his mannerism, assign personalities and moods to him, and in general, treat him like I would a dog or cat.
The result: I know that Dino was alive and had a life. I cared about if people recognized him, I took pride in his feeding schedule, I noticed he loved prolonged eyed contact, and that music made him swim faster. He especially liked Led Zep played really close to his water because his gills would slow down and he would swim in circular patterns. People laugh at all this, but the point is, I don't really like fish. I like connections.
So Dino got sick, and I got worried. Dino died, and I cried. My Dad asked me if I was emotionally attached to him as I made his plot in the ground and thats when I knew: it wasn't the fish I was sad over, it was the loss of a relationship. Now I wonder if this could happen with anything? Some people find talking to animals absurd while others walk on the brink of complete isolation except for their mammalian counter-parts. Is it that investment makes all the difference? I made a concious choice to love something that was almost an object, and in it I found fulfillment.
As I hold back tears that seem almost foolish to myself, I question whether it was worth it. Had I treated him like just another plant in water, I would likely be out to coffee with somet friends, thinking about what color beta I should get next. At the same time, the entire experience of carrying my fish through security check at LAX and explaining to the airport personel how he was my "emotional support" and that he would die if X-rayed would be lost. COming home from class to see him swimming happy in his bowl would be a numb experience, instead of the smile that would cross my face if I saw him with an extra spurt of energy. I guess it's like any relationship. If you take the chance of love, you will hurt when it's lost, but not taking that chance could result in so much more...blah.
The same experient is running with my pet plant Georgio who is being baby-sat by my boss at work in LA. I hope he is doing ok. I don't want to loose another one ¶ 1:50 PM
After long days of traveling, a plane trip or two, a change in habitat, and a vital imbalance in PH level of Oregonian water, Dino, the beloved beta, passed away sometime last night. While peacefully barrying him next to a puddle of rain water in the back yard, I reflected on how much I have learned by having him in my life. There are those of you who will read this and laugh at the absurdity of actually caring for a fish, but I do and there is something to be said about that.
I have come upon the basic truth that value lies where you rest it. Everything is meaningless and worthless until you take the chance of bestowing it with some focus. For instance, Dino was a fish whom I could have easily bought, fed, and stuck on my desk, never worrying or caring about his existence and just understanding that he wont live long and that fish are pretty emotionless, soulless creatures who are oblivious to there surroundings. Isn't that how most of us see fish? But under the circumstances of buying Dino to fill our dorms need for a pet, I decided that I would see what happens when you learn to love a fish. I would play with him, talk to him, watch his mannerism, assign personalities and moods to him, and in general, treat him like I would a dog or cat.
The result: I know that Dino was alive and had a life. I cared about if people recognized him, I took pride in his feeding schedule, I noticed he loved prolonged eyed contact, and that music made him swim faster. He especially liked Led Zep played really close to his water because his gills would slow down and he would swim in circular patterns. People laugh at all this, but the point is, I don't really like fish. I like connections.
So Dino got sick, and I got worried. Dino died, and I cried. My Dad asked me if I was emotionally attached to him as I made his plot in the ground and thats when I knew: it wasn't the fish I was sad over, it was the loss of a relationship. Now I wonder if this could happen with anything? Some people find talking to animals absurd while others walk on the brink of complete isolation except for their mammalian counter-parts. Is it that investment makes all the difference? I made a concious choice to love something that was almost an object, and in it I found fulfillment.
As I hold back tears that seem almost foolish to myself, I question whether it was worth it. Had I treated him like just another plant in water, I would likely be out to coffee with somet friends, thinking about what color beta I should get next. At the same time, the entire experience of carrying my fish through security check at LAX and explaining to the airport personel how he was my "emotional support" and that he would die if X-rayed would be lost. COming home from class to see him swimming happy in his bowl would be a numb experience, instead of the smile that would cross my face if I saw him with an extra spurt of energy. I guess it's like any relationship. If you take the chance of love, you will hurt when it's lost, but not taking that chance could result in so much more...blah.
The same experient is running with my pet plant Georgio who is being baby-sat by my boss at work in LA. I hope he is doing ok. I don't want to loose another one ¶ 1:50 PM
