Alabama Coast Archives - Page 7 of 23 -

Running Toward the Light

By Simone Lipscomb | October 15, 2013

When I opened the curtains and door to the porch off my bedroom this morning the light was a soft, deep orange. I peeked out and looked around the corner to the east and the sky was a palette of brilliant color. To add to the dramatic beauty, fog hugged the ground beneath the oak trees.

I hurriedly threw on shorts and a hoodie and sprinted upstairs to get my tripod. I couldn’t find the ‘L’ bracket and hex wrench that attaches it to my camera. Dang it! Where is that thing? I said in a not-so-gentle-voice. I couldn’t find it so I grabbed an attachment for my old tripod and ran downstairs, tripping and nearly falling on the stairs.

My camera was still in the kitchen where I left it last night when I came home from a music event yesterday afternoon so I quickly attached the tripod foot and headed outside, grabbing my old tripod from the garage. As I was walking to the pasture fence I was attempting to extend the legs of the tripod. Of course, the legs wouldn’t extend (the reason I replaced it after a busy summer of salt-water shooting last year that basically ended its life). The sun was rapidly rising and the brilliant blue and orange and yellow hues would be gone within minutes.

Screw it, I mumbled and threw the tripod to the ground, adjusted the camera settings and started shooting. It was frustrating because I love very long exposures in light such as this as it enriches the colors. But this morning, I was doing the best I could given the time constraints and equipment snafus.

Challenges like I experienced at sunrise today are really quite funny. A part of me was calmly watching myself scurrying and hurrying and I knew that all of the effort might be for nothing….I could miss the sweet light. But as beautiful as the sunrise was, I had to make the effort.

Things in life that are beautiful are indeed worth the effort.

Migrating Monarchs Amid a Tropical Storm

By Simone Lipscomb | October 5, 2013

Today as I was driving along the beach highway in Gulf Shores, Alabama my intention was to photograph beautiful cloud formations from Tropical Storm Karen. It was lovely on the beach and the clouds didn’t disappoint but what really caught my attention was the hundreds and hundreds of monarch butterflies moving through our area on their way to wintering grounds in Mexico. I wanted to tell them about the stormy winds that would make their journey more hazardous, more difficult but they fluttered by, determined to make it or die trying.

Dodging them was my priority but it was almost impossible given their erratic flight and the steady wind. I did my best though. The thought of killing one after he or she survived such a long journey was repulsive to me. You guys are so close! Why don’t you find some nice flowers and just hunker down….and stay out of traffic.

Their instinct overrides everything. Even facing strong winds these amazing and seemingly fragile creatures were launching over the Gulf of Mexico as dark clouds hung ominously overhead.

I feel like a wimp compared to monarchs and their drive to move, to fly even amid stormy weather. Of course, they have a goal in sight–a crystal clear path that is hard-wired into their DNA.

What if each of us came into this life with a hard-wired goal or purpose.

What if our purpose is simply to discover our purpose? Perhaps we make it more complicated than it really is. Perhaps our collective purpose is simply to learn to love unconditionally and develop compassion. Like the saying goes…it’s not the destination that matters but the journey.

The monarchs arriving on the coast just prior to a tropical storm has given me much to ponder. May I open my heart to love and compassion without restraint, with wild abandon…and keep flapping my wings even when storms try to turn me back….and that is my wish for you as well.

Blessings, Forgiveness and Endorphins

By Simone Lipscomb | October 2, 2013

The workout pushed me to my limit and somehow I pushed through. As we began our final stretches the instructor reminded us to be mindful of our blessings. With my physical body exhausted and open, her words touched a deep place within and as I settled into this expanded physical experience my heart and mind followed. I felt a rush of gratitude that brought tears of relief, of joy. It wasn’t just the endorphins.

Over the past two nights I have awakened with a similar dream. Both involved a significant person in my life, a person that was a light in my life when I needed it most. And sadly, a person no longer in my life. The dreams showed me that he and I are much alike and without going into details, I found myself lighting a candle this morning with forgiveness for us both.

In this morning’s dream we sat together and I shared my sadness over leaving the beautiful wooded acres at our home in central North Carolina and our home in the mountains. I didn’t realize how much grief I carried over leaving the land there. We sat as friends, in my dream, and shared with each other. Such openness. Such beauty. Such calm acceptance.

