Category: Environment

Passion to Proceed

Passion to Proceed

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I am sitting at the counter at my mom’s kitchen gazing out at Mobile Bay. Just a pause before writing.

I’m presenting a program at Gulf Shores Library tomorrow morning and was reviewing my A/V presentations to see which one I’ll use. In reviewing my library of programs one I put together showing the worst part of the oil spill at the Gulf Shores, Alabama area caught my attention. Tears poured down my face as I watched and recalled vividly the heartbreak experienced by so many of us that love this area. And then I felt a surge of passion and love for the Gulf Coast that caused a transcendent moment to spontaneously occur within me. It provided an amazing moment of clarity that sealed the deal, so to speak, for my move back to the Gulf Coast.

Over a decade ago I felt called to return to the Gulf Coast to work but as I stood on the shore with warm, salty waters lapping over my toes, I heard in my mind…’Not yet…but you will know when to return.’

When the oil spill first happened and very often for 18 months, I made the trip from Asheville, NC to coastal Alabama to document…to WITNESS what what happening here. I felt the call to return but I didn’t expect to move back. Little-by-little, however, I felt that this was the big leap needed to fulfill a promise I made to the Gulf those many years ago.

A few months ago I put my mountain home ‘on the market’ and waited. Within these past two weeks everything has begun to come together. Two incredible people have connected with “The Cathedral of Trees” and immediately understood the power of the home and land I have been blessed to call home for over five years. They decided to become the new owners of this special place. And just yesterday, I finalized a contract on a nice cottage home near the Magnolia River that will nurture me and my work as I leap back to the headwaters of my life. The place of my birth.

With every major change in life there comes anxiety and fear and those emotions were doing their best to rattle me. But when I reconnected with the immense love and passion I have for the earth, specifically this area of amazing beauty…my coastal Alabama home…all doubt was erased and the anxiety and fear begin to diminish.

I have dedicated my life to help our beautiful water planet. How thrilled I am to feel doors opening so that I can continue my work here, in this sacred place. There’s a song that has been my theme for this next stage of my life as it unfolds…Homeward Bound….”Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.” My heart is very, very full and I am so grateful.

One Simple Thing

One Simple Thing

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Yesterday as I was driving through the mountains of North Georgia I had a thought–what if a large group of people all over the planet decided to change the world for the better by adding 5 minutes a day of stillness to their daily routine?

I had been considering the degradation of the environment, the constant bickering in politically polarized rhetoric and my general belief that humans are self-destructive. Where else could negative behavior and negative, violent thought processes and dogmatic belief systems lead but to self-destruction? So I had this incredibly simple idea.

Perhaps skeptics might suggest that this sort of action would be wasted. But I was thinking about how millions of people are creating change through social media and the connection we have instantly to the global human population. Why couldn’t we decide to dedicate 5 minutes a day to stillness and silence? It couldn’t hurt anything and it quite possibly could make a positive difference.

In June of 1999 a peer-reviewed study was carried out in Washington, D.C. Over 4000 practitioners of meditation were housed in various locations within the DC area from June 7th through July 30th. Each day they practiced slowing their mental activity and coming to a place of inner stillness. This created within the meditators a sense of balance, order, and harmony. During this time violent crime (assaults, murders, rapes) decreased 23% in the area in which they were practicing. There was less than a 2 in 1 billion chance that other explanations (weather, increased police patrols, daylight, historical crime trends and annual violence patterns) accounted for the difference, according to John Hagelin, lead author of the study from the Institute of Science, Technology and Public Policy.

How is this possible? Through the past 25 years, researchers have conducted more than 42 studies that have verified the field effect of consciousness. Advanced understanding of physics shows that subtle energy fields are a basis of everything around us. Conclusion drawn by researchers? Human consciousness also has field characteristics at fundamental levels. The meaning? What we experience, think, feel, do affects everything around us.

When we think we are powerless to the insanity unfolding daily, it’s good to remember we actually can make a difference. Not by arguing a point, ranting on Facebook, name-calling people who hold different views….simply by coming to stillness, by allowing a time each day where we free ourselves from judgment, anger, politics, arguing…we can make a difference.

