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In Training: Learning from the Animals

By Simone Lipscomb | February 19, 2013

Two days of passively observing brown pelicans at very close proximity helped me get through Basic Orientation: Animal Life 101.

The conclusions I’ve drawn thus far? Silent observation and attention to detail give the best learning experiences. Staying in beginner’s mind is the clue.

Shoshin is a concept in Zen Buddhism meaning “beginner’s mind”. It refers to having an attitude of openness, eagerness, and lack of preconceptions when studying a subject, even if studying at an advanced level. Learning from animals necessitates using the quality of curious mind. Be quiet and observe.

Two experiences during my first ‘classes’ left me completely baffled. One happened at the end of each day’s observations and with each one, I was confronted with very aggressive energy from males. One was middle school age and the other an adult.

Class One: The pelicans had just settled down to nap and had been sunning after a particularly cold night. I was tucked in a corner of the pier with them, sunning on a bench. A group of four kids walked up and one drew his fishing rod like a sword and started trying to hit the dozing birds. It was calm and peaceful one moment and the next erupted into chaotic, mean-spirited energy.

Class Two: I was sitting with the pelicans in the same place–a corner tucked around from a fish-cleaning station. The birds were active in preening, perching, communicating with each other and yes, some were very interested in what the guy was doing with his dead fish. Suddenly a blast of cold water shot out and around the corner, splashing me and soaking the pelicans. But it didn’t stop. It kept coming and blasting the birds in their faces in their corner. They had little opportunity to leave.

I was just trying to catch a nap and then some human started spraying me with cold water

It stopped so I just let it go. Then it started again and this time after it quit I peeked around the corner and asked the guy to please stop spraying so far around the corner as I was getting wet…but more importantly, my camera was getting wet.

He kept spraying and finally blasted a bird perched on the rail for probably 30 seconds in the face and the bird could do nothing but sit there and take it. I yelled at this point: STOP IT!

He finished cleaning his fish and then came around the corner and cursed me for being on the pier. Told me I had no business taking photographs of the birds. That I had no right to stand up for myself or the birds because they shit all over the deck.

I attempted to explain I paid the fee to walk on the pier like he did…it didn’t matter. I also reminded him that I wasn’t feeding the birds and I had seen him toss fish remnants overboard where pelicans promptly flew for their meal. He blasted me with hate and words as he had done the pelicans with yelling and blasts of water.

ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! I wanted to scream. But finally I just looked at him like he had lost his mind and didn’t say anything. And I continued to breathe and stay as focused as possible.

Today while SUP boarding I thought back to the encounters and pondered the entire lesson the pelicans were teaching me. What I resonated to so perfectly was the simple beauty of every movement, the peaceful quiet of the pelican world. I smiled at their squabbles over gifted fish and enjoyed the soft passes of their wings on my legs or hands as they opened them to fly off or argue over a fish. I haven’t felt that much peace in weeks and it was from letting go of thinking and just being and observing with an open mind.

If I look at the encounters with the two aggressive males from the point of view of a pelican, I notice two things. First, pelicans really don’t take it personally when humans are sometimes mean, abusive, and hateful. Second, they pop their bills a couple times at the offending party and forget about it.

Perhaps I just need to observe behavior that is abusive and angry and mean-spirited and not form judgments. Just notice it and carry on. But it is challenging when it is directed at innocent beings who are doing nothing but showing up for free food. It’s difficult to know how to balance observing passively and taking action.

Spread you wings, let it go — Spread your wings, let it go

How does anger, aggressive behavior and meanness affect me…from the perspective of beginners mind? Really it doesn’t if I don’t take it personally. If I can simply observe and not take that aggression or anger inside of me, it has no affect at all. I can advocate for those who need protection but I don’t have to take the insanity of the offender personally. That would be rather silly.

Perhaps I passed the exam from my first official class. The bonus question? How does a pelican deal with humans who adore them and cherish them? Observe, breathe, go back to preening in the sun.

Attachment to nothing... — Attachment to nothing…

The Healing Power of Beauty

By Simone Lipscomb | February 18, 2013

I spent this chilly Gulf Coast morning and early afternoon at the beach. It was so amazingly beautiful. Clear water, clear skies with only one little issue….41 degrees when I arrived. But who cares?

