Tag: gratitude

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part One

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part One

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“I feel overwhelmed with love and respect and compassion for all creatures of the sea. Tiny creatures, camouflaged to all who pass in haste, I stop and hover motionless awaiting the moment our eyes connect and we acknowledge the sacred light within each other.”

The above passage was taken from my journal after my first dive back on my “second” home–the home of my water heart–Bonaire. As I was transferring all the data into my dive log back home, I realized that first dive of the week was my 500th dive. I couldn’t think of a better place to celebrate and to connect with my favorite place to be–under water.

Over the next several days I’ll be posting parts and pieces of, Diary of a Wild Heart. Below find Part One.

As I was walking along the shore in front of the resort this morning I felt my heart open, my soul open, to the elements. Water, wind, earth, fire of the rising sun. In the whispers of the wind I heard that I have a choice each day–connect with my wild nature or not. My wildness, my instinctual self, is calling me. Hello! Bon jour! Wake up! Time to play with nature.

So  on the first morning I drove south while the rest of the group went on boat dives. The wind got wilder, as did the waves, the further toward the southern tip of the island I traveled. Earth and wind and water are crazy there. That rough-in-your-face-and-blow-right-through-you wind howls there and so the carry-your-soul-away ocean wave action resides there as well.

I exited the truck and stepped onto the ironstone, ancient coral rock with incredibly sharp edges. The clink-clink of tumbling coral could be heard amid the rush of huge waves crashing onto shore. Such rugged beauty blasted me powerfully, completely. I breathed deeply, inhaling the salt smell I craved. From the center of my being I whispered, Thank you. I had come home to my wild heart.

Ghosts Beneath the Water

Ghosts Beneath the Water

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There are times when the river is calm, when the water reflects the gray clouds and what lies beneath the surface is revealed–almost.

While paddling my SUP board in the early morning, when my mind is still halfway between the dream world and this waking realm, I often wonder, Which realm is revealing itself? Last week almost the entire three miles of gliding and communing in my River Cathedral was spent gazing just beneath the surface where scores of small fish intertwined and moved as one body in their schools of life.

I feel amazed. Full of wonder. Grateful.

Prehistoric Paddling Pals

Prehistoric Paddling Pals

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I don’t know why my newest paddling companions are gars. Lots of them. Every time I take my SUP board on the river I find gars surface near my board, grab a mouthful of air and quickly sink back to the dark depths of the water. I’m left going something like…”That was close,” or “GOOD MORNING!” I’m not scared of them but they often surprise me when I’m focused on my workout.

As the National Geographic photograph shows, these creatures have elongated jaws and LOTS of needle-sharp teeth. Some species can grow to lengths of over 10 feet. (gulp). My board is 12.6 feet long. And while I’m not scared of gars, I really have no desire to meet a 10 foot long fish with sharp teeth at 7am on the river. It just seems….unnecessary. Right?

While these fish can be intimidating, they really are quite amazing. They are largely unchanged over the past 100 million years and are often called living fossils. Their scales are so thick Native Americans fabricated arrowheads from them. They usually live in freshwater environments but can also live in brackish water.

While they have startled me when I’m lost in my paddle groove, I have come to look forward to encounters with them. They look at me or my board as they gulp air and then are gone. One day I met one of the biggest ones I’ve seen. He or she was probably five feet in length. Her scales were massive and she was laying on the surface of the water. The big fish didn’t hear me approach but when she saw me and/or my board, she was gone…POOF! I didn’t have any desire to become close personal friends but it was great seeing such an awesome fish.

Each morning I look for the osprey that are nesting along the shore. Today they were fishing, flying down the center of the river looking for breakfast. I saw the mallards and a kingbird. A brown pelican flew alongside for a while. I also look for gars and I didn’t see any during the first 2 miles this morning and I was disappointed. But luckily for me I saw two on the way back and they thrilled me with very close encounters.

Maybe I feel a little like a fossil trying to race my SUP board with kids in their 20’s. Being in the ‘over 50’ group I feel at a disadvantage physically. I have more limitations than my younger cohorts. However, what I lack in physical prowess I make up for in my mature outlook….”OH PLEASE LET ME FINISH AND PLEASE DON’T LET ME BE LAST!”

I’m getting stronger with my regular SUP workout and I am making new friends each day I spend on the river. To all my gar friends–thanks for saying hello and thanks for keeping your needle-sharp teeth off of my board! I’ll see you in the morning.

