Tag: Gulf of Mexico

Diamonds in the Web

Diamonds in the Web

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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!

To a Jellyfish

To a Jellyfish

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You rear up as I approach. Your head, blue-purple, follows me as I walk. I stop and kneel on the sand and observe you, as you ‘observe’ me. Your tentacles are blackened with oil. You bend and twist, as I move, as if to dance in some ballet of consciousness with me.

I reach a finger toward you, to make contact. You move to meet my finger. You have no physical eyes like mammals yet somehow you can sense me. I wonder if the wind pushes you. Maybe my imagination has run away with me. So I move again. You follow me. So now, you have my full attention.

 

 

I open my hand, a gesture of friendship, an opening of my spirit to yours. We connect without words or even thoughts. We reach toward one another, trying to gain understanding. I let go of thinking, for a while, and we exist in a state of grace with each other.

Then I think: What if everything we believe to be true about sentience and consciousness is really false? Humans have arrogantly elevated ourselves above everything else. Gigantic brains or gigantic egos? We think our ability to use tools propels us forward…sure it does…into things like development, exploitation, pollution. Yet, I don’t see you, oh beautiful blue-ballooned one, spreading toxins into our environment or even into yours. In fact, I believe humans are the only species stupid enough to destroy the very environment in which they live.

I open my hand, a gesture of friendship, an opening of my spirit to yours. We connect without words or even thoughts. We reach toward one another, trying to gain understanding. I let go of thinking, for a while, and we exist in a state of grace with each other.

 

Then I think: What if everything we believe to be true about sentience and consciousness is really false? Humans have arrogantly elevated ourselves above everything else. Gigantic brains or gigantic egos? We think our ability to use tools propels us forward…sure it does…into things like development, exploitation, pollution. Yet, I don’t see you, oh beautiful blue-ballooned one, spreading toxins into our environment or even into yours. In fact, I believe humans are the only species stupid enough to destroy the very environment in which they live.

 

What if we have it backwards? What if we are the lesser species, dumb asses so stuck in our egos that we destroy the place that gives us life? How does that exhibit intelligence? The wharf crabs seem to be perfectly content living under the plastic bag (that we created) coming out occasionally to eat tasty morsels washed up from the bay waters. Uncomplicated life. Living in the moment. No need to rush to Walmart to pick up the latest gadget for entertainment. They have no need. Everything they need is provided.

 

 

 

The next time I see a Great Blue Heron hunting, without a fishing rod, GPS, or sonar fish finder, I will offer my apologies for ever thinking I was smarter than she. We are bent on making our species extinct by forgetting our connection to the land, by forgetting who we are.

It’s time to remember. It’s time to wake up.

Dare to Look Closer–Update on the Gulf of Mexico

Dare to Look Closer–Update on the Gulf of Mexico

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Today was my first day back at the Gulf Coast since mid-September. After torrential rains last night, the day cleared off nicely and left a very beautiful afternoon. As I walked the beach at Gulf State Park Pier, I noticed many gulls and terns resting on the beach, rough water, hefty wind and a haze that happens when wind picks up salt spray.

Great news was coquina shells in the surf zone…ones that were alive and working to feed by burying into the sand. Last time I visited I saw no evidence of live coquinas at any beach. I was thrilled! Sanderlings were running up to the quickly-burrowing bi-valves trying to catch a meal before it disappeared. I was feeling very hopeful and excited for the ecosystem.

The blowing haze was not really bothersome. The beach is often hazy when the water is rough. I noticed slight bubbly, oily mousse on the water but not as much as I had seen before so I didn’t think much of it. Had I lapsed into the kind of person I blog about? That apathetic humanoid?

I decided to wander over to the sea oats and bury a crystal a friend had sent me to place on the beach as a gift to the Gulf, a token thank you and ‘get well soon’ gift. When I approached the sea oats I noticed they were glistening. Hmm. I took my fingers and pinched a blade of the grass and ran it the distance of it. Surprise, surprise!! I looked and there was a light coating of oil on my fingers.

It wasn’t dirt or mold. It was slick like…ummmm…like oil. It smelled slightly of oil. I remembered, while kneeling in the sand, hearing Rear Admiral Mary (GAG) Landry state back in June or July that they knew for certain that the oil could not become air born. Pardon me Mary, but it is air borne. Oh, but didn’t the government and BP say the oil is mostly gone? Gone meaning dispersed to the point where the wind can actually push it further inland, making it an airborne toxin? Oh, yes. It’s gone. Sure…GONE INTO THE AIR! If you, my reader friends, were under the impression that BP and the government told the truth well, don’t hold your breath…or maybe…DO hold your breath.

In addition to the oily mousse on the beach and in the air, I saw an old friend on the beach. I took images and video of this gull a month ago. His foot webbing is eaten away and his leg is broken and sticks out at an odd angle yet he is still alive, still flying and has learned to scratch his head with the floppy foot and leg. I noticed webbing in shorebird’s feet with holes in it when I was here in July, when the oil was at its thickest on the Alabama coast.

I wanted so badly to begin my week here with positive news that would make everyone sit back and have a big, contented sigh. Or maybe…just maybe…I was wanting to find everything magically restored like I keep reading on the press releases BP and the Coast Guard keep sending me. “Another 5000 square miles of the Gulf are open…eat more seafood.” And yes…there are improvements. Each time I return there are improvements. Yet what is happening to wildlife exposed to constant oil-ladden winds? What is happening to the clean-up workers who are in it 12 hours a day? What about people like me who wander the beaches?

