Nature Photography Archives

Reflections

By Simone Lipscomb | January 16, 2015

I sit drinking hot tea while listening to bowhead whale song. It touches that place in me where wildness resides, where instinctual wisdom is present. Deep, deep in the inner waters that remain still, untouched by external chaos, global destruction, and consistent attempts by humanoids to pave over anything if it creates profit, I find peace.

This week has been profoundly healing, immensely wonderful. It has been a time of coming home to myself and refocusing my life’s work. And it all came about because I followed my intuition and opened my heart to doors that are open and waiting for me to walk through.

The 30A Songwriters Festival in Santa Rosa Beach gave me a nudge to make my yearly pilgrimage to visit manatees in south central Florida. Since I’d already be two hours in that direction I decided to go. But this time rather than arrange everything in advance, I allowed the entire trip to be fluid.

In the interim of trip planning and the festival, our area of Magnolia River had a manatee rescue by Sea World so I decided to ask Sea World if I could visit our gal while she is in rehab. Wouldn’t it be neat to see her and be able to report back to our community?

All plans remained open. I hadn’t received a response from Sea World but decided to leave a day early anyway and simply head south. When I weighed the two departure dates it was obvious which day would be best. And it made all the difference.

As I neared Crystal River a huge rainbow appeared. The arch was steep, a circle of rainbow light over my left shoulder. I stopped at a traffic signal and glanced at the name of the street: Follow Your Dream Parkway. At that point I knew the trip took a deep dive to other levels of experience–the realm where spirit resides.

I signed up for the early boat trip on the way down and was one of only four people on the trip. A true rarity in Crystal River during peak manatee season. Also on the trip was a marine biologist from Australia. As we talked it felt as if we knew each other and were picking up where we left off at some other time and place. He is pursuing a PhD in Marine Education so our conversation was immediately on track to expanding ideas and sharing concern and grief over the status of our Ocean.

While the water was murky when we arrived at the site, it was for a good reason. Manatees were so thick in Three Sister’s Springs I refused to enter. They were stacked on top of each other sleeping. It’s illegal to swim over a sleeping manatee so the only option was to quietly exit without entering the main area of the springs. Well…my only option. It’s more important to allow them rest and quiet than for me to get a photograph. When I enter their realm it is with a sense of respect and awe….reverence. Their world is a cathedral, a holy place. I listen to their whistles and squeaks as holy choruses that strike deep chords of harmony within my soul.

The following day Rich, the marine biologist, and his wife Deb and their beautiful two year old daughter and I hired a guide in Homosassa to take us out on the water. While the water is greener there, the experience of absolute quiet with no other humans in the area was amazing. We all share a deep respect for wild animals and simply laid still in the water, away from each other, and allowed any curious animal a safe, respectful encounter with us.

Immediately after entering the water I had a large animal swim under me and start rolling around on the bottom. With each roll he would stop and glance at me and pause while I took video and still photographs. I could feel ripples of love and light flowing out from my heart as I remained motionless, an observer in awe.

Two juveniles played around me, coming to my camera housing and butting noses on it. They would get hungry or miss mama and would squeak and swim off to find her. I remained floating where I was and in a few minutes they would return. With the limited visibility, it was as if a phantom gradually appeared from the green depths and slowly changed from verdant algae tint to gray as it approached.

After a couple hours of floating and relaxing in the watery bliss, I grew cold. As I was thinking of heading back to the boat a very large mother manatee swam up behind me and rested her head on my left shoulder. Behind her, a juvenile rested her head on mama’s back. I glanced back and couldn’t believe the image I saw. Tears of wonder and joy flow even now as I reflect on this encounter. In stillness I laid on the water’s surface and marveled at the love I felt, prompted by this rare encounter…one of the most sacred moments in my life.

On this trip I experienced large manatees swimming up to me and laying beside me, snuggling for lack of a better word. We floated side-by-side in stillness. I dared not move as I didn’t want to kick or in any way disturb them. So in stillness, in depths of silence, I was one with animals that weighed 1000 pounds more than me. There was no separation of spirit, of love. They taught me to go deeper, deeper into myself to find that place of stillness and quiet where perfect peace abides.

