“Don’t talk to me about evolution!” I exclaimed. I had just been watching MY OCTOPUS TEACHER. Now I am not a fan of watching sea creatures and neither was the person who recommended it as “the best documentary she had seen.”
For those who like me have never heard of it, here is a brief summary. It was filmed in Cape Town, South Africa, not far from where I live and have often driven past. It depicts the year-long friendship between a middle-aged man and an octopus. It took months before a rapport was established, and the process was documented meticulously day by day. It shows the astounding intellect of a small octopus when confronted by danger and the extraordinary steps she took to evade it. As we would say, ”thinking on our feet!” She, like her kind, died after a year. Through this year-long experience, the narrator found peace. A very touching, memorable film. In some ways it reminded me of this poem which I wrote after a visit to Paris in 2006 and is found in my book of poetry A CHRISTIAN IN LONDON AND PARIS. JARDIN DES PLANTES it was hot an old garden Jardin des Plantes with its avenues of trees appealed they were all there runners intent or talking light of foot or panting slow children chewing chicken sandwiches with their teachers near the swings or curious wandering round the zoo tourists maps in hand heads well-hatted trudging to the Grande Galerie de l’Evolution gardeners dirty at their daily grind digging flower beds snipping off dead heads Parisians simply lazing in the sun and she was there a nun at prayer still, secluded book in hand against the ancient cedar for 270 summers it had stood in sun and snow growing slowly every year into a massive monumental trunk with branches that embrace the sky glancing up I saw myriad leaves dark green and delicate outlined against the blue in such a pattern I have never seen and after that I did not dream of visiting the evolutionary museum God bless and keep you this new year Merle
0 Comments
|
Read about the Author
Archives
November 2024
Categories |