What if people from all over the planet decided to stop and drop into stillness? What if we dropped all words for 5 minutes a day and sat and allowed ourselves to be still and breathe? What if we stop the mental chatter, the mind games, and let go of our own opinion for 5 minutes a day?

I believe this one simple thing could change the world. What about you?

In Ways I Can’t Explain*

In Ways I Can’t Explain*

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A few years ago I stood on this hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and felt my bones vibrate with resonance of the land. For the first time in my life, I felt I belonged in a way I’ve never belonged to any other place on the planet. I was in Devon, England.

Later that week, a beautiful elder of the area told me the Lipscomb’s (Lypscombe) were from Devon. When I returned home I looked up a family history cousins had compiled and found that Ambrose Lypscombe was from the Devonshire line and lived in Silverton, England. He was born in 1610. His son, Ambrose I, arrived in Virginia around 1668 (called New Kent County). And the lineage progressed forward through the years as my ancestors found their way to the Alabama coast.

As I prepare to move away from the mountain that overlooks this beautiful valley, I have reconnected with my intense love of the land here. As I was approaching this area on my morning walk a few days ago, a new song I had downloaded started playing on my iPhone and suddenly everything made sense. David Wilcox sings about wanting to go to Ireland and his lyric made me stop and breathe in the significance, *”My heart is here in ways I can’t explain.”

I have pondered the deep connection I have to the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Alabama Coast. I love both places dearly and completely. I feel torn with my love of the sea and my love of the mountains.

When I thought back to my visit to Devon and Cornwall I realized that the ancestral link I have to the coast of western England is strong in my blood, in my DNA. The seashore of Alabama I love so well and the mountains of North Carolina are two similar aspects of a very significant place where my dad’s family originated. With the Wilcox song, everything clicked and I had a rather large ah-ha moment.

Understanding a bit more of my heritage gives me insight into my path now, specifically about the move south. I spent my entire childhood, teenage and young adult years wanting to get ‘back’ to the mountains. After finally moving ‘back’ I met people that provided assistance as I developed important tools for my life’s work. It was as if we arranged, before birth, to meet up on this mountain and catalyze ideas and skills. And now, I am better prepared to move forward with contributions I came to make.

The chances of me moving to England to live are rather slim; however, the inspiration it provides and the fire of love for the sea and mountains create within me the devotion necessary to commit fully to this Path I have chosen to walk.

We all make choices about how to invest our energy and talents. As I move forward in this life’s journey, my intention is to utilize the skills I have to help create positive change for life on this beautiful, water planet. I embrace the gifts the mountains and friends here have supported and helped cultivate within me and with gratitude take the leap back to the sea. I allow the ocean of life to carry me.

Lyrics from David Wilcox Ireland and Let the Wave Say:

I’ll speak the words of poets gone: my music’s ancestry
We’ll hear the voice of Ireland in the wind beside the sea
In waves of music far as I can see
The voice of every poet singing free:
Singing bring your orphan children home–to me
(from Ireland)

And the high blue wall can break you
You can never fight the sea
You just learn to let it take you
To the place you want to be (from Let the Wave Say)

I am ready to ride the wave back home. (Thanks David for the music…and wisdom!)

Parting the Veil–Thoughts from New Year’s Eve

Parting the Veil–Thoughts from New Year’s Eve

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As I paddled through thick, gray-white mist across the mouth of Weeks Bay, the silence was broken by a loon that surfaced nearby. The haunting cry bounced off the wall of fog and wrapped around me like a voice from another realm.

I felt peaceful and quiet, encapsulated by a small radius of open water as I glided through the new year’s eve morning. No sun, no warmth, the only comfort was the shroud of containment hugging me, coating my eyelashes with tiny water droplets.

Up the west side of the bay I traveled–the mostly undeveloped side where natural marsh grasses grow in sandy soil right to the water’s edge. No bulkheads disturbing the natural flow of the tides, wildlife or sand migration. Every paddle stroke yielded sounds magnified by the dense fog….droplets of water sliding off the blade, returning with a plop into the bay from which they came; the wake of water curling off the bow of my board; my own breath, warm against the air as I pulled myself and the twelve and a half foot board through the brackish life-blood of the estuary.

