Nature's teachings Archives

The Questions We Ask

By Simone Lipscomb | February 20, 2013

Florida Manatee posing for a candid photograph

Yesterday I watched a news video relating the story of a family that abused a baby manatee. By abuse I mean the dad pulled it out of the water, hugged it, placed his small children on it while it was half out of the water and who knows what other torments. All of this was documented by photographs and posted to the dad’s Facebook page. A Facebook friend turned them in to Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission. The dad was arrested.

It is suspected that the baby manatee was already suffering cold stress from the recent chilly weather so the abusive handling most likely further stressed the calf which could easily lead to its death.

So. what’s the big deal? Manatees are one of the most endangered species in our area. They estimate the population to be around 5000 individuals. Reproduction rate is slow, many are killed and seriously injured each year by boat propellers. These are the biological answers, the scientific answers that support the very strict rules of conduct that are enforced by law enforcement agencies charged with protecting wildlife listed under the Endangered Species Act.

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.

To fully understand this question one must journey deeper to the ethical and moral foundation of how we treat species other than our own. Manatees are very gentle, curious creatures with friendly dispositions. Given the fact that humans have nearly decimated their populations, they are incredibly trusting of us.

In a recent trip with a group of women to Crystal River, Florida, a juvenile was persistent in forcing an interaction with me. I believe in passive observation only and don’t ‘pet’ them. If they want to nose around my dry suit, play with my camera housing or suck on my hair, I don’t mind. But I don’t encourage the contact by excessive touch. I want them to be wild for their own good.

But this little one refused to leave me alone until I lowered my camera and held my hand out in the water. She swam to my hand and laid her head snugly in my palm and we maintained eye contact. My heart and entire being was open to the connection and it felt as if we crossed space and time where different species gain understanding and trust. After I gently pulled my hand back and swam on, I sobbed into my mask and thought, why do these animals trust us when their near-destruction is at our hands? I felt honored and blessed and as usual, deeply changed from the interaction.

So the story of the recent abuse of a baby made me nearly crazy with grief. The family had no concept of respect for the baby, no understanding that this darling manatee child was such an important link in the recovery of a seriously endangered species. I weep for this and all ignorance with which humans continue to destroy our beautiful planet–ourselves. As a collective it seems we see no connection between ourselves and other species, rivers, oceans….How did we become so separate from nature, from each other?

A dear friend of mine had a wonderful solution. He suggested that the family be ‘sentenced’ to work in a manatee rehabilitation center so they can truly understand the fragility of these gentle beings. Of course! What an amazing idea. For, as he said, we are taught by example. We learn from others. What better way to understand another species than to be taught directly by them. We can truly and profoundly understand another by helping them heal their wounds.

I think they see the reflection in the housing port...they are truly fascinated with cameras — I think they see the reflection in the housing port…they are truly fascinated with cameras

And this idea is applicable with all species, including other humans.

It is time to start asking the right questions and devoting ourselves to the healing of all beings. For that truly is how we learn about their suffering, their challenges. When we learn compassion, seeds of peace are planted. And that can only lead to a better world.

My Life as a Pelican

By Simone Lipscomb | February 18, 2013

The past two days have been a crash course in how to be a pelican. I’ve learned how to preen using the oil gland at my tail to waterproof my feathers. I’ve noticed that I must pay careful attention to oiling and smoothing my many long feathers.

Popping my bill can be used as an aggressive kind of communication, to let others know I’m unhappy with their behavior and as a demonstration of contentment just before settling in for a little nap.

Down the hatch...head first please! — Down the hatch…head first please!

Fish have to be swallowed head first. If a fish is too big to eat I’ll show my displeasure by stepping on the head of said fish as I plop across the pier deck. If a fish gets stuck in my pouch I stretch my neck down and then up and shake my head. And I might have to do this while running from greedy pelicans who want to steal my treasured handout.

Nothing is more relaxing and pleasurable than snoozing in the sun, on a chilly, windy day, after my belly is full.

Check out my awesome diving eyelid... — Check out my awesome diving eyelid…

I have more than one set of eyelids and its fun to freak humans out by closing my diving eyelid.

