SEA TURTLES Archives - Page 7 of 11 -

Service, Gratitude, Beauty

By Simone Lipscomb | May 19, 2013

Sunday at dawn finds me on the beach these days. It is my day to cover a stretch of shoreline looking for sea turtle tracks and nests. I go a little early to play with the light, the wind and water. It sets the intention of the week for me–service, gratitude and beauty.

I awakened at 4am with a dream of turtle tracks. So real was it my senses were activated…touch and smell especially. After checking email I dressed in my green turtle shirt, shorts and flip flops and headed to the beach. But even with such a vivid dream there were only human tracks, no turtle tracks, in any of our team’s assigned area.

Surprised was I that no tracks or nests were found, but so happy to be present to witness the beauty and commune with the sea. And then share breakfast with three other women who share the same love of the ocean and sea turtles as me.

We’re still waiting mama turtles and we’ll be here whenever you bless our sand once more with your babes. Until then, happy turtle dancing with your turtle ‘mans.’

Sunrise on the Shore

By Simone Lipscomb | May 5, 2013

I awakened just before 5am and hurriedly dressed for 46 degree, windy weather. I couldn’t imagine a sea turtle mama crawling ashore in this cold May weather to dig a nest and lay eggs but regardless, the dedicated sea-turtle-loving members of Share the Beach excitedly began nesting season patrol this week. No complaints about the early hour, wind or cold.

I arrived to pick up a team member twenty minutes early so walked over to a marshy area, set up my tripod and enjoyed a few minutes of creative flow as the canvas spread out before me. Ahhhh…..my favorite time of day.

Just before the sun peeked out from the eastern horizon, when the essence of life felt so full, so pregnant with possibilities, I listened as bird song urged the birth of another day. Wind whipped around me and the marsh grass whoosed and shusssshed in answer.

Then on to the Gulf and my walk began after I was dropped at the section I walk. Alone except for a few sanderlings and willets wandering the foam-whipped shoreline for tidbits of breakfast. Blowing sand made a hazy layer of air and earth as the tiny quartz bits blasted my protected legs. Good morning Mother Ocean, I whispered.

I walked in a graveyard of shells, the host animals were killed when dredges pumped sand back on the beachfront. It isn’t often such whole shells wash ashore here and the thought of such loss of life, even for such small creatures, hung heavy in the wild air.

While I celebrated the beauty around me, I grieved the multitude of ways humans have negatively impacted our beautiful planet. Walk softly, dear friends. Walk gently upon this place.

The Language of Nature

By Simone Lipscomb | October 6, 2012

This past summer I deepened my understanding of nature. The challenge I find now is conveying, in words, the lessons because they came in wordless experiences while sitting under star canopies, beside salty waters–each conveying not with words but with the essence of life. How could I possibly scribble symbols to share this ancient language”? It is unwritten and must be felt….deeply felt.

I’ve puzzled over writing about primeval energies with words. It seems like two ends of a very broad spectrum of experience–the body and visceral and the mind that wants to sort and categorize and label. Maybe ancient earth wisdom is best described by sharing sensations, what my body experienced. And that’s easy: opening. My heart, mind, soul, body….o p e n i n g.

So maybe the only thing I need to write is that nature opened me this summer and I found a deep primeval dance within my heart and soul.

What makes you dance these days? What opens you to life?

Merrily, Merrily…Life is But a Dream

By Simone Lipscomb | September 10, 2012

This morning the wind was painting the clear blue sky with wisps of white–feathery clouds that floated overhead as I paddled my SUP board. While I heard evidence of humans, I saw no one. The sounds of traffic faded and my focus became the splashing of water droplets when they jumped as my paddle sliced the surface of the Magnolia River.

My mind needed time to slow down and process everything that has happened in the past two weeks…this entire summer. Cooler temperatures and lower humidity, heralds of seasonal changes, prompted me to reflect as I paddled.

When Hurricane Isaac passed south of our coast, we really didn’t have much to complain about compared to those who weathered a direct hit. But it did pose a problem for some very special beings, still incubating in their eggs buried under the white sand beside the Gulf.