Further along, the mist parted so I could see the other shore, less than two miles away. I decided to paddle across, thus making a loop on my last paddle of 2011. I glanced back over my shoulder as I reached the middle of the bay. The fog was closing in behind me rapidly. The scene reminded me of the Mists of Avalon, a favorite book of mine from many years ago.

Parting the veil is a quest worthy of any seeker.

The rolling wall of fog pushed me forward. Access to what was behind me faded as if it never existed. It wouldn’t be wise to go back, to enter a white-out and get lost. The past is done…over….gone.

I hugged the shoreline as the fog intensified and made my way back to Mobile Bay. I didn’t want to spend new year’s eve paddling in circles in the bay so I kept the shore within sight. Years ago I was paddling my kayak in a large, fogged-in lake and lost my way by failing to follow the shoreline (and not having a compass on board). I nearly paddled over a dam (or close enough to make my legs shaky). Reflecting back, I saw where I have managed to learn a lesson or two that has gotten me safely through almost of all of 2011 and the years in-between.

Past skeleton piers and roosting shorebirds I glided. Slowly I maneuvered over pieces of broken piers, buried in the shallow water. I was in no hurry to reach my destination given the lack of visibility and snags floating just below the surface. Plus, I was enjoying the beautiful white cloud I was moving through and was not eager to step out of the other-worldly realm created by the bay, water and fog.

The solitude was a gift bestowed by the fog as it kissed my cheeks and swirled around me as I remembered the secret to parting the veil.

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Polar Bear Paddle 2012–Magnolia River was a great time! Even with our small crew we had a blast exploring far up into the river in the warmish temps…and one of our crew decided to take a plunge as well but she lives in Michigan now so a little winter river water did her no harm. Happy 2012!

Wisdom of the Wild

Wisdom of the Wild

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My first morning back on the Gulf Coast found me paddling my SUP board from Mobile Bay into Weeks Bay. Since it was a chilly 51 degrees, there was nobody else on the water in boats or other watercraft. It was just the bay, the sky, multitudes of shorebirds and me.

As I paddled through the mouth of Weeks Bay I saw cormorants and pelicans along with wintering ducks and gulls flying, floating and feasting in the brackish water. Moving further into the bay I noticed something floating ahead. It looked like a pelican but it wasn’t moving. The closer I got to it the more concern grew within me. It looked like the large bird was entangled in debris. When I slowly and quietly glided up to the bird I saw with horror and sadness the situation.

What I thought was debris was actually one of its huge wings trailing behind it as this regal bird’s long bill hung in the water. Her wing was completely broken in two and the large bone protruded from feathers and skin.

As I glided up to the bird I sat down and eased closer allowing her to understand I was not there to hurt her. Being on a paddle board I had nothing with which to perform a rescue operation. Plus, did the bird want rescuing? The stress would most likely kill the beautiful creature given her weakened state. Not knowing what to do, I simply drifted with her and asked what she needed.

As we drifted together on the surface of the bay I gently spoke to her while asking for guidance from any angels that might be about. I decided to steer her to the sandy beach to see if she could exit the water. I knew this would be the only place I could attempt to capture her, if that was the right action for me to take.

Slowly we drifted to the remote shore. When we arrived, the pelican walked out of the water and stood, barely able to support her weight. I beached my board and continued sitting on it and asking what to do. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”

With great effort this magnificent bird crawled to a small bunch of marsh grass and laid down. When she got settled she breathed deeply a few times and her body relaxed. I went to a deep place within and knew that the only action called for was to allow her to die in the sunshine among the grasses and sounds of life on Weeks Bay. Any attempt at rescue would kill her at this point. She would be better served by allowing a quiet passage rather than a traumatic one.

So I sat on my board weeping quietly, asking for angels to carry her across the rainbow bridge. After her breathing slowed I gently pushed off from shore and gave thanks to her for being a teacher for me.

Sometimes the best action is to take no action.

The next morning I paddled back into the bay. As I paddled along the shore I saw her, white head laid across her brownish-gray back. I envisioned her last breath with long bill pointed skyward as she gazed into the sky from which she had fallen.