I struggle about writing and sharing these experiences as I don’t want to suggest that everyone has experiences such as this. I don’t want to create even more masses of humanity descending upon these endangered animals. But for those who are quiet and still and are passive observers of these magnificent animals…they can change your consciousness, alter your perception, bring out the best that resides within you. But it only comes on their terms. You must act as a manatee….move slowly, float calmly…observe life gently…open your heart.

Rich and I were discussing manatee behaviors after our trip to Homosassa. He mentioned that as soon as he wanted to ‘manipulate’ the encounter…by wanting the light to be this way or the animal to be in a certain place….the animals that had been with him left. He didn’t move but his thoughts changed. Surrender to the encounter, let go of what ‘you’ want and magic happens. Very keen observation on his part. And how true for life.

Since we cannot stay underwater forever, the real benefit of experiences such as these is how they create lasting change within us. After years of observing people observing manatees I am more convinced than ever before that these animals are incredibly sensitive to not only human behavior, but human thoughts and emotions as well.

Yesterday I observed two permitted photographers — #1 and #12 (professional photographers apply for a permit through USFW) harass a mother and juvenile in the springs. The mother moved three times to try and find a place to sleep and rest with her calf and the photographers followed and continued their pushy behaviors. They may have images of manatees but they will never understand the spirit of these beautiful animals, never grasp their own arrogant and aggressive behaviors as being the exact opposite of how these creatures live and move and have their being in the water.

Photograph by Richard Wylie...THANK YOU!! — *Photograph of me with a juvenile manatee…. by Richard Wylie…THANK YOU!!*

I take away from these days with manatees a simple yet profound realization: Open heart, open doors. As I keep my heart open, the open doors will be made known. I will feel my way to them through an open heart.

Everything is getting clear on the path before me and with gratitude for the teachings they offered, I wish my manatee friends safe journeys through the waterways of life.

As I reflect on the week I remember the rainbow arching over my left shoulder, Follow Your Dream Parkway and the mother manatee and juvenile that rested on my left shoulder. The meaning isn’t lost on me. The visceral connection of the teaching is working deep within me. I remember the mother taking my right hand off of the camera housing with her flipper and holding my hand within her flippers and then directing it to her heart. How can I not experience long-lasting and powerful change after this?

******

And yes…Sea World called and I got to visit Magnolia in her med pool. She is recovering nicely and being treated for deep propeller wounds along with other manatees who are injured. The rescue and rehab program at Sea World is simply amazing. Simply. Amazing!

Trust the Light

By Simone Lipscomb | October 13, 2014

The stage at The Frog Pond Sunday Social was filled with awesome musicians…singer/songwriters…guitar virtuosos….another cauldron of creative genius. I was there not only as a music-lover but as a photographer as well.

From my point of view the lighting for photography was great for everyone except Will Kimbrough. He was backlit with a strong late-afternoon sun. As I photographed the group, I accepted with almost certainty that I wouldn’t have any good shots of Will but kept on playing with exposure settings and playing with the light.

As the uploading of files from camera to computer began last night I began editing my work and was surprised that some of those shots I never expected to work out were some of my best shots of the afternoon. The images of Cathe Steel and Will at the mic for a Grayson Capps fantastic song, Love, turned out. The backlighting powerfully illustrated the love generated by people dedicated to promoting a better world through music.

How many times do we give up on a situation, a person, a place, our passion because we don’t think the conditions are right? How many times do we pass on opportunities because we think it’s just not a good time or situation? Sometimes when we proceed anyway, take the risk, allow the creative spirit within us to keep flowing, something wonderful results.

simonelipscomb61 — *Grayson Capps, singer songwriter wrote a phenomenal song…Love.*

This morning, as I was in my pre-writing contemplation, Mary Elizabeth, Will’s sister, messaged me about a couple of shots from yesterday. In the reply to her I said, “Will’s such a special light for our world,” and then realized the images of of Will perfectly expressed how I see him and the gifts he brings to our planet. What I originally thought of as challenging backlighting proved to illustrate exactly what I wanted to express through images of this gifted musician.

My intention as a photographer is to capture the essence, the heart, of the subject. Usually I am standing in the middle of a quiet mountain stream or on sunrise sands communing with light as it fills the sky or illuminates rushing water. Playing with light is really what I do. Photographing humans is a newer endeavor but it’s really the same isn’t it? Seeking out, playing with light within a person’s face, heart…music.

