Tag: nature

We Are Masters of Our Destiny

We Are Masters of Our Destiny

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Contrary to what corporations and governments want us to believe, we have the ability to change the world. How sad when we see ourselves as victims….to oil/gas prices, to toxic spills, to a degrading environment. Often I have heard friends say, “I’m only one person…I can’t make a difference, so why bother?”

We have the power to change the world by the choices we make. When we infuse our day with conscious choices, we are influencing the direction of life on our planet. Our choices add to uplifting of the world or its continued degradation.

Nobody ever promised it would be easy. If the mass consciousness is suffocated with fear and anxiety, it takes a strong will to see through this fog and choose a different way. Honestly, it’s much easier to follow the status quo; however, the only way to create change is to actually be the change we want. Taking personal responsibility for every decision, every choice, is a key to creating positive change.

So what will wake us from our collective sleep? What will shake us from the illusion that we cannot make a difference? Another oil spill, gas prices over $5 a gallon in the US? More cuts to programs that add to our civility so more war can be waged over oil in the Middle East? A growing economic gap in the US between the top 1% of wealth-holders and the rest of us? More oil companies (and coal companies…let’s not forget them) telling our government what to do and how high to jump?

WHAT WILL WAKE US FROM OUR SLUMBER?

Each of us has our own, personal tipping-point. Mine was the Gulf Oil Spill. I stayed intentionally and blissfully uninformed of many of the horrors surrounding me….environmental degradation, wars, worldwide population explosions….and on and on ad-naseum. I cared but I did not want to be too informed because of the pain it caused within my mind and heart. But then, BP created an environmental disaster that hit home, literally. And my wake-up call came April 20, 2010.

The past ten months have been difficult as I have witnessed, first-hand, oiled beaches and water, sick wildlife, dead wildlife, and far-too-few clean-up workers removing oil. And now, dolphins aborting their babies and dying in record numbers. The research I have done has only increased my struggles to deal with not only this disaster, but worldwide apathy to the plight of our beautiful planet. The only way I find inner peace and calm is to actively be part of the solution.

It takes ‘muscle’ to remain aware because it is painful to stay informed. Are we willing to work hard to stay awake, aware–conscious. The more of us that make that commitment, the greater our world will be. We are the creators of our destiny.

“What kind of world do you want? Think anything. Let’s start at the start. Build a masterpiece. Be careful what you wish for–History starts now.” Lyrics from “World” by Five for Fighting

Manatees

Manatees

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As I floated horizontal, on the surface of the water, I saw a mother and baby manatee in the distance. I remained motionless, hovering quietly, with my hands on either side of my video housing. I watched in amazement as they swam toward me. Could they be coming to me? Yes. They swam under me, rubbing their backs against my belly. Still, I remained motionless. No touching, nothing but giggles coming from my snorkel. Then a circle and the mother hovered to my side while the baby continued investigating my dry suit, my face, my hair, my fins. Finally, with no shyness whatsoever, the baby manatee kissed me on the mouth. Maybe it was my snorkel she liked or maybe the high-pitched sounds I was emitting (squeals of delight). It doesn’t matter why the baby chose to interact with me, I feel so blessed that she did.

Why such a feeling of blessing when I have had so many incredible encounters with animals in the oceans or on land? How could this be so special? As my heart was opening wider and wider while the baby was playing with my snorkel, my dry suit, my fins, I thought of the rarity of contact with such an endangered species. Estimates suggest that there are 5000 of this species of manatee left on the planet. What a wondrous moment then to have one learning about humans through me. I was an ambassador for my species. I wanted to show the best of what humans can be by showing respect, being quiet, not touching or feeling greater-than, but rather surrendering to the moment of play this precious one wanted to experience with me.

The ports on my housings provided the most intrigue for my friends…every manatee that chose to interact with me always approached my camera housing port. Some would put their eye up to it, turn around and place their other eye in front of it. They might nuzzle it with their mouth. Remaining passive, calm, quiet, and respectful was my intention and it proved to be challenging because I wanted to embrace these gentle, curious creatures with my arms. Instead I just kept cooing to them, telling them I loved them, giggling, and of course, filming them. My embrace for them came as waves of love flowed from my heart to them…aching for their survival and well-being.

Many manatees carry deep scars from boat propellers on their backs. Some even had scars on their front flippers. There are humans that are asinine in their relating to these slow, gentle creatures by splashing, chasing, poking, or otherwise harassing. They exhibit the worst of what being human means to wild animals. Some boat operators refuse to observe areas set aside as no-wake zones to protect manatees from fast-moving boats. And yet….manatees choose to interact with humans that show respect. It amazes me that they are still able to trust humans. Something I feel incapable of doing for the exact reasons expressed….and countless other violations against nature, against wildlife some humans, in their arrogance and ignorance, display.

