How tragic that only in death does a life dedicated to any form of justice gain the recognition that person deserves.

I bought the movie, "Grizzly Man," this past weekend and can honestly say that it was possibly one of the most moving films I have seen in a long time. Director Werner Herzog enters the surreal existence of pro-ursine activist, Timothy Treadwell. Treadwell is not Timothy's true surname, he actually had a background as an aspiring actor...in California...wow.

I had no idea what to expect of the semi-documentary because, you see, Timothy Treadwell died and became food - along with his companion - for one of the wild, "unfriendly" grizzlies that came to the Katmai National Park in Alaska about the time he had usually departed. A fluke in acquiring an airline ticket led to his delay in departure, a penultimate twist of fate. I had, of course, recalled that horrific news story from a year or two back. I wondered how one could create a documentary under such, no offense or pun intended, grisly circumstances.

The movie was absolutely stunning, however, and I would highly recommend it to everyone with a concern for nature and its preservation. The tragedy, however, was that I truly believe that but-for his having been gruesomely killed, most people had written him off as some sort of enviro nutcase akin to the human Greenpeace harpoon shields when that was the "in" thing to do. In fact, Timothy Treadwell taught a lesson both with his life and death worth learning on a global scale.

One of the things that struck me the most about Mr. Treadwell was that, despite his smiling and mugging for the camera, he radiated an inner sadness that I had only seen, ironically, in Los Angeles. It was as if his spirit had been bruised by something that practically forced him to seek refuge away from all of humanity. It turns out I was correct. Two events had occurred which triggered his desire to place his life in danger in a way most people cannot even fathom.

I agree with the assertion of one individual interviewed that he had crossed a line with the bears that perhaps should not have been crossed: He entered the bear's world as a human who believed himself one with bear. And while he emulated "bear-ness," as a human, he could never really understand being a bear from the bear's eye view as it were. Then again, having lived in L.A. myself and suffered through "dating" there, perhaps there is enough brutality of spirit created by that place to comfortably slide into the grizzly mindset without a hitch.

In reality, however, what the observer had noted was that Timothy did not respect the distance all humans should afford nature so that nature does not become tainted by our influence; by our values and - at the worst - bad taste in food (witness the McDonald's-scarfing wildlife of Yellowstone). As Mel said, "My people learn from the spirit of bear, the essence of bear, to act or not act a certain way. We would never be egotistical enough to believe we become one with that animal. That is not the way humans were meant to act."

So there remains a great cultural divide between peoples who have not lost touch with their ancestors' reverence and respect for wild nature; and those trying to gain a foothold into the wild universe, but where the collective memory of boundaries has been lost. Timothy Treadwell had established faux boundaries, but he touched what should not have been, literally.

The paradox, however, lies in the fact that by so doing, he bonded with some of the bears in such a way that he was able to film some of the most incredible footage I have ever seen...and at very close range. And don't get me started on the foxes. But I won't give that part away.

I thought about how his taking his experiences to children changed their view of the bears; and how many of them will probably grow up with a mind to keep Katmai forever wild. One can only hope they do because we are a failed generation in that regard. We have even sought to force nature to be sterilized and packaged for tourist consumption. We turn away from an animal killing its prey, part of its very nature, because it is politically incorrect to witness violence and be fascinated thereby; even where violence is part of that animal's everyday existence.

But unlike Timothy Treadwell, I never turn my back on a wild animal, even on Yasle who "knows" us. Our oldest dog, Gina, is still vulnerable to Yasle and her babies because she is aged; so I always accompany her into the yard, especially at night. The night I saw a full-grown black bear sitting in our orchard eating plums, I slowly backed into the house and hoped she would not try to come through the window in search of more food...boundaries.

Boundaries. Timothy Treadwell knew none, and in that can one find his grace, beauty, and eloquence; but also the roadmap to his ultimate demise. Many felt he had gotten what he had deserved. I would never say that. He lived exactly as he wished, where he wished. And the bears took away his sadness, even briefly, and that was enough for him. The message was powerful. I listened. I hope you will, too.