Adventure Archives - Page 3 of 3 -

No Ego Needed

By Simone Lipscomb | January 12, 2014

*Pam Wooten, Jill Heinerth, Simone Lipscomb. Photo by Rick Crawford*.

The weekend before the New Year found me in Cave Country–North Florida–once again. I was drawn there to take a course in side mount, or so I thought. It wasn’t until after the trip was over and I was home that I realized the deeper reason I made the trip.

My friend Pam and I decided to take the class with Jill Heinerth. Pam knew Jill but I simply followed the recommendation of another friend and cave instructor. I won’t go into the details of the course because that’s not my focus. But I would like to share about the women that were present that weekend.

Exif_JPEG_PICTURE — *Connie LoRe, a role model for me in cave diving. She has led trips to the beautiful caves of Akumal, Mexico for many years. Photo by Ed Jackson.*

Cave diving has progressed from a male-dominated sport to one in which women are routinely participating, instructing and exploring. I thought it was rather awesome to be in a cave course taught by a woman with a female classmate who excels in the field of dive instruction. One of Jill’s friend’s was teaching a cavern course. Renee was another outstanding woman. As we were figuring out our new gear yet another amazing woman showed up to dive. Barbara am Ende, cave explorer and writer, came over and started chatting. I was a bit distracted with all the learning to realize the powerhouse of women standing around us.

Our first day ended with a dive in the Ginnie Bowl and Ballroom. Renee accompanied us. I’m not sure if it was because Pam and I were giving Jill more challenge than she bargained for and she was about to pull her hair out in frustration or if Renee just wanted to come along for the fun. Regardless, it was a very nice dive once we got our gear situated. We played around for over 30 minutes in the cavern and it was quite lovely surfacing after dark to a beautiful sky and clear water surrounded by cypress trees. After we finished Jill left to join her husband for dinner while Pam, Renee and I chatted. I felt an immediate kinship with Renee as we shared about our experience instructing scuba with wounded soldiers. Exhaustion finally overcame me and I headed for a hot shower and food.

At lunch Jill was telling Pam and I about an expedition Barbara had been on and mentioned something about a book. I emailed a note to myself to read the book…Beyond the Deep.

Barbara am Ende. Photo by Mark Long — *Barbara am Ende. Photo by Mark Lon*g

The following day of class I got to chat a bit with Barbara. She was super-nice and was interested in my photography of the trees, water and light. She shared her card so we could keep in touch but we didn’t have a chance to really visit too much. And for some reason I didn’t associate her with the expedition and book Jill had referenced.

I had to end the diving a bit early due to a cold virus that had been challenging me during the course and the dives. I had no energy and had to focus really hard just to stay present so perhaps that’s why I ‘missed’ the profound women gathered together. Or maybe it was because there was no ego, no chest-beating, no race to see how far or how deep cave penetration was that day. It was friendly, supportive sharing and everyone was equally bringing her best self forward.

Once I got home and was recuperating on my sofa, I watched Jill’s video. We Are Water is a beautiful story of water and the importance of it to us but more than that, it is the story of Jill’s passion and love for the planet. And that resonated deeply with me. Her words echoed my own as she described entering the caves as a spiritual experience; a kindred soul indeed. I’m not an explorer into the deeps of caves or icebergs but I am an explorer of our relationship to nature. I see that in Jill as well.

After the movie, I wanted something else to help me make the best use of my down-time so I downloaded Barbara’s book to my iPad. As I started reading I thought, Oh, my goodness! This is the woman I met? The expedition to the cave in Mexico in which Barbara participated was intense. Over a ton of gear was transported by a system of belays to sumps far below the surface. I couldn’t put the book down and so stayed up late reading in awe of such an amazing journey. It was a powerful venture into the unknown.

I emailed and chatted with my friend Pam after the trip and shared with her my disbelief that such powerful women came together that weekend. It wasn’t planned. The timing of meeting Renee and Barbara was truly profound. I think this is so because there was such friendliness and approachability with everyone present.

It wasn’t just Jill and Barbara that brought tremendous strengths and gifts to those picnic tables at Ginnie Springs. Each one of us has an authentic way of interacting with the world and we each have something beautiful to offer the world. But so does every woman…every person.

*Pam Wooten, PADI Course Director. Photo by Simone Lipscomb*

The weekend was made especially meaningful as Pam and I shared about our lives…openly, honestly. What a gift to experience the deepening of friendship.

*Simone cave diving in Mexico. Photo by Ed Jackson*

Terry Tempest Williams said that if a woman ever honestly wrote about and shared her life story, the world would split open and be forever changed. As I reflect back to that weekend, gratitude overflows as I treasure the gift of wisdom each one shared. Perhaps the biggest gift I received was the assurance that wisdom comes with gentleness, straightforwardness, honesty, play, self-awareness in a space where no ego is needed.

A Scuba Sort of Day

By Simone Lipscomb | November 8, 2013

Former students.... — *Former students….*

I’m not sure what the stars are doing or what planets are aligned where but today has been a day of scuba decisions. Seemingly from out of the blue I decided to take a side mount class for cave diving and go back to active status as an open water scuba instructor.