Shit is not particularly offensive to me, especially pelican poop-shit but I really don’t like human shit like plastic and garbage, monofilament line and fish hooks carelessly left on the pier and beach.

As a pelican initiate, the past two days have taught me that some humans are kind and gentle, while others are aggressive and mean-spirited to my kind and get upset when we congregate in places where they feed us. Imagine that….angry at our poopy mess when they feed us the left-overs from their fish-cleaning. That seems crazy but unfortunately fits human unpredictability. Illogical beings, these humans.

My life as a pelican.... — My life as a pelican….

Over the past two days in pelican training I mostly learned to be present, in the moment. What happened before is irrelevant, what happens tomorrow not worth the worry…but now. NOW! This is the moment where joy and peace exists.

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.

Animal Teachers

By Simone Lipscomb | January 16, 2013

Two days ago I launched my SUP board at a small, sandy beach on the river and noticed otter tracks. Native traditions speak of the otter as teaching playfulness. The water is an ancient symbol for the feminine, creative forces and emotions in life so otter’s play reminds us that we all need to allow our creative side a chance to come out and play and to not take life so seriously.

As I paddled I thought about the tracks and was excited to know that an otter had visited our little beach and reminded me to lighten up. Life had been very serious and heavy for the past couple of weeks so the otter’s visit was a little nudge to play a bit.

The otter tracks were still present when I launched my board this morning. It was foggy and cool, the dampness permeated everything. The cypress trees stood as silent centennials along the river bank. The absence of wind made paddling especially enjoyable as my board sliced through the mirror-like surface.

I rounded a bend in the river and to my horror saw a pelican floating head down in the river. It was obviously dead but I wanted to remove it from the water to offer respect and to acknowledge its life….and death. I knelt down on my board and grasped a wing and pulled. It hardly moved. I looked closer and saw its neck was fully extended with the bill potentially stuck in the shallow bottom. I grasped both wings and pulled very hard. Nothing. I tried several times but made no progress.

How was this possible? In over 50 years of life spent enjoying the water and especially pelicans, I had never seen anything so strange. What happened? I wanted badly to free the bird but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t help. Finally I gave up, said a little prayer and paddled on, still thinking about this strange occurrence. Still disturbed by such a strange accident. And determined to understand the teaching being offered.

I thought of the native teachings about pelicans–renewed buoyancy. “Being able to be buoyant and rest on top in spite of the heaviness of life circumstances. The pelican teaches that no matter how difficult life becomes, no matter how much you plunge, you can pop to the surface,” writes Ted Andrews in his book, Animal Speak.

Well…unless you miscalculate your next move and get yourself stuck…deadly stuck… like my poor friend did.

This strange occurrence, along with the traditional meaning, spoke to me quite deeply.

I pondered the teaching all day, especially the feeling of giving up and feeling heartbroken that I couldn’t free this magnificent bird from the entrapment of mud. Eventually the application became obvious.

No matter how much we want to help a friend or loved one who is trapped in their misery, sometimes we have to let go. We are powerless to change another’s situation, powerless to free them from their stuckness. We can be supportive, can pray for them and offer to help, but ultimately their freedom comes from their own willingness to dive into clarity and love and let the lightness of their being lift them up. We are powerless to save them from themselves.

Such grief and sadness comes with the realization that letting go is the only choice, the only thing left to do.

What a feeling of powerlessness….yet what a beautiful point of surrender. And for that lesson I am deeply grateful.

Rest in peace my friend.

The Gap

By Simone Lipscomb | January 13, 2013

There’s a place within each of us where all is quiet and still. Where thoughts cease and worries are set aside and there is silence. Photographing nature brings me to The Gap more than anything else I do. And today I was lucky enough to find myself in this neutral place of stillness twice.

First, while kneeling on the beach photographing the waves all thoughts ceased and whatever I am was at one with the water, the sand, the air. What an exquisite experience.

Then while sitting on a concrete piling, crossed legs bracing my elbows to support my telephoto lens….it happened again. Completely lost in the moment, empty and yet full because of the complete oneness with the moment.

My path for this year is a journey into full immersion of the beauty of planet Earth. And to share what I experience with others. Today I celebrate the oneness of all life and the understanding that we truly are one with it.