As the waves roared to heights of twelve feet and the frothy water churned, the beach slowly disappeared along the Alabama Gulf Coast. Not all of it, but enough to begin to wash away sea turtle nests–loggerheads protected under the Endangered Species Act. As soon as Little Lagoon Pass bridge re-opened a few of us went to check on the unhatched nests. One was washing away as I crested the dune. I found a baby half out of her shell, washed on top of the dune. My heart sank. Two other team members arrived and we collected unhatched eggs and egg shells. Because of flooding, the babies were coming too soon but were coming never-the-less because they have a reflex that takes over when their nest is flooded. They were emergency hatching.

With howling wind and driving rain and waves that were shaking the beach, these premie turtles were making a break for it. Emotions within me were scattered just as the egg shells were after waves had eaten the nest and dispersed them. But there was no time to stop and connect with feelings because of the work necessary to save these babies. And we saved as many as possible. The experience left me raw and unhinged.

But today….this beautiful pre-autumnal morning–there was time to allow a space for everything I have experienced this summer. Joyous births of hundreds of sea turtles over the course of the past few months, connecting with nature-lovers and people who put wildlife first, night skies filled with shooting stars, laughter and more all drifted effortlessly through my mind. And challenges I’ve had surfaced as well. But everything that floated through my mind lazily moved by just as a piece of driftwood or leaf blown by the slight breeze.
This summer I’ve immersed myself so deeply with nature that trying to fit into a world of humans and machines has been challenging. I’ve wanted to simply allow nature to take me and teach me the instinctual wisdom that many of us (as humans) have forgotten.

Sea turtles have called to me for many years. I’ve collected art–like a raku turtle hatchling that sits on my desk or the art tattooed on my body–and named my business, Turtle Island Adventures, and had experiences with them while diving or walking along the shore. All of this feels like bread crumbs along my Path, leading me to this point….this place of remembering.

The language of the wind, the Earth’s heart beat, star energy and the ancient instinctual wisdom of sea turtles has filled my summer and I’ve never felt so in sync with my purpose. If I could have dreamed up this life, I can think of few things I would add to the experiences unfolding….maybe world peace and renewable energy instead of fossil fuels….two more things to dream up. Will you join me?

As Above, So Below

By Simone Lipscomb | August 21, 2012

After a couple days of rain and storms, the Gulf kicked up a bit and offered a show of light that has me—hours later–still in a state of awe.

First there was the strong wind creating powerful waves and high surf. Then the clouds created a most amazing display of color and shape. For hours the sky went through color-after-color and cloud formations that kept me in perpetual vocalization with statements like, “I can’t believe this sky,” or “This is amazing,” and “Oh, my goodness.” These phrases became a sort of mantra for me as I breathed in golden light seeming to bounce off of every surface of fluffy cloud and every ripple and wave of the sea. I’d take a few photos and put my camera away only to pull it out just moments later.

And all the while waiting for two groups of sea turtles to decide if birth was in their plans for the evening.

Finally, the colors faded and a call came from a nest just down the beach, “Can you ladies come down and give a hand?” So we left our quiet nest and went a few blocks down the beach and joined our team members awaiting the imminent birth of loggerheads while standing under starlight of now-clear skies. And about thirty minutes later, the hole darkened and 78 babies came out in a nearly darkened skyline to crawl toward the rough water of the Gulf.

As a few of us walked along beside these tiny beings near the water I whispered to them to dive deep and let the undertow take them out to sea as the waves were churning. We approached the tideline and the sand lit up with an uprush of water. Phosphorescence in the water! The sand glowed like neon lights as the water receded. And as the little loggerhead flippers touched the sand, it was as if the starlight above was reflected below and the tiny beings flapped and crawled along phosphorescent stars underneath them to dive into their new home, their true home.

Sometimes its difficult to take in so much beauty, such complete beauty. And yet with each breath, I exhale gratitude. Perfect balance, perfect beauty. As above, so below.