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A Wild Heart Always Has Hope

By Simone Lipscomb | June 15, 2014

Stanley Kubrick awakened me this morning in his attempt to snuggle closer. My orange tabby and his sisters missed me during my two week absence as I recharged and renewed my life in my spiritual home, Bonaire.

Unable to return to the land of dreams, I felt a shell forming around me…the one that I unconsciously assemble when away from the wilds of the magic of the desert island that touches me like no other place. When I make my yearly pilgrimage I feel it immediately cast off as soon as I walk down the stairs from the plane to the ground in the high, dry winds. Once the ground of Bonaire is underfoot I enter a deep place within myself.

On the final dive of the visit home, I turned to face the deep, blue water past the reef. My hands folded in a prayer position, I thanked the community of life there that welcomes me and nurtures me so profoundly. As I gently flipped my fin to turn back toward shore, I noticed a smallish green turtle slowly and effortlessly swimming in across my path. I stopped and watched and started laughing with joy. How perfect! For many years my logo has been a sea turtle and so the many, many teachings received and lessons learned from these two weeks were given the proverbial icing on the cake.

As I surfaced I turned and look back over the Ocean toward the mountains at the north end of the island. The setting sun was golden as it sparkled on the water’s surface. Suddenly I burst into joy-enduced laughter that was in no hurry to subside.

Another desert visit on Friday and then it was Saturday, time to leave. This is no easy task for me…aside from repacking dive gear, photography gear, computer and clothes. Uprooting myself from this sacred place is painful, so deep is the connection I feel to it.

As I sat next to the Ocean in the pre-dawn moments, the full moon hung amidst puffy clouds in the lightening sky. The rising sun’s light began to reflect onto the cloud which in turn reflected on the Ocean’s surface and then to me. It felt like the resplendent light of the Universe was touching me to ease the pain of leaving.

The pull of the moon on the sea has the same pull on me, my own inner tides. Turquoise and indigo saltwater bliss were inches from my toes and once again I was conscious of the Oneness of life.

Little crabs, at home in their crab kingdom, creeped closer and closer to my still toes. Wind whipped through my long mermaid hair. Salt air filled my lungs with each deep breath I took and with the exhalation feelings were given space to be…joy, sadness, grief, gratitude.

The bells of Her voice spoke through the tinkling coral pieces washing in the surf, in the wind whispering through cactus needles and by osmosis as I spent over 31 hours beneath the surface during my time there. Be fluid, be movable. Be open to the tides of your life. Live in awareness and awake to the energies of the planet. Be an ally to all life of the planet.

The downy breast of the tiny dove cradles her heart thats warmth touches mine. The iguana’s reptile heart, encased in rough scales on leathery skin, beats a rhythm I feel. The small but strong hearts of tiny crabs skittering along the shore’s edge, give yet another cadence. Each part of life pulses to its own, unique beat yet exists in harmony with all other life. We are all connected by one beating, planetary heart.

My favorite experience of the two week journey happened on a solo dive:

While diving at the Salt Pier I floated weightless among a huge school of small-mouth grunts. Their deep gold stripes and fins were brilliant against the deeper blue water beyond the pilings. Hovering horizontal, unmoving except how the Ocean chose to move us, the fish and I became one life, connected by water. Their large black eyes watched me, unconcerned. I was no threat, only part of the whole, in sync with them, in harmony. Almost an hour spent floating, gently drifting with the ever-so-slight undulations of the sea, surrendered, at peace. Part of the whole. Connected.

A friend recently reminded me that a wild heart always has hope. This is my life’s song:

Into the blue, into the blue

Deeper and deeper I drop.

Gliding down to the briny deep,

The spiral continues in my journey of love,

Of compassion…of hope.

Lesson from a Drop of Water

By Simone Lipscomb | May 17, 2014

Imagine a drop of water clinging to a leaf over a still river. It desperately holds on to what is familiar because the Unknown is vast. What if the drop loses what it knows as itself in the huge expanse of water? What will happen to it?

Alas, the fight to hold on becomes more difficult than facing the fear of letting go. So slowly, ever so slowly, gravity works its magic and the droplet lets go.

The droplet feels the rush of cool air as it speeds to the surface but there’s nothing to do now except allow…be open, inviting.

The first touch of the river sends vibrations of knowing throughout the droplet. Instead of losing itself, its identity, it becomes the river, the bay, the Gulf…the Ocean.

When we allow ourselves to let go and be immersed in the Vast Expanse we call…God, Spirit, Source, Great Spirit, the Tao….we become who we are. There is no need to search, just a need to let go and allow.

We Are Instruments

By Simone Lipscomb | May 5, 2014

The guitar and musician were within a few feet of me. His hands gently and purposefully changing frets and playing notes captured my attention. I found myself in a kind of trance watching and listening. Hearing not only the music, I heard my inner voice clearly say: We are instruments. Just like the guitar can sit and be silent or allow the touch of Spirit to move through and create beautiful gifts for the world.

