“Life, ah, finds a way.”
Remember it? It’s uttered early in the movie by the annoyingly right Dr. Malcolm well before any of the supporting cast have been eaten. He had just been told the dinosaurs at the park were all engineered to be female, that there would be no breeding, that everything at the park was masterfully under control because the scientists who ran it had a leash on life and had drawn it in tight.
And of course they were splendidly wrong.
It’s a great line. Creation is indeed bigger than we suppose. When God gave Adam lordship of the Garden, I think limitations were also given and that they still exist. We can manage the Garden but we can’t change what it is. Or recreate it. Or make it our slave.
We can only dabble with the orignal. Sometimes we come up with something lovely. Like the Black Velvet apricot I ate yesterday; which is the intriguingly beautiful pairing of a plum and an apricot. Sweet, velvety soft, an enchanting shade of midnight for its outer flesh, a soothing beige for its inside.
And sometimes we come up with something that it is lovely when it doesn’t run amok and devastating when it does. I’ve nothing against using fertility drugs but I shudder at what they allow us to do and what they routinely do all of their own. Two sets of sextuplets were born prematurely last week, one set in Minnesota, the other in Arizona. Three of the six born to the Minnesota couple have died. When the couple found out early on that six human beings were growing inside the wife’s womb, they were counseled to do the impossible: dispose of some of them from the get-go. They couldn’t do it. I couldn’t have either. Capricious life-taking should never be that easy.
Dr. Theodore Nagel, a University of Minnesota infertility specialist, said in a Star Tribune article on the surge of multiple births: “The problem is that you’re walking this line between getting pregnant and getting too pregnant.” That’s the key problem here. We can’t control the experiment. “Too” stands outside our boundaries.
Life is finding a way despite the confines we dare to place around it. It always will.
I offer no answers. Just an observation. We’ve forgotten the Garden is a wild thing. Untamed. Untameable. That’s what makes it breathtakingly wonderful and completely other. It’s what also makes it never completely ours.