My fierce companion

The Life of Pi is a book (and movie) by Yann Martel, about a boy, the eponymous Pi, who escapes the sinking of his ship on a life raft, along with a tiger called Richard Parker (it's a long story), plus a bunch of other animals from the zoo that was being transported on the ship.

In case you haven't read the book or watched the movie, and are thinking that this is going to be a feel-good tale about how boy and tiger become best of friends like Christopher Robin and Tigger, Pooh and the rest of the gang from the Hundred Acre Wood... it isn't.

Through the harrowing and seemingly endless months that follow, Pi is compelled to navigate the perils of being cast adrift amid the open sea, while keeping constant vigil against the ever-present threat of the ravenous Richard Parker. They eventually settle into a wary and wobbly stalemate, as they survive violent storms, blistering heat, acute thirst and hunger, and even a deadly life-consuming atoll.

Finally, the raft is washed ashore. Safety at last! Pi collapses onto the sandy beach, while Richard Parker hops off the raft and stalks off toward the nearby jungle. Here, I quote from the movie, which up to this point had been mostly thrilling adventure, but suddenly pivots to philosophy, as the camera zooms in on the adult Pi's face as he recounts the scene.

And so Richard Parker went ahead of me. He stretched his legs and walked along the shore.

At the edge of the jungle, he stopped.

I was certain he was going to look back at me, flatten his ears to his head and growl.

That he would bring our relationship to an end in some way.

But he just stared ahead into the jungle.

And then Richard Parker, my fierce companion, the terrible one who kept me alive... disappeared forever from my life.

I wept like a child.

Not because I was overwhelmed at having survived, although I was.

I was weeping because Richard Parker left me so unceremoniously.

It broke my heart.

The point was that, but for the constant threat of Richard Parker, Pi would not have survived. He would have perished, surrendered to the hopelessness of the pitiless ocean and waves. It was the very imminent danger of Richard Parker that sharpened Pi's instincts, keeping him focused on the next step, the next moment, until he finally arrived at the shores of survival.

Yet Richard Parker was wholly detached from his contribution to Pi's survival. He didn't care. And when the crisis was over, he simply padded off into the jungle, without a backward glance.

What is the Richard Parker in my life? And yours?

For some of us, it might be some challenging physical condition. For others, it might be some messy family situation.

I think for a lot of us, Richard Parker is in our workplaces! We thrive on crisis resolution, the next hairy deal, or in the apparent case of some lawyers according to the Legal Profession Sustainability Study, surviving our stapler-throwing, table-thumping bosses!

I was really struck by Martel's observation that it isn't just comfort and care that keeps us alive. For many of us, it's actually *danger and crisis* that keeps us moving forward. Win one deal? Yeah! Next! Survive this crisis? Whoop! Bring the next one on!

I totally get it. I've had more than my share of such crises and victories. They electrify me in the moment. There is sudden clarity of thought and action. The gears in my head click swiftly and smoothly. The adrenaline and dopamine effects kick in. It's stressful, sometimes even fearful. It's also *cool*. 

But Richard Parker is a fickle and callous life-giver. When he's done, he doesn't look back. The deal doesn't care for us. The crisis isn't grateful for us.

We sometimes deceive ourselves into thinking - surely Richard Parker will look back. Surely he will appreciate what we've gone through together. Surely we will face the end together, with eventual affection. But no. Our fierce companion, the terrible one who kept us alive, will unceremoniously disappear into the distance, with nary a glance in our direction.

Making challenge and crisis our idol, as with anything else, simply doesn't stand the test of time.

Then who does? 

The One who put the tiger on the raft. Who knew that, for that time of our life, we needed it. That it would grow us, shape us, sharpen us. So that instead of yearning for the tiger when it is done, we turn our eyes to the One who saw us through it. 

He, yes He, is my true and fierce companion!