Clyde Butcher is a sort of hero of mine. He began his photography career in answer to the death of his son. He poured his grief into capturing beautiful images, uniquely produced. His wife was a partner in his efforts and they created a most wondrous legacy of environmental stewardship.

After spending a couple hours walking at a beach in the National Seashore and then a couple hours sunning with friendly pelicans, I realized the best way to move forward in my life is to immerse myself in beauty. I’ve known this but today was an affirmation of this idea that has been brewing since the new year arrived. Clyde and his wife’s work inspires me and encourages me to fully commit to this work I feel called to.

Celebrating life, embracing beauty found in nature….I believe anything could be healed through connecting with wild places and wild creatures. I am so grateful for this reminder.

Fullness of spirit, laughter and the teaching of sunning meditation is what my pelican friends taught me. I semi-dozed and shot photographs of pelicans that were within arms reach. Bliss. Pure and simple….BLISS!

Until the middle school juvenile delinquent picked up his fishing rod and tried to hit the seven or so pelicans surrounding me….I made it clear he was acting inappropriately to him and the guys working on the pier. I found it very difficult to be soft spoken or touchy-feely. Quite honestly, abusing innocent animals pisses me off.

I stomped off the pier mumbling under my breath but it was okay because I needed to eat….but when I got home, eating had to wait until I uploaded the 1400 photos I took today…and by then it was dinner time.

Renewal, refocused intention and sunny energy fill me even with the jerky punk who thinks being cruel to animals is cool. Next time I hope a pelican poops on abusive kids heads. Now that would be something to photograph!

What Would You Do?

By Simone Lipscomb | February 15, 2013

None of us like to think about it but the truth is this: The moment we are born, we begin to die.

Mostly we live our lives without giving ‘it’ much thought. But if we’re faced with the possibility of death, what would we do?

What is important to us? What do we want to do before we leave our body behind and embark on the mysterious journey of whatever comes next? What would be our legacy left behind?

And who would we contact? Who would we reach out to say….I love you?

Such important questions. But facing them isn’t something any of us want to do…not for real anyway.

So what if we chose to face them, without the big “D” facing us but answered as if it was sitting on our shoulder, black hood and sickle at the ready.

My answers, you wonder?

Who is my person? The person knows because I reached out and made contact. It’s not important who it is, but simply that I made contact and shared my feelings.

What I would do? Dive more…spend more time underwater in the place I feel most at home communing with the sea and creatures of the vast ocean.

What else? I would let go of fear and move forward with the strength of a knight to share beauty with the world. I would let go of the grief that has wrapped me like a gray blanket and simply embrace beauty and live within it and express it at every opportunity.

I discovered this week that my greatest fear isn’t death…it is losing beauty. The beauty of our beautiful water planet, of trees, beaches, dolphins, whales, manatees….of clear water, clean air. While the loss and beauty of a lover’s embrace, support and encouragement can be devastating, losing the beauty of nature is ultimately my greatest fear.

Choosing to ask ourselves these questions can free us to live fully and completely and to embrace that which is important to us regardless of the outcome.

Rumi wrote, “Our task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all of the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

Manatee...my heart opens to embrace these darlings — Manatee…my heart opens to embrace these darlings

And Leo Buscaglia said, “Love is always bestowed as a gift freely, willingly and without expectation. We don’t love to be loved. We love to love.”

No matter the destruction wildlife and wild places experience, I choose to love freely–refusing to hold back because I am afraid of them disappearing. No matter that human relationships may not last, I can choose to love because my heart feels love and expect absolutely nothing in return.

It isn’t complicated. It’s quite simple in fact.

I choose love. What will you choose?

Fat Tuesday

By Simone Lipscomb | February 14, 2013

I was standing at Lulu’s Homeport in Gulf Shores, Alabama, listening to a band play a traditional Mardi Gras tune and felt a subtle, inner shift. A small glimmer of something started to awaken within me and it made me smile.

When embarking on a course of action it’s not necessarily easy because you (finally) found your path–your direction. When I answered an inner call to document the Gulf Oil Spill in my home state, I never imagined the emotional wreckage that would occur within me. I remember days before the oil began washing up on the Alabama beaches fervently trying to photograph as much of the Gulf beaches and marshes as possibly and while doing so sobbing, sometimes uncontrollably. Then when it began coming ashore and coating animals, beaches and filling the air with toxic fumes I was in a state of near exhaustion from anger, sadness, grief and the physical challenge of exposure to the toxic soup in the water and air.

