The Old Dragon and the Sea, part I
I'm a old and wise dragon who's lived more life than my outward appearance might portend. I've seen, experienced and lived enough that not much really phases me anymore. But, every once in a while something that shouldn't be so significant in an old dragon's life throws me entirely off balance. One of these events happened just a few days ago and this dragon is still reeling from the effects while wondering why he didn't see it coming. So what's a dragon to do, read Hemingway of course. Somewhere in the midst of my devastation two books suddenly called to be read again: The Old Man and the Sea, and The Sun Also Rises.
These two books have something very important in common, aside from being written by the same author. When I was much younger, I was told that these books could neither be fully appreciated nor understood by someone of my youth. At the time I scoffed at such remarks and read them anyway, but now looking back I wonder if I did fully appreciate and understand these books. And so it was the The Old Man and the Sea in particular called to me. I picked it up a few days ago in the hope that Papa Hemingway had some wisdom to impart to an old dragon such as myself.
Did the book speak to me directly? No, there was no "hey dragon, I'm talking to you" moment in the book. But there was plenty of situations that made me think and reevaluate my own life and situations. So many in fact that I've decided to break it down to several posts over several days.
The book was about relationships (man/boy, man/sea, man/fish) far more than anything else. The one that struck me the hardest was the one between the old man and the boy. Early on it appeared that the relationship was very much one sided, the boy helped the old man, Santiago, out of pity, but that was not the case. In these odd relationships, between people of wildly different ages or backgrounds, there is always something that each gains from the other. It was obvious that the old man gained help with the physical labor and companionship. And the boy too gained companionship though such things mean less to a boy than an old man (or an old dragon for that matter). But, the boy also gained from the wisdom of the man, even if this wisdom was often imparted through actions rather than words. Towards the end of this book that becomes all the more clear as the boy begings to understand how much knowledge and learning he stands to lose if the old man passes away.
Of course I don't think Papa Hemingway leaves everything that neat and clear cut. There is more to this friendship than just an exchange of companionship for knowledge. The old man is given a window onto a world of youth that he has so long left behind. He can sometimes, just for a moment, bask in what it was like to be so young again. For one who has walked long paths since the days of his youth, this little glimpse into youth can be more treasured than any fish they will catch while on the boat. But in return, he forms an internal, unspoken obligation to teach the boy and impart his wisdom.
And where does the book leave us? The man lays dying having completed the greatest accomplishment of his lifetime. He has channeled every ounce of his strength, his wisdom and his soul into bringing that fish in. Even though the fish is nothing, but a skeleton when the man makes port, it is still his magnum opus, his final exam in life. Santiago has reached the pinnacle of his craft with this catch, but he has also traded his very life in the struggle. And when he sleeps he dreams about his own youth. And so it is, the boy loves the man for the wisdom, while the man loves the boy for that which his wisdom will never give him, youth.
What does the sea and boats and old men and boys have to do with a tired dragon? It reminds one that our wisdom is worth nothing if we do not freely give of it. It reminds this old dragon, that he gains from those glimpses into the windows of youth. In return he obliges himself to impart that wisdom that he can. And he must impart this wisdom without tainting the youth with dragon bitterness. It is not mine to take, only to give...
I'm a old and wise dragon who's lived more life than my outward appearance might portend. I've seen, experienced and lived enough that not much really phases me anymore. But, every once in a while something that shouldn't be so significant in an old dragon's life throws me entirely off balance. One of these events happened just a few days ago and this dragon is still reeling from the effects while wondering why he didn't see it coming. So what's a dragon to do, read Hemingway of course. Somewhere in the midst of my devastation two books suddenly called to be read again: The Old Man and the Sea, and The Sun Also Rises.
These two books have something very important in common, aside from being written by the same author. When I was much younger, I was told that these books could neither be fully appreciated nor understood by someone of my youth. At the time I scoffed at such remarks and read them anyway, but now looking back I wonder if I did fully appreciate and understand these books. And so it was the The Old Man and the Sea in particular called to me. I picked it up a few days ago in the hope that Papa Hemingway had some wisdom to impart to an old dragon such as myself.
Did the book speak to me directly? No, there was no "hey dragon, I'm talking to you" moment in the book. But there was plenty of situations that made me think and reevaluate my own life and situations. So many in fact that I've decided to break it down to several posts over several days.
The book was about relationships (man/boy, man/sea, man/fish) far more than anything else. The one that struck me the hardest was the one between the old man and the boy. Early on it appeared that the relationship was very much one sided, the boy helped the old man, Santiago, out of pity, but that was not the case. In these odd relationships, between people of wildly different ages or backgrounds, there is always something that each gains from the other. It was obvious that the old man gained help with the physical labor and companionship. And the boy too gained companionship though such things mean less to a boy than an old man (or an old dragon for that matter). But, the boy also gained from the wisdom of the man, even if this wisdom was often imparted through actions rather than words. Towards the end of this book that becomes all the more clear as the boy begings to understand how much knowledge and learning he stands to lose if the old man passes away.
Of course I don't think Papa Hemingway leaves everything that neat and clear cut. There is more to this friendship than just an exchange of companionship for knowledge. The old man is given a window onto a world of youth that he has so long left behind. He can sometimes, just for a moment, bask in what it was like to be so young again. For one who has walked long paths since the days of his youth, this little glimpse into youth can be more treasured than any fish they will catch while on the boat. But in return, he forms an internal, unspoken obligation to teach the boy and impart his wisdom.
And where does the book leave us? The man lays dying having completed the greatest accomplishment of his lifetime. He has channeled every ounce of his strength, his wisdom and his soul into bringing that fish in. Even though the fish is nothing, but a skeleton when the man makes port, it is still his magnum opus, his final exam in life. Santiago has reached the pinnacle of his craft with this catch, but he has also traded his very life in the struggle. And when he sleeps he dreams about his own youth. And so it is, the boy loves the man for the wisdom, while the man loves the boy for that which his wisdom will never give him, youth.
What does the sea and boats and old men and boys have to do with a tired dragon? It reminds one that our wisdom is worth nothing if we do not freely give of it. It reminds this old dragon, that he gains from those glimpses into the windows of youth. In return he obliges himself to impart that wisdom that he can. And he must impart this wisdom without tainting the youth with dragon bitterness. It is not mine to take, only to give...
posted by Jack Dragon at 10:54 AM
1 Comments:
I am guessing that since you do not mention what it is that rattled you you're not willing to speak on it? I mean no disrespect in asking; my desire stems from wishing to know more about the creator of these words.
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