Creative work and spiritual path are the same in my mind. I cannot separate the two. Photography is the work of my heart, my method of choice for bringing forth more beauty, more joy. It’s never been clear where the Path will lead. Sometimes life seems like a random series of brief moments of insight. And then there are times when a glimpse into the big picture is granted, like the opening of a curtain for a short glimpse of truth, and I see…and it makes sense. All I have to do is trust the light.

John O’Donohue wrote a blessing for all of us bringing forth our heart’s work.

“May the light of your soul guide you. May the light of your soul bless the work you do with the secret love and warmth of your heart. May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul. May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light, and renewal to those who work with you and to those who see and receive your work. May your work never weary you. May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration, and excitement. May you be present in what you do. May you never become lost in the bland absences. May the day never burden. May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your new day with dreams, possibilities, and promises. May evening find you gracious and fulfilled. May you go into the night blessed, sheltered, and protected. May your soul calm, console, and renew you.”

Sea, Stars and Sighs

By Simone Lipscomb | October 4, 2014

I arrived at the beach as the sun sank below the bank of clouds on the western horizon. As the soft, white sand squeaked under my feet on the path, I crested the top of the dune. The most beautiful sunset of my life unfolded over the Gulf of Mexico. I wanted to check the sea turtle nest but first grabbed my phone to take a few photos….and began my mantra: oh my god thank you this is beautiful thank you thank you thank you….(breathe in…..breathe out).

Knowing that the nest would most likely hatch this evening, I hurriedly set up my chair and dropped jacket and water bottle on the chair and walked into the tarped nest. As soon as I put the stethoscope into my ears the sounds of cascading sand and turtles crawling just beneath the surface was loud. I knelt in the cool sand, having to ignore the brilliant sunset, and concentrated. One, two, three, four, five…….fifteen, sixteen….short break then one, two, three….sixteen…..one, two, three….and for probably twenty minutes there were cascading sounds which is pretty much a sign of eminent exit from the nest. Which, in turtle time, means a few minutes to hours. Turtles operate on instinct and use very soft chirping and grunting sounds to help coordinate their exit and crawl to the sea.

After last evening’s call to team members about cascades deeper in the nest, resulting in several team members coming out, I wasn’t about to once again tell folks to come until there was a physical change to the nest. I got up, got the shovel and neatened the shallow trench, looked for ghost crab holes that might harbor predators to our little turtle buddies, and then went back to view the nest. In just a few short minutes the top had dropped.

My heart raced as I texted two of our team members: Nest dropped. Come now!

I lifted the predator screen a bit so they could escape without walking on the wire mesh, rechecked the glove supply and waited. By then the beautiful colors had faded and the gray of twilight had arrived. The moon, over half-way full, lit up wispy clouds. One at a time, three of my teammates arrived and we took turns listening and quietly observing the nest.

As often happens with sea turtles, they are in no hurry to exit their nest that has been their home for fifty-something days. Over the past five days we had heard sounds that evidenced hatching. Slowly each one makes his or her way nearer the surface where they usually wait until most are able and ready to join in for a massive exit. Two nights ago one scout had exited during the night and made it to water. Tonight the gang was gathering.

My over-fifty knees grew weary of kneeling outside the tarp peering in at the gathering mass of dark, little hatchlings. I walked out to the edge of the water and simply breathed in the beauty of the evening. Stars peeked through wispy clouds, small waves rolled to the shore….moonlight reflected on the surface of the sea. It was a night that reached out to grab anyone willing to be taken into its grasp.

It’s challenging to describe the raw, primal beauty witnessed and experienced when midwifing sea turtles. Watching and listening to their process is beautiful but there is another very personal transformation that can happen in the moonlight, at the edge of the Ocean, exposed to the instinctual wisdom of this reptile species. As much as I enjoy writing, it always frustrates me when I attempt to convey what happens within me during these turtle nights.

I feel one with the Universe….I feel the energy of life filling me….the Ocean speaks to me through the sound of waves and the moonlight dancing on the its waves….there is a sense of Oneness with all life…I feel a part of everything and everyone….I feel surrounded by love…and yet these attempts to describe it seem so hollow compared to the actual transcendental experience.

