Diamonds in the Web

I sit here in the shade of pine trees at Gator Lake and allow the breeze to cool me after the long hike through the refuge on the sandy trail. I hear the Gulf roaring across the lake as the drone of insects sounds in the surrounding marsh. Haze from salt spray, laden with particles of oil, blurs the tree line and I realize that even here, a half mile from the breaking waves, I am breathing air that carries molecules of benzene, hydrogen sulfide, toluene, xylene, and who knows what else from MC252 oil well.

What will be the long term effect on the marshes, the beaches, and ecosystems? What will be the consequences we cannot see from here but are lurking in the future? What happens to all of the workers who spent twelve hour days in 100 degree heat breathing contaminated air at its worst?

There are so many strands in the web of life, in these fragile ecosystems along the Gulf Coast. So many intricate aspects to such a rich gathering of life force in the Gulf, saltwater marshes, and inland habitats. If only one part of the living system was injured, the stronger parts could support it and nurture it back to health. Unfortunately, every part of this precious place is affected and the confounding thing is we simply have no idea how badly it is injured. Not yet anyway.

Take, for instance, the oil-soaked sea oats. Will the seeds grow after being coated in oil? The primary dune line, where the sea oats grow, is the first defense against storms. If sea oats do not reproduce due to the oily mist saturating them, what will become of the dune line? Not this year, but 3 years from now.

And what about the coquina shells that have been long-gone from many beaches since the spill? They are beginning to come back in some areas but what is the long-term effect of oil on their genetics? Will they be able to reproduce when constantly exposed to toxins found in crude oil? (And yes, the oil is still washing up, it’s still in the Gulf…weathered but present). We don’t know, do we?

There is suspicion that blue fin tuna’s reproduction may not have happened this summer due to the spill. The Gulf is where they migrate to breed. They were already in decline. What happens to them now? So many unanswered questions. So many unknowns. So maddening, this waiting. This prayerful waiting.

I sit here feeling the breeze kiss my sweaty face with all of these questions rumbling through my mind. What will this place look like five years from now? Will nature recover from this inundation of toxins? What species will survive and which ones won’t? I ask again, What will it take for humans to wake up, to remember our intimate connection to nature? To remember that what we do to nature ultimately determines our fate, especially the fate of our grandchildren. Will we, as a species, ever put aside our selfishness and grow into responsible adults?

My grief runs deep but it is not rooted on just the oil spill or the mining disasters all over the world or other human-generated catastrophies and assaults to the planet. The seed of my grief is the apathy and ignorance of one species–and I am a member of it.

Each of us is a diamond in the web of life. Each crab, every stingray, sea turtle, fish, bird, and plant are jewels in this sacred web. When one strand breaks, many suffer. We are diamonds in the web, let us shine with the light of awakening consciousness!