I suppose my main question is why has mainstream media disappeared and left wildlife, the water, the plants, the air, and for God sake, the PEOPLE, as if everything is fine and all is well? I am so weary of hearing that it’s all good here on the coast. I want as much as anyone to be able to give all wonderful, happy news about the oil spill recovery. I want this precious, sacred land and water to be clean and pristine. I long for it, I weep for it.

Alas, it is a mixed report of positive news with serious concerns about the air quality and the eventual fallout for all wildlife, plant life and humans that live or visit here. In a year how many birds will be left on this coastline? Can they reproduce due to constant contact with contaminates and if so, what will be the genetic consequences their offspring will live with? What about fish and shellfish and marine mammals constantly exposed to this “low level” soup of crude oil?

I came back to my mother’s and showered immediately, not even taking the time to capture the beautiful Mobile Bay sunset beckoning from her front yard. I was far more concerned about removing the coating of toxins I was wearing.

Marking the Date

Marking the Date

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Yesterday was the six month anniversary of the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill Disaster. It was also the date of my first presentation on my new book, which devotes the last section of images and writing to the event. As I shared about my work at the Gulf during the heaviest part of the spill and my continued commitment to documenting the unfolding story there, interest from the group was keen. One of my deepest fears is that people will forget and return to status quo, foregoing the lessons the spill can teach us. This group wanted to learn more and their interest went beyond the allotted time for the event. People have a desire to be informed. This fact gave me hope.

Even though I’m visiting the coast monthly, I have not openly discussed my experience lately. Reading from my book and sharing images from July and August made the sense of trauma, of rawness return. Later in the day I found myself anxious, on edge, and reliving the trauma I felt while standing on the beaches watching ankle-deep oily sludge coat the pure white sand, killing everything it touched.

It was many weeks after the major inundation of oil that I realized I was experiencing symptoms of PTSD. Gradually I was able to work through them because I was aware and took steps to nurture beauty in my life, meditate, exercise, eat healthy foods. Yesterday I saw myself three months ago and knew I had healed a lot. But what about others? The people that live there, the animals, plants, water, sand/soil?

I return soon for another week on the Gulf Coast. My plan is to visit the seven sensitive land areas and immerse myself in observation of birds, animals, and daily functions of the ecosystems there. Sitting with a sick friend helps you learn more about their condition, right? So that’s my intention for this visit. I’m taking crystals people have sent as a gift of healing for the earth and with them, their prayers for restoration and health of the land, water, air, wildlife, plant life, and people.

As we look back on this event that continues to unfold, may we remember the 11 human lives lost and the countless lives of wildlife…sea turtles, birds, whales, dolphins, fish and microscopic life we rarely consider. May we remember as a way to honor them and to become honorable planetary stewards.

Gulf Coast Update–Day 1

Gulf Coast Update–Day 1

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It has been six weeks since I last visited the Gulf Coast. I have been documenting sensitive shore areas since May related to the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Disaster. Today I visited two of the seven Gulf beaches I have been collecting images and video on over the summer. One beach was polluted and the other appeared much cleaner.

First, I visited Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge. It was hit with a lot of oil and much of it sank just offshore. Monster dump trucks hauled tons of contaminated sand away and four track hoes dug into the tideline in an attempt to remove the oil that sank. Six weeks ago hundreds of blue crabs were gathered in the surf zone…behavior I’ve never seen before. Today, there were dead blue crabs in various states of decay washed up all over the beach.

There was a strong smell of crude oil on the beach and oily mousse was in the water. Sanderlings and other small birds were foraging for food in the oily mousse. There were not many birds on the shore there but some of the ones that were present exhibited strange behavior. Sanderlings allowed me to get very close to them (unusual) and many were laying down (unusual).

I cracked one of the dead crabs open and the inside was black. I’m making a guess here but I’m pretty sure it was oil. Last time I was at the Gulf I took underwater video of blue crabs. They were lethargic and not feisty like they usually are when approached. I saw none alive in the water today but many, many dead. The little shorebirds were eating the crabs, oil and all. I was saddened to think of how these toxins are spreading up the food chain. People ask me if I eat the seafood here…not any more. All you have to do is observe and do a little investigating to see that it’s just not a good idea to eat the wildlife coming out of the Gulf right now. It’s common sense.

My eyes were burning, my throat got raw, and I could taste the crude oil smell in the air blowing off of the Gulf. The waves were mixing in the oily mousse and I suppose some of the product was becoming air borne, although representatives from BP said that wasn’t possible. I could sure taste it today. As I stood there I thought how tired I was of smelling that nasty smell…then realized the birds and fish and other wildlife had been smelling or living in the toxic soup since May. I stopped my internal whining immediately.

My second stop was Gulf State Park Fishing Pier beach. A happy surprise was there was no crude oil smell, no oily mousse in the water and there were many birds along the shore. They even let me sit among them and take photographs and video. So they, too, allowed me to approach closer than usual. The air smelled only of salt and I breathed it in ravenously. I could taste only salt on my tongue at this beach. How wonderful.

This image is from the beach at the state park pier today. The next image is from the pier in July.

I was grateful that one area appears cleaner and healthier, although appearances can be deceiving. I saw no coquina shells in the surf zone or any kind of live shellfish along the shores today. This is an important food for many creatures so the outcome for wildlife is yet to be determined. Stay tuned for more.