Wisdom of the Wild

Wisdom of the Wild

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My first morning back on the Gulf Coast found me paddling my SUP board from Mobile Bay into Weeks Bay. Since it was a chilly 51 degrees, there was nobody else on the water in boats or other watercraft. It was just the bay, the sky, multitudes of shorebirds and me.

As I paddled through the mouth of Weeks Bay I saw cormorants and pelicans along with wintering ducks and gulls flying, floating and feasting in the brackish water. Moving further into the bay I noticed something floating ahead. It looked like a pelican but it wasn’t moving. The closer I got to it the more concern grew within me. It looked like the large bird was entangled in debris. When I slowly and quietly glided up to the bird I saw with horror and sadness the situation.

What I thought was debris was actually one of its huge wings trailing behind it as this regal bird’s long bill hung in the water. Her wing was completely broken in two and the large bone protruded from feathers and skin.

As I glided up to the bird I sat down and eased closer allowing her to understand I was not there to hurt her. Being on a paddle board I had nothing with which to perform a rescue operation. Plus, did the bird want rescuing? The stress would most likely kill the beautiful creature given her weakened state. Not knowing what to do, I simply drifted with her and asked what she needed.

As we drifted together on the surface of the bay I gently spoke to her while asking for guidance from any angels that might be about. I decided to steer her to the sandy beach to see if she could exit the water. I knew this would be the only place I could attempt to capture her, if that was the right action for me to take.

Slowly we drifted to the remote shore. When we arrived, the pelican walked out of the water and stood, barely able to support her weight. I beached my board and continued sitting on it and asking what to do. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”

With great effort this magnificent bird crawled to a small bunch of marsh grass and laid down. When she got settled she breathed deeply a few times and her body relaxed. I went to a deep place within and knew that the only action called for was to allow her to die in the sunshine among the grasses and sounds of life on Weeks Bay. Any attempt at rescue would kill her at this point. She would be better served by allowing a quiet passage rather than a traumatic one.

So I sat on my board weeping quietly, asking for angels to carry her across the rainbow bridge. After her breathing slowed I gently pushed off from shore and gave thanks to her for being a teacher for me.

Sometimes the best action is to take no action.

The next morning I paddled back into the bay. As I paddled along the shore I saw her, white head laid across her brownish-gray back. I envisioned her last breath with long bill pointed skyward as she gazed into the sky from which she had fallen.

Grateful for the Small Things

Grateful for the Small Things

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Okay, so this juvenile bear isn’t exactly small, as the title suggests. Neither are the two others that are part of this family. The mother is huge and healthy and I am overjoyed that I spent time watching this precious family romp on my decks Thanksgiving night and a couple nights after that instead of being in some store getting pepper-sprayed while reaching for a $2 waffle iron.

In preparation for my upcoming move to Coastal Alabama I’ve been sorting through clothes and ‘stuff’ that I have accumulated in the past 5 1/2 years here in Asheville. While I’m grateful to have warm clothes to wear and a nice home in which to live and toys to play with, I find that the most important things can’t be bought…like spending time with my bear friends.

A few years ago I installed a small water garden to provide water for wildlife. One afternoon as the bears were playing around my home, a young one came up to the glass door where I was sitting with my camera and placed her wet paw on the glass where my face was peering out. I pressed my face closer to the glass and she licked the glass. I could almost feel the tickle of her warm, pink tongue on my nose as I giggled. What could be more joy than this? A $2 waffle iron? Hardly.

Last week I helped celebrate Micki Cabaniss Eutsler’s birthday. Micki is a neighbor here on the mountain and she was my first publisher. I met her shortly after moving to the mountain and our connection led to her company, Grateful Steps, publishing their 7th book, my first. I was able to tell Micki, at her party, how much I appreciate her mentoring me in the publishing realm and helping me believe in my abilities as a writer.

As I feel my time in these lovely Blue Ridge Mountains come to a close, I am mindful of the many people, places and animal friends that have enriched my life and blessed me with experiences that are forever woven into the fabric of my life, my soul. The visits from the turkeys, raccoons, flying squirrels, ‘possums, bears, hawks and song birds are gifts that cannot be bought. I consider these wild creatures my family and their well-being and health brings such happiness to me, such celebration!

We live in a time of change. A time when darkness is exposed more and more. Rather than dwell on the horror of it all, let us joyfully celebrate the light that comes and do whatever we can to see that it increases. For baby bears, friends, trees, the snow falling across the valley as I type this….I am grateful.

To learn more about my books and my work please visit Turtle Island Adventures. (No…the snow is light today…the image of Riceville Valley was taken last year…I see this every day as I walk…snow or green, it’s amazing!).