It changed me. I remember going back to my mountain home for a few weeks each month and finding it very difficult to connect with anything pleasurable. I was numb from what I was seeing. Traumatized. And in some sort of cosmic disbelief that humans could destroy our planet…not just by an oil spill…but by endless sins committed against this beautiful planet and its inhabitants. Nothing touched me. Beauty was painful to see. Yet I couldn’t look away from the environmental destruction because finally I felt I was doing my legacy work.

Sometimes the cost of that commitment is high.

There was healing during the many weeks spent along the coast. Realizations, moments of inspiration but it was a week spent with Joanna Macy, in a Work That Reconnects workshop that truly helped me understand and process what I had been going through. And healing continues since my move back to the Gulf Coast.

Yes, I enjoy SUP boarding and walking the beaches and diving in the Caribbean. I’m not walking around in a constant state of gloom and doom. Yet finding a space for personal pleasure….just the inkling of fun for no particular reason…has continued to be challenging for me. The burden of our planet’s plight is heavy.

But yesterday, while riding my sea turtle volunteer team’s float in the Gulf Shores Mardi Gras parade and hanging out at Lulu’s with my friend and her family provided a little spark of fun for the sake of fun….with the intention of fun. Imagine that.

Gratitude for a day of fun runs deep within me. It helps to balance the deep grief that fuels my work to share the beauty of our planet…in the hope that people will realize the beauty of Earth and will do everything they can to help heal it. And heal the human relationship to it…and each other.

Communion

By Simone Lipscomb | January 30, 2013

Curious about the SUP board, the juvenile says hello.

It is no secret to anyone who knows me that my best friends are finned or flippered, feathered or furred. My heart is touched by an encounter with wild dolphins or a gentle nuzzle of a manatee in ways that surpass any human connection. Maybe that’s why men I’ve shared my life with have moved on…never content to come second after my love of wild animals. Connection with all creatures wild is my Communion, a way to rise above the mundane and connect deeper, more fully with beings more evolved than humans. (Personal bias).

Today I received an early-morning call from a friend and she tearfully expressed her love of the woods surrounding her home was about to be logged, destroyed so the landowner could purchase a vehicle for his son. How can you put a price like that on a sacred woodland? When will humans learn that the planet is not a commodity to be pillaged, a land to rape for spoils but rather a sacred cathedral?

The mentality of profit at any cost is not a luxury we can afford any longer.

Joanna Macy’s teachings come to mind. She explains the necessary evolution from a life-taking society to a life-sustaining society. We are in a time of moving from a profit-at-any-cost world to a life-sustaining world. We are in the middle of the dissolution of the old way and are awakening to the reality of the mess we’re in economically, socially, environmentally. And within the mess, within the reality of how we have treated the planet and each other, we find positive change occurring. Many, many people are choosing to act from a place of responsibility, a place of compassion and love. We are waking up to the idea that it is possible to live in balance with respect for all life.

Wildlife reminds me of the connection we have to the whole. The manatees scarred by propellers remind me that humans still have a huge impact on fragile species, that we have done great harm to our planet. And when I see volunteers paddling their kayaks, overseeing interactions with these gentle beings and acting as protectors, hope is refueled.

While snorkeling recently, a juvenile manatee came to me and demanded my attention. My goal is passive observation, in or out of the water, but while filming them, one insisted on connecting face-to-face and drew me out from behind the camera. He swam in front of me, stopped and I felt his gentle spirit guiding me to remove the camera from between us and commune, one wild heart to another. I gently placed my hand aside his face and channeled as much love as I could to him and his kind. And I listened in silence to him.

In those moments we were one with each other. There was no me, no him. In that neutral stillness was birthed understanding. Deep, profound understanding.

As we parted, sobs wracked my body and soul for the trust demonstrated by a species so abused and wounded by humans. The future of this planet is in our hands. That is both frightening and empowering. What will we do to create a better world? Will we do anything?

It can start with daily communion with the natural world. Let it show us our next step each day.

He checked out my dry suit, my fins, my snorkel, my camera...always learning more about humans, these little ones. — He checked out my dry suit, my fins, my snorkel, my camera…always learning more about humans, these little ones.