Two days of being in the presence of these remarkable beings gave me much to think on. The lessons I take away will continue to unfold as I remember their eyes staring into my soul, their whiskers tickling my face, the soft noses and mouths exploring my cameras. Probably the most incredible moment was when I was laying on top of the water, both hands grasping my camera, and a baby tucked his head behind my arm as if looking for a place to nurse. (Manatee mom’s nurse their babies at the base of their flippers). How blessed I felt that this little one felt safe enough, as did his mother, to inspect this human and learn about the strange creatures who visit their underwater realm.

Gulf Coast–January 2011 Summary

Gulf Coast–January 2011 Summary

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My first day out, January 10th, yielded major oil at the surf zone. But this time in the form of a hardened shelf of crude. Recent winter storm waves had exposed the shelf and deposited oil from the bottom of the Gulf, according to a supervisor on one of the clean-up crews, on the beach. It was as bad as I’ve seen the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge since I begin documenting this disaster in May 2010. The only difference was it was 60 degrees cooler than the July and August temperatures that made it a living hell on the beaches with horrible smells; thick, gooey, melted petroleum coated sand and mats of oil floated in the Gulf then. Now at least it is hardened. It seems reasonable that NOW would be the time to remove the oil from the beach…right? But the clean-up crews are understaffed and sometimes not even present.

Two days later and sand, from a hefty north wind, had nearly covered the oil shelf. People might be tempted, in looking at this sight, to say, “It’s not so bad.” They just need to see what lies just beneath the surface to fully comprehend the amount of oil still present on the beach at the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge.

Ft Morgan beach had some small tar balls but nothing else evident. But understand this: It depends on the day you visit, the way the wind is blowing, and the strength of the waves to see the truth about the amount of oil on the beach. My two visits to the national wildlife refuge clearly proved that.

The day I visited Ft. Morgan the wind was out of the north at 35mph and the temperature was 41 degrees coming across Mobile Bay. Thank goodness the North Carolina mountain winters have taught me how to stay warm in such conditions. There was a fair amount of shore birds on the Gulf beach including sanderlings, brown pelicans, willets, ruddy turnstones, and gulls. It was heartening to see a nice-size bird flock at Ft. Morgan, especially since the oil-laden beaches at the wildlife refuge, 10 miles east, were nearly vacant of birdlife.

Gulf State Park Pier beaches had been, or were in the process of being, deep-cleaned. There was some light oiling washing up on the beach but not many noticeable tar balls. There were birds present, although not in the typical winters numbers I would expect.

The foot ‘issues’ I have been documenting were evident in one gull in the flock there at Gulf State Park.

On this trip I was able to spend one day enjoying the coastal treasures I grew up with. Romar beach had been deep-cleaned and looked pretty good. Very few birds were present but the water appeared quite nice.

Alabama Point and the Gulf Islands National Seashore provided me with delightful hours that nurtured my weary spirit. I thought, as I wandered along the beaches, how strange it was that an ecosystem still struggling to recover and heal could provide me with such healing. It was nice to spend time connecting with the raw, intense beauty of the Gulf Coast.

My visit was a study in contrasts. One beach was heavily covered in oil while another might look okay. There was bird life on some beaches while it was absent on others. It’s difficult to form much of an opinion from four days of beach visits but it was very telling to see so much oil exposed one day and almost completely covered two days later. The summary for my January visit is this: There is much that remains hidden about the oil spill and recovery…and I mean that on many levels.

A Day of Treasures

A Day of Treasures

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I was walking in a 35 mph wind while the thermometer hovered around 40 degrees on a gray sky morning. I felt the incredible life force around me, within me and within every creature, in the Gulf waters–even in the air. Making the commitment to document the oil spill and recovery has had one very positive effect on me: I have been outside more this year than I have in decades. Not every day has been pleasant and many have been physically and emotionally exhausting, but I have connected with nature in a very deep and personal way and as usual, nature has gifted me endlessly.

Today there were many gifts and the first one was the element of wind. The north wind brought moisture-laden air across Mobile Bay and buffeted me with full force as I walked along the bay beach at Ft Morgan. It was challenging to walk against it but when I turned around, it pushed me along…almost lifting me out of my boots until I felt air-borne between steps.

There was minimal surface oil on the beach apparent on the bay side of Ft Morgan but I realized that each day’s wind can deposit sand to cover oil or use its force to uncover what lies hidden. After yesterday’s discovery of large amounts of hardened oil just ten miles east of here, I felt a slight reprieve from the sadness of finding more oil on these sensitive land areas.