Last night, prior to sleeping, I sat on my back porch in the hammock chair for hours just listening to the night sounds. Watching stars twinkle through oak leaves, allowing the drone of insects to put me in a sort of trance, listening to scurrying creatures in the courtyard…opening myself to the Earth and the Sky….feeling myself as part of this amazing Universe. Breathing in the energies shared by the grandmother oak tree that spreads her massive arms protectively over my home, acknowledging with gratitude the gift of life…I rested and floated in my swing.

It’s been over a year and a half since I moved back to the Gulf Coast and I love it. But I hadn’t allowed myself to touch the grief of leaving the mountains, a place I had dreamed of living my entire life. In a sorting, clearing and organizing push during the past week, I pulled out a painting I created that depicts the view from my loft office in my mountain home. I had it stored until yesterday when I hung it in my office here. I am strong enough now to feel the grief of leaving the mountain and Etta’s beautiful acreage in central North Carolina and accept the nurturance freely given by the land in both of those places and here, under massive live oaks, near a slow-moving river.

The Earth Mother nurtures us at every stop we make in our lives. It is my hope that I can remain open to receive and with a joyful heart give back to that which sustains me. Grounded in forgiveness for all my mistakes and the mistakes of others I can state truthfully and freely, I feel blessed. And that’s not the endorphins talking.

A shout-out to Pure Barre Eastern Shore instructors. THANK YOU for everything you do for us! I am so grateful for you all!

Wildlife….Two Sides of a Story

By Simone Lipscomb | September 14, 2013

Photo taken by Laguna Key Team member today of raided and consumed soon-to-be hatchlings

Today I received a text from my friend and sea turtle team leader than one of our nests had been raided and consumed by a fox. 105 eggs of nearly hatched loggerhead sea turtles became the meal of one of our beach foxes.

Sadness enveloped me. Not just for this precious, threatened species of ocean-living reptiles but for the skinny, malnourished red foxes who eek out a living in the dunes of the beaches. We have had problems with foxes this year. They have approached us very closely as we sit near the nests at night.

One night I was sitting at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico, avoiding the interaction and chatting among visitors at the nest. I wanted to connect with the tranquility of the evening. I felt something close-by and turned around to see a fox curled up maybe ten feet from me. I suspect humans have been feeding them and she was awaiting a morsel, a tid-bit of something to help stop her hunger.

So now, tourist season is over and easy handouts are no longer coming from well-meaning guests of our beaches. Even the garbage that might have fed them has all but disappeared. So what is left are hungry foxes.

These foxes are so skinny they look like slim cylinders of red fur with four stick legs. The extra food sources during our busy season causes them to have more babies; however, when the food source is gone, starving foxes will go to great lengths to obtain nourishment.

Our sea turtle nests have predator grates staked on them but let’s face it, if you or I were hungry we would work hard for food and persist in obtaining it.

I can’t be angry at the foxes or vilify them. They are wild animals trying their best to survive. I know there are lessons for us in this tale but it doesn’t take away the feeling of loss, of sadness.

Part of our team after processing a newly-laid nest earlier this summer.

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Infinite

By Simone Lipscomb | August 28, 2013

Nest sitting for sea turtles has the reward of helping insure baby loggerheads find their way safely to the Gulf of Mexico. But there are other reasons I volunteer for this work of love. This evening reminded me of the value of spending time outdoors, not for the hoped-for end outcome but for everything else that happens.

Six p.m. to nine p.m. was my shift. It was still sunny and bright when I arrived at the nest but the air was dryer than usual and the sky was clear…an oddity this summer after forty-something days of rain. I set up my beach chair and reclined so I could gaze into the cerulean sky.

Within minutes I relaxed and felt myself unwinding. Tension drained away as the waves gently sloshed onshore. Gulls flew west to their roosting place for the evening. The space of quiet in nature was mirrored within me. Everything within became incredibly still. I didn’t sleep but simply found myself in a place of perfect peace.

As the light gradually faded tiny stars began to emerge from the darkening sky. That time of transition from day to night is most magical, most powerful. As other team members gathered I moved to sit on the sand at the water’s edge so I could experience just a little more time of inner quiet and stillness.

I felt clean on the inside….really clear and clean. Open, expansive and yes, even infinite like the night sky. The fuzzy part of the Milky Way was easily seen in the distance in the open sky over the Gulf and I pondered the immensity of it all but mostly I just sat and looked at the now-black sky sprinkled with shimmering stars…..and the night-black ocean.

The best word I know to describe the evening is infinite. I’m learning to appreciate stillness and silence and I’m learning to be receptive to the bounty of blessings that are waiting to fill me and my life….and yours, too…wherever you are and whatever is in your sky this night. May it bring the experience of the Infinite.