One of the beautiful underwater caves in Akumal, Mexico

It’s not that I haven’t been thinking of switching to side mount configuration. Being in an underwater cave is amazing and probably the most spiritually uplifting thing I’ve ever done. All underwater caves are amazing but the caves of Akumal, Mexico are like nothing else. Period. I’ve written about my experiences in my first book, Sharks On My Fin Tips: A Wild Woman’s Adventures With Nature, so I won’t go into all the details. I’ll just say this…imagine the most beautiful cathedral formed from earth and then place it in crystal-clear water so you can explore it while floating weightless. I might describe the experience, these places, as heaven on earth.

So I’ve missed visiting these cathedrals. I’ve missed swimming in the lifeblood of the planet, into her womb. So why did I quit?

*The gear necessary to cave dive using back mount tanks.*

Over ten years ago I was riding on the back of a motorcycle…one of those fancy Ground Pounder’s–and the operator of the bike hit a pot hole going about 70 mph. A compression fracture resulted and left me with a couple of very small pieces of L-5 vertebra that float around and get irritated. Anything that compresses them causes intense pain. I’ve super-strengthened my core with Pure Barre and Stand Up Paddleboarding but even with those workouts I have to use care that I don’t compress those dastardly bits of bone. Considering that my double steel tanks and manifold weigh in at about 75 to 80 pounds I’m to the point where I either switch to side mount or forget visiting these beautiful caves.

Carrying all that weight from the parking lot at Little River Park to the cave entrance...NOT fun! Photo by Sharon Matteson. — *Carrying all that weight from the parking lot at Little River Park to the cave entrance…NOT fun! Photo by Sharon Matteson.*

Being an open water scuba instructor was very enjoyable (most of the time) but I was to a point where I wasn’t teaching enough to pay for my dues and liability insurance from teaching so it was just a drain of money to hold an instructor card. But I missed working with wounded soldiers and helping them learn to dive. And even though it is volunteering with a lot more expenses going out than will come in, I decided to go back into active teaching status so I can continue my volunteer work.

I’m in contact with my certification agency and have already done the updates necessary to become active again and I’m in contact with a new cave instructor in Florida. What was going on today? Why was this the day to get moving on these underwater ventures? I have a very strong suspicion that the two are related. Perhaps side mount will help disabled divers and give them easier ways to dive. Perhaps I’ll be able to utilize my skills to help others. My goal in life is to make a positive difference.

Some of the soldiers I've had the honor to work with. — *Some of the soldiers I’ve had the honor to work with.*

But one thing is for sure…when something I’ve been thinking about for a while finally comes up and forces my hand, so to speak, it’s my soul calling me to move forward. Oddly enough, that’s how I took my first scuba class. And that led to all sorts of wonderful experiences and friends. This is soul stuff..this is good stuff. And I am ready!

My cave diving instructor...Van Fleming. — *My first cave diving instructor…Van Fleming.*

Making a Difference

By Simone Lipscomb | October 20, 2013

Several weeks ago I met my friend in the Smoky Mountains for an afternoon photography shoot. As we drove through Cades Cove we caught up with each other and shared a bit about our lives. We are both committed to our paths and want to make a difference in the world and shared our frustration at not really knowing how to do that or if what we are doing is really positively impacting the world.

A friend in Japan has been exploring how she wants to work to help make the world a better place and is frustrated as to how she can do this. She has volunteered in an elephant sanctuary and in the past has worked with marine mammal rescue but she, like others I know, wants to make a difference every day.

Over the past couple of days another friend and I have been in contact about the desire to make a difference in the world. It feels like the HID light was just turned on deep in an underwater cave. His clarity encouraged me.

A funk, for lack of a better word, has been dominating my life for the past several months. I am not sure of the origin of this downward turn. There is so much negative everything happening and the environmental issues coupled with atrocities humans perpetuate on each other have made it difficult to know what to do. After working with vigor and with passion documenting the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill and before that, in creating books of beauty and inspiration, all with the goal of making a difference, I find hundreds of books in boxes in my home…their message of beauty and hope sitting tucked away from the world. A perfect metaphor of how I feel. Despondency and feeling a loss as to what I’m really supposed to be doing with my life has been the question that occupies my mind.

The heart-friend I recently wrote of retired from over thirty years of service to his community. He was a leader as a firefighter and trained in many disciplines so he could be excellent in his work. Rookies and seasoned firefighters alike looked up to him and his valuable skills. His career of rescue work is truly inspiring. Upon retirement he wasn’t doing what he wanted to do…making a difference. It was a terrible adjustment for him as his heart is huge and his intention of service matches the size of his heart. It wasn’t until he followed his path to serve in a war-torn country that he once-again fulfilled, in his mind, his goal. He has found what he was looking for–making a difference.