After walking a couple of miles along the Ft Morgan peninsula, I needed to thaw out so I drove back to civilization. The car ride thawed my chill so by the time I arrived at Romar Beach in Orange Beach, Alabama, I was eager to get back outside. The deep cleaning and grooming had removed all traces of oil on this beach…even the tiny tar balls were gone. The beach was once-again snow-white and birds had returned to enjoy its beauty.

Alabama Point had some tar balls but it had also been cleaned and the oil that was washed up was minimal or well-hidden. I noticed many sanderlings and gulls and so this beach reminded me of the typical winter beach experiences of years past where shores birds are numerous and the north wind flattens the Gulf into a beautiful, rolling body of water that appears to sigh as its golden waves roll ashore.

Finally, I visited Gulf Islands National Seashore at Johnson Beach in Florida. Many folks were working on the beaches, still cleaning up tar balls but the water there was clear and beautiful. The white sand reminded me of snow and I soaked up the peace found there among the dunes. I saw a flock of about 100 canvasback ducks on the sound side of the peninsula which a delightful treat.

As I walked along the water’s edge I expressed gratitude for the coastal recovery that is taking place. I grieved about areas like the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge that continue to be heavily oiled. But today, I was given many gifts from nature and I gratefully accepted them with a deep realization of the treasures we have along our Gulf Coast. I can think of no more satisfying work than to help protect such sacred places.

Caught in an Unholy War

Caught in an Unholy War

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As I was walking along the shore at Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge, I saw a layer of oil exposed from the incoming tide. I was photographing it when one of the four-wheelers stopped and the guy started calling out to me. Because of the wind I couldn’t hear him so I walked over to hear what he was saying.

He told me he was a supervisor from Crowder, the current BP contractor corporation providing clean-up on the Alabama Gulf Coast. Just today, he said, he found that particular layer of oil at the water’s edge. He had marked it with flags and had shown his crew, who he related wanted to immediately scoop it off the beach. As he was telling me about everything he and the contractors were doing to make the beach better, he stopped talking for a moment, looked down the beach and said, “Those wildlife officers are watching us.” “So what?” I replied. He went on to tell me that the wildlife officers employed by the US Fish and Wildlife agency did not particularly like the contractors. “Oh,” I pondered out loud.

As the contractor was driving off, I looked up and saw the most amazing clouds over the dunes. Like a magnet, they drew me in. While avoiding sea oats, I walked to the base of the dune and took a few photographs. I turned and walked back toward shore and the wildlife officers were wheeling toward me. In a friendly wave, I greeted them.

I had missed the signs professing the area was closed. Maybe it was the rapture of beautiful clouds or my foggy brain still in recovery from food poisoning Sunday night, regardless I was approached by both armed officers who asked if I had seen the signs. The signs are spaced at 100++ foot intervals along the dune line and I had wandered between two signs, no more than 20 feet into the ‘closed’ area.

Okay, of all the people who visit the refuge I’m the last person who would do anything to harm the environment or wildlife there. I’ve walked through 100 degree temperatures for miles through the center of the refuge to get images and video of the heavy machines hauling the beach away during the invasion of the oil. I’ve written passionately about wildlife and wild places and included my work from the oil spill in my recently published book, Place of Spirit. Not intending to do any harm but rather capture the beauty of this place was no excuse. I had entered the NO NO zone. But seriously. Not a warning or verbal reprimand? I wasn’t on the dune, was careful about where I stepped and had barely entered closed area.

When I explained all of this to the officers they said they had a lot of trouble with the contractors and so had to be very strict about anyone crossing the (invisible) line. Oh….so I was being made an example of for the contractors. And it worked. As the officer was writing me a ticket, a tractor driver came up and the officer stepped out of the way…INTO THE FORBIDDEN ZONE. I made a comment about being careful not to step into the closed area, with humor, and he realized he also was in the no trespassing area and so stepped back out of it while continuing to write the ticket…the $75 ticket.

As I walked back to my car I knew that in ‘normal’ times I would have received a verbal warning, not a ticket. I have no issue paying the fine. Each of those 20 feet cost me $3.75, a small price to pay for realizing just how stressed relations are between people trying to protect the environment and those who work for people who nearly annihilated the environment on the Gulf Coast. It seems that wildlife officers have it ‘in’ for contractors, some of whom are careless. And people like me, who adore nature and work diligently to document and share the seriousness of this on-going oil spill event (paying our own expenses) get caught in the middle of some unholy war between the good guys and those who work for the bad guys.

The contract workers are not the enemy Mr. Wildlife Officers (please tell your bosses). Neither are nature-lovers enraptured by beautiful clouds.