Did any of you see the “Grizzly Man” movie that was on Discovery Sunday night? Maybe they’ll replay it. In any case, I’m sure you heard about this guy—a vagabond type who spent his summers in the Alaskan wilderness, loving and protecting the grizzlies. (Dean Koontz even referenced him in one of his latest novels). Tim Treadwell was his name.
Anyway, a grizzly ate him. And his girlfriend.
As I watched the movie —and heard the coroner give grisly (no pun intended) details about how the autopsied bear was . . . never mind, the metaphor just kept hitting me. So many people delude themselves about evil, or drugs, or alcohol, or name-your-sin. I mean, this guy would walk up to the bears and say, “I love you! I love you!” He thought he had some kind of special rapport . . . until the bear ate him.
Man. This reminds me of something–maybe Frankenstein? It’s one of the classic motifs of horror stories . . . the evil we try to tame destroys us in the end. In any case, it’s a haunting movie and a parable for those who have ears to hear.