After a while of feeling blissed-out and rebalanced, I walked back to where the other turtle gals were kneeling and peeking over the tarp. The surface of the nest was thick with dark, fat baby loggerhead sea turtles. Those on top were resting and moved only when the mass below them moved as one. A surge from below them appeared to make the entire group breathe as one. The moonlight illuminated this so we could watch. (We don’t use lights, not even red, safety lights, when they are emerging).

Finally, after being amazing even more (if that’s possible) by these instinctually-wise reptiles, one started crawling which caused the rest to awaken from their nap. Down the dune, between the tarp they crawled. We expected them to head straight for the moonlight, which was almost perfectly aligned due south of the nest. They, however, had other ideas.

After we rounded up little ones headed in every direction and had safely seen over 100 babies to the water, one of my teammates said, “Bet you never thought watching turtles hatch was aerobic exercise.” We all laughed but it was as if they had no sense of direction and ignored the moonlight…odd. There were no major lights from near-by houses so we weren’t really sure why their wires were crossed. Several had to be encouraged into the water, even after they had a short swim. Too late to change your mind now kiddos…it’s time to go for your destiny!

We cooled off a bit, calmed down and visited with each other before we dispersed. One sweet turtle volunteer stayed behind to keep watch for others we could hear working their way up through the nest.

So that’s what it’s like when sea turtles exit their nest. Sometimes they crawl as a group to the water and swim off like well-behaved kids and then there are nights like tonight. All are magical, all teach me about the incredible instinctual wisdom they have as wee babes, and there is always some mystical experience that emerges, at least for me, from exposure to the sea, stars, sand, and turtles.

I breathe in….I breathe out…I am grateful.

Seeing

By Simone Lipscomb | September 25, 2014

From John O’Donohue’s Anam Cara

“To the fearful eye, all is threatening. When you look toward the world in a fearful way, all you see and concentrate on are things that can damage and threaten you. The fearful eye is always besieged by threat.”

“To the loving eye, everything is real. This art of love is neither sentimental nor naive. Such love is the greatest criterion of truth, celebration, and reality. Love is the light in which we see each thing in its true origin, nature, and destiny. If we could look at the world in a loving way, then the world would rise up before us full of invitation, possibility, and depth.”

Listening to Earth

By Simone Lipscomb | September 9, 2014

It’s quiet here. Or perhaps I should say it’s still here. In the pale, pre-dawn light, the soothing sounds of crickets and other night-singers serenade me as I sit in the car, waiting in line with anticipation for the gate to open and allow a visit Cade’s Cove at sunrise.

Blue-gray fog hovers just above tree tops. Drops of moisture slide down tiers of leaves and finally on to soft, rain-soaked soil. Staccato drop….drop….SPLAT! Cool air caresses my face as it tentatively enters my open windows, soundless but equally pleasurable.

Softly, slowing the morning arrives. There is no place on Earth I would rather be than in this wild and protected place. I too feel safe here, protected and free to connect with wild acres of forest, meadow and stream…and resident wildlife.

Finally the gate opens and the line of vehicles slowly disperses, each of us going to our own sweet spot. With no particular plan, I am guided to the Primitive Baptist Church. It’s down a gravel road and sits, front door open, welcoming me.

I walk in timidly, checking to see if a bear family or, even more scary, a skunk family might have used it for their morning napping place but there is nobody here except me and the beautiful spiritual presence of this place. The potent nature energies weave through the building and invite a balance of human and nature.

As is my custom, whenever I find myself alone here, I sing. Today I notice how the notes and words roll through the large room, how the sound moves in waves…wave upon wave reverberating through old rough-hewn lumber.

I move on as other humans began to arrive and find myself, once again, alone.

This time I am sitting on a large rock, with a large fuzzy-covered microphone in hand and headphones over my ears. I am recording nature sounds–specifically…rushing water. I explore how sound bounces off of large rocks. It seems some rocks hold sound and I find myself intrigued and hold the mic beside a beautiful moss-covered gray rock sitting on the edge of the creek. I’m listening to Earth, I think. How sweet it feels to connect so deeply with Her.

At the end of the day fatigue from lack of sleep and long travels has disappeared and been replaced with an inner calm that is profound. Vision usually guides me in my explorations into the wilds but today sweet sounds of Earth were the guide. Something within me that was asleep has awakened and I feel more alive, more present…simply from listening to Earth.