I allowed this mantra to flow throughout my being like a trickle of water from head to toe. I felt my body become hollow and filled with the essence of Spirit. It didn’t last that long because Will began singing lyrics again and so my attention was drawn back to his voice. And yet the idea expanded as I saw his hands as instruments, his voice and realized that each of us have the capacity to be instruments of Love…Life…the Creative Force.

*Kerry Parks, glass artist creating one of her beautiful pieces of art*

We have freedom of choice. We can resist the Creative Impulsive that desires to fill us and flow through us or we can be open and receptive instruments.

Armondo owns a cave diving site in Akumal, Mexico and carves beautiful statues to honor the Earth. His energy is spent in this endeavor. — *Armondo owns a cave diving site in Akumal, Mexico and carves beautiful statues to honor the Earth.*

So what’s the secret to doing this? Perhaps its different for everyone but there are common threads of courage, determination, surrender, a playful spirit.

*Anthony Crawford of Sugarcane Jane and Willie Sugarcapps*

Have you ever watched someone in the process of creating? What do you notice? In others I am aware of them going into a sort of meditative state or zone where they allow their gifts to express freely without filtering or resisting. For my own creative endeavors its a complete surrender to being present in the moment and allowing inspiration to move me without judging or criticizing. The key is being in the flow.

There are endless ways we can be instruments of the Creative Flow (or whatever label you wish to call it). It can be as simple as interacting with others every day with an open heart. Or allowing Love to love through us to animals, friends, the Earth. There are no bounds or limits to Love flowing through us except those we impose.

*Savana Lee Crawford of Sugarcane Jane and Willie Sugarcapps*

Let it come through your voice….

Your hands…..

Your words….

Excerpt about a dive from, Sharks On My Fin Tips: “Everywhere I looked life was evident… As I moved, I absentmindedly started to hum a tune. From what depths did the song come? It seemed to come from my heart and was quite pleasant so I allowed it to find expression by humming through my scuba regulator. It was not easy to emit any sound because the mouthpiece occupied the majority of space in my mouth, but I made the effort to let the music come forth.

The more I droned, the stronger the emotion became until I felt a constriction in my throat. The sensation was so strong I had to stop humming and take a deep breath. When I halted I heard an answering refrain from somewhere outside myself. Without hesitation I knew it to be the song of the Ocean.

With the realization came a wave of joy so powerful that I sobbed into my regulator and tears flooded my mask. The presence I felt earlier in the dive grew larger in my awareness. It became tangible and very real to me. I felt it surround me like a warm blanket.

The consciousness of the Mother Ocean was reaching out to me, tapping my heart with Her liquid fingers. It was Her song I had been singing…I hung motionless in the water column, overcome with the sweetest love I had ever felt.”

*Kit & Steve Schmeiser hosting a Mountain Wild gathering in Asheville, NC*

Allow yourself to be open….a channel…an instrument for Love and see what magnificent wonders are born within you to gift to the world.

Virgin grove of trees in Tennessee...allow your hands to be instruments of Love... — *Virgin grove of trees in Tennessee…allow your hands to be instruments of Love…*

Building an Ark…and Other Rainy Day Ideas

By Simone Lipscomb | April 29, 2014

Orange Grove at Peacock Springs State Park...water covering lower platform — *Orange Grove at Peacock Springs State Park…water completely covering lower platform and nearly to upper platform*

We have had a LOT of rain lately. So has Florida. Photos I took last week of my favorite cave diving site inundated with river water and duck weed prove that. It has officially rained so much my brain feels waterlogged.

It stated here about 3am with loud ka-booms in the distance. For the next 90 minutes lightning never seemed to turn off. And the rain was torrential.

A break this morning gave a window of opportunity to drive to Pure Barre in Daphne for a workout. The cloud cover, sprinkles all day and general threat of more weather has made for a very lazy day. The small bit of work accomplished included balancing my check book and vacuuming the house. Otherwise I have felt completely content with dreaming up ideas…like building an ark, creating a video of the top ten items that float down the Magnolia River in a flood and what to do when the frog armies demand quarters in my home due to high water outside.

5pm radar...looks about the same as 3am. — *5pm radar…looks about the same as 3am.*

With frequent lightning, being productive on the computer isn’t much of an option. I’m behind in uploading photographs and filing them and backing them up but my computer remains unplugged…safely unplugged.

So I hunker down with my cat buddies and await the passing of the storms. Sometimes that’s the best thing we can do…simply await the passing of the storm and move forward when the coast is clear.

The coming of this down-time is perfect after a potent week. Now comes the time for assessing the next step and cultivating a plan. So thank you rain. While I don’t intend to build an ark, there are others radical ideas brewing.

Two Days Before Earth Day

By Simone Lipscomb | April 19, 2014

simonelipscomb (2) — *Curacao…a beautiful island in the southern Caribbean*

Two days before Earth Day four years ago I was underwater. The strong taste of petroleum filled my mouth with every inhale. I signaled my dive buddies to surface under the star-filled night sky. Their air was fine. I didn’t know the source of the weird taste so we submerged but I stayed rather shallow and kept the dive brief.