We follow little breadcrumb thoughts which lead us to decisions. We act on these decisions and make changes in our lives–some are huge, some are small. We direct our energy toward the slow-growing momentum and then hope for the best. But how do we know our efforts really are making a difference? How do we maintain trust in ourselves and in our decisions? Here’s a cave-diving analogy.

Photo by Ed Jackson of me and my buddy Ray and his light in the distance

When cave diving a diver knows that caves are dark. It seems a silly statement but I cannot count the number of times I’ve been asked the question: Are underwater caves really dark? Think of the darkest, inkiest, blackest darkness and then think of it as flowing and moving around you. Yes…underwater caves are dark. So a diver takes redundant equipment into a cave–air and light. Three lights are required equipment–a primary light and two back-up lights. The primary is a very bright, strong light and the back-up lights are smaller and always contain fresh batteries.

So if I’m diving in a cave and for some reason my primary light fails, out comes a back-up light. If that fails, out comes the other back-up light. If we apply the analogy of cave diving to our lives, think of our life’s path as the primary light. We are born, we develop and learn and find our way to our path. A natural light is emitted from it as we progress. But there comes a time when we lose faith in our path, we find ourselves far from those we love, and who love us, we retire, or move to a new area, and that light wavers and then blinks out. We are left in the dark.

It’s not a happy place, this darkness. It’s difficult to orient ourselves, find our way. Which way do we go? Where is the line? Which tunnel is the way home?

When this happens we can contact a friend, one of our back-up lights, to help light our way. Sometimes the path we tread must have light from another source. When our own light seems dim, there are others who can help us see the path we have chosen. Their light can help us stay true and move forward when we have lost faith in what we do. We may come to a side tunnel in our underwater cave and the extra light may be necessary to see which way leads us home.

Some may think the primary light in cave diving is the most important but ask any cave diver who has had to deploy a back-up light or two. Those little lights are the real life-savers.

I am grateful for my heart-friend that reminded me to keep working on my path of service. His light encouraged me to stay with it, even when it feels like I am not making a difference. Sometimes I stumble along in darkness and then a ray of light comes forward to illuminate the way.

May we all be lights unto each other.

Thanks for reading. Please comment or share as you see fit.

Pigs are Not Domesticated and May Bite

By Simone Lipscomb | September 5, 2013

There is a certain place on the highway toward the mountains where the forest opens up and there are the beloved mountains! It always makes me smile in my heart. Today was no different.

I haven’t visited the Smoky Mountains in a while due to the move last year and the process of getting settled. But a few weeks ago they were calling me and so I decided to visit after summer crowds were gone and before the masses of tourists in October–the busiest month of the year there.

It’s really a visit home for me. As a kid I loved these mountains with a deep, heart-felt joy. That hasn’t changed. I always feel ‘right’ here…in balance, at peace. Anchored in my skin. I feel that way on the Alabama Coast as well….but they are distinctly different ecosystems. And the mountains are not nearly as developed as the coast…which is almost totally developed, almost totally choked with houses, condos, restaurants….and on and on.

Like all wild areas, the Smoky Mountains speak to a part of me that is still wild and undomesticated. The wild woman within who likes to feel the squishy mud between her toes, warm sand underfoot, gaze out over a vast horizon at the edge of the sea and stand on mountaintops and feel the immenseness of space.

Today, while visiting the mountain farm near Cherokee, NC in the Smoky Mountain National Park, I saw a sign attached to the pig pen: “Pigs are not domesticated and may bite.” I thought of my wild woman self and realized she has that same potential. Don’t try to pen me up as I will bite…no ‘may’ about it.

I began to ponder the idea of domestication and immediately thought of computers and email and social media. While all can be useful tools, they can also be thieves that steal our wildness and keep us chained to a plastic box that squawks at us when someone is trying to contact us.

Sometimes we need to unplug and attune ourselves once again to the rhythms of nature…that magical, mystical web of life from which our physical bodies arise. It is home to us…it helps us reconnect with that from which we came.

I didn’t know what the day would bring as I motored closer to the most amazing biosphere of the Smokies. As I crested a ridge near Franklin, NC the fog–that living, breathing beast of white mist–rolled over the mountain to kiss my cheeks with moisture. Welcome home, daughter. Come play in the wildness. Come feel your Mother nurture you. Rest…explore…absorb the limitless beauty.

For the next few days, I am not domesticated and I will bite….but only if someone tries to put me in a pen.

It’s time to fly!

Adventure

By Simone Lipscomb | August 20, 2013

I just finished watching a series called, Long Way Down, about two guys that ride motorcycles from Scotland to Cape Town, South Africa. They go through several African countries and I must say, it touched me deeply.

I don’t really understand it. I don’t ride motorcycles even though I gave it my best attempt several years ago. But there was something about the sense of adventure and going new places and meeting strangers that became friends…and the animals! And landscape!

I think it’s time for another trip. Probably won’t be Africa but who knows? I long for somewhere beautiful, new and different…a true adventure. Something that will push me out of my comfort zone and take me to a place of wonder and natural beauty.

So I’m contemplating new vistas and places that are calling to my soul…and my camera. I wonder…where will it be?