I remember surfacing and turning back to look over my shoulder into the dark Ocean. A wind swept across the water and I felt a chill that shook my core. It was a very ominous way to end a dive.

A few days later I was sitting in the Atlanta airport after the flight from Curacao and saw the footage showing Deepwater Horizon in flames. When I am in the Caribbean I unplug as much as possible so had missed the news coverage of the explosion until I was almost back to Asheville. As I sat in disbelief on the vinyl-covered seat, clarity came and I knew it was time to go home.

Years ago I had promised the Gulf that I would help but didn’t know how. I heard a very distinct reply on the inner…You will know when it’s time to come home. The summons had been given. It was time.

I tracked the oil after arriving back to my mountain home and timed my arrival on the Alabama Coast, my birth place, a few days before the brown goo arrived. I wanted to document the unspoiled marshes and shores. I could sense the menace approaching but could do nothing except be a witness.

I remember one day I had been to Fort Morgan and was driving back to my mom’s on Bon Secour Bay. I stopped by a marsh and took photographs of large, orange boom in Mobile Bay. When I got back in the car I lost it. I mean really, really lost it. I started sobbing and screaming….how could we do this to our planet? It was as if I was experiencing a panic attack for our planet. I thought that I was witnessing the beginning of the end of life as we knew it.

One day as I walked the trail to the beach at Bon Secour Wildlife Refuge, I crested the top of the trail on the dune and saw before me a crime scene. Big blobs of smelly, brown goo were scattered all along the beach. I called the 800 number to report it and stayed for what seemed hours until somebody came to document it. Tearfully I sat on the sand and not knowing what to do I started singing to the Gulf of Mexico….I prayed and asked forgiveness for all humans. But mostly I grieved. My tears fell among crude oil staining the beach.

simonelipscomb (6) — *When the oil first came ashore it was marked with driftwood and gloves…I couldn’t help but enjoy the message this glove was giving.*

One week each month for the first year I returned to the Gulf of Mexico and documented seven areas of beach beginning at Fort Morgan and going to Fort Pickens, Florida. I remember a day in early July when I was standing at a tidal pool watching a little fish gasp in the grip of death as the bubbling crude oil, dispersant and salt water suffocated her. I was pretty close to the end of my coping skills. After days of breathing the benzene-ridden air, dealing with heat and the horrors of what I was witnessing I literally almost lost my shit, so to speak, watching that fish die.

Standing with tears flowing and sobbing I heard someone call my name. It jerked me out of the spiral of grief and I saw my friend Sherry, who I hadn’t seen in years, coming toward me. She gave me a big hug and we stood for a moment. I believe God or Mother Earth…or both… sent her to me that day. She was working on a clean-up crew and just ‘happened’ to be there.

My spiritual practice of meditation helped me make it through that year. My friend and teacher from England pulled me aside at a workshop almost a year after the spill and asked how I was doing. I told her how difficult it was to witness such needless destruction. She told me that there was a reason I was witnessing it and to stand firm in my love of the planet. Many friends from all over the world followed my blog posts and sent support to the Gulf and all life within and around it. If my actions could bring the truth to a few people, it was worth it.

The process of personal healing has been long after that year. The journey back to wholeness led me to return home permanently to the Gulf Coast. While I haven’t really understood what my role here is now, I have enjoyed each moment spent with sea turtle hatchlings, manatees, ospreys, eagles….the salt marshes and river. The very things that broke my heart and spirit have been my healers.

Much of what I shared during the spill and cleanup was what was happening on the beaches. The personal struggle was small compared to the ecosystem and the community of relationships within it. Yet humans, too, are a part of the community of nature. We are deeply engaged in the cycle of life whether we acknowledge it or not.

A week with Joanna Macy in Rowe, Massachusetts, allowed a group of thirty of us, working to make a positive difference on the planet, have a safe place to facilitate our healing and help us understand the process that is happening globally. Perhaps the most important lesson learned that week was that all of us are needed to, step-by-step, be midwives to the Great Awakening or as Joanna calls it, The Great Turning.

We cannot afford the luxury of turning our eyes away from the horrendous abuses humans do to the planet, to animals, to each other. We are all connected…we are one family of life surviving on a living planet.

A kid's book I created to explain the oil spill in a simple, understandable way to all ages. — *A kid’s book I created to explain the oil spill in a simple, understandable way to all ages.*

This Earth Day, let us remember our connection to our magnificent planet…the Ocean, sea turtles, dolphins, whales, otters, rivers, osprey, eagles, the kid across the street, the massive oak trees and the tiniest flower. We are One.

The taste of petroleum in my regulator on the dive in Curacao couldn’t be explained. On an energetic level I believe I connected with the disaster happening in the Gulf of Mexico while I was in Curacao, in the southernmost island of the Caribbean. It showed me, without doubt, that I am connected to the Ocean…the One Ocean…and to all life. And so are you my friends

To order my kid’s book on the oil spill or other books….please CLICK THIS LINK or visit Coastal Art Center in Orange Beach, AL or Page and Palette in Fairhope, AL.