Nature Photography Archives - Page 106 of 114 -

Elders Enduring

By Simone Lipscomb | June 13, 2013

My last full day in Bonaire I rented a truck and drove through the north part of the island. As I was making my way toward Rincon, and then Washington Slagbaii National Park, I eased through Gotomeer. The narrow, one-lane road hugged the shore of a lake where flamingos waded along with other shore birds. It was beautiful with cactus lining the rocky landscape.

As I drove past a tiny island, I noticed the fence and shelter had been improved from last year. In fact, each year it seems to get more fortified and improved.

After passing it, I came upon an elder. His dark skin glistened in the heat and he motioned for me to stop. Yes, I was alone with few other humans around and yes, I had a backpack full of expensive Nikon photography equipment, part of which was laying on the seat beside me. But locals get rides from anyone who is willing to stop and give them a lift. I didn’t feel any fear as the man wasn’t carrying anything and was most likely in his 80’s. As a visitor to Bonaire, I have given rides to locals before and they are always very appreciative.

Before getting into the backseat of the four-door truck he asked if I was Dutch. “No,” I replied. “Do you speak Dutch?” he asked. “No, sir. I don’t speak Dutch.” “So…you don’t speak any Dutch?” he asked again. “No,” I answered.

He climbed in the backseat opposite me and shook my hand. His firm grasp was friendly and I knew it was right to stop and give him a lift into the small town, not far ahead.

He asked if I was American. I responded with a ‘yes.’ He told me he liked Americans and they always treated him well. Without any prompting he started telling his life story…or a bit of it.

Born on the island many years ago, he was subjected to forced Dutch schooling where the native children were not allowed to speak their own language and had to learn Dutch. He told me how difficult it was but it wasn’t so much the words he spoke as the way he spoke them that disclosed his lingering wound. I could feel his pain and struggle and sensed that he still carried distrust of the Dutch settlers who forced their rules onto local, native residents.

I knew of the Cherokee and other native tribes experiencing this sort of abuse in the United States but I had never met anyone who experienced it. Recently I watched a film called, Rabbit Proof Fence, about two Aboriginal girls who escaped from such a school in Australia. It was profoundly moving and gave me a better understanding of this kind of prejudice.

We soon arrived in Rincon. In holding John’s (not his real name) hand–as he thanked me and wished me a good day–I said a silent prayer and blessing for him and all native people who endured such prejudice and abuse. I also asked forgiveness for humanity’s capacity for cruelty.

We need to hear their stories and they need to see that we are listening, paying attention and understanding the mistakes that were made and most likely continue to be made somewhere on the planet.

The Wild, Wild Heart

By Simone Lipscomb | June 5, 2013

I rented a truck in Bonaire and drove up by myself into the national park. It was the first time in a very long while I had been there. Hot desert, cactus, rocks, dust ringed by turquoise and indigo ocean with large waves crashing against the shore–these are elemental energies at their strongest.

Structures built by humans are very few. What was built now stands in ruins, reclaimed by the sky and salt. Destined to always be reduced to the basic elements from which they arose.

The wild energy of the place invoked my inner wildness with prayers whispered in winds whipping through my hair. It bestowed a blessing with the warm fingers of solar energy touching my skin. Jagged rocks cut through any pretense, any boundaries erected to survive the insanity of humanity and I was cut open, my heart beat once more in instinctual rhythm, that cadence that is slow and grounded yet dancing with power and passion.

As I stood on a craggy cliff over looking the ocean I cried out to the sky, “Our world needs more instinctual energy, more awareness of elemental energy! We have forgotten the dance!” The cactus stood as guardians listening at attention, their reply the high-pitched whistle of wind through their needled arms. The wild parrots darting in and out of cactus answered me with their songs and calls. But the iguanas…they simply stared and waited…….the long silent stare that makes me a bit uncomfortable in my skin. It was as if they were asking, what are you going to do about this knowing that you know? Hmmmm?

The disconnect we collectively have from nature is destroying the planet. It is destroying us. If we dare to feel the beat of our wild, wild hearts we will never think it is okay to abuse the planet or any of its creatures….ever again. To heal the disconnect doesn’t require fighting and arguing, it simply requires each of us to reconnect with the part of us that belongs to the Earth. Then, from that bodily connection–that visceral connection–we will know what to do. The Earth will speak through us. She will rise up within us and heal Herself through us.

Still Room for Hope

By Simone Lipscomb | June 5, 2013

The morning began by a walk to the water before sunrise while the silver light of the waning moon still illuminated the sea. When the blue was still kissed with silver I stood, toes in sand, sinking into the soft substrate while warm, clear salt water kissed my feet.

In the quiet, when the birds were still considering their opportune moment to call up the sun, I breathed in the day.

As dead pieces of coral tumbled and tinkled in the rolling water, small bits of colored sea glass glittered amid the neutral tones of sand and coral rock. I began collecting them, gathering them into my empty tea cup.

I bent over in my sea glass meditation, in a sort of salutation to the morning, and in a moment of clarity gained understanding. I realized how broken litter–human garbage–was transformed into objects of beauty by the constant motion of waves working the sharp edges and shiny surfaces into something new and beautiful.

Many sins humans commit against our planet can still be righted. There is still time for us to collectively turn the tide and create something wonderful and healing. We can stop the assaults, poor decisions and mistreatment we have leveled upon the Earth and all of Her creatures, the land, water and air.

I smiled at the thought of a global awakening and realized the same metaphor applied to my life…to every individual’s life. The constant movement through changes and obstacles keeps refining us, inviting us to allow a deepening of awareness and an unfolding and strengthening of our talents and skills.

Each of us has the ability to become more beautiful, more effective in our walk on the planet. We can choose to remain broken or we can allow the process of transformation to change us into brighter expressions of our highest selves. There is indeed still room for hope.

When Technology Outgrows Conscience

By Simone Lipscomb | May 22, 2013

In my cross-training efforts the elliptical trainer provides an opportunity to catch up on TED talks. While I whirl and sweat I watch videos from these amazing talks and recently I’ve been viewing those related to oceans.

I watched three today and each one nurtured a perplexing subject that has been surfacing in my mind over the past few years. Today I heard a clear question whispered from the ethers: Is it really good to discover new sources of life and potential material wealth when human consciousness has not evolved at the same pace as technological development?

Shark caught and left to die on the beach. I asked the fisherman why he allowed the shark to die...'because they are dangerous' he said. — *Shark caught and left to die on the beach. I asked the fisherman why he allowed the shark to die…’because they are dangerous’ he said.*

As a species on the planet, we appear to be more at war with it than stewards of it. This is evidenced by the conflicts we wage on each other in our neighborhoods, in oil fields, in mountains hiding gold and other valuable metals, in our oceans. Exploitation is still the collective mindset of our species.

*Machinery at Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge trying to remove a large, sunken mat of oil during the BP Oil Spill*

Billions of dollars are spent on cancer research yet we haven’t understood and acted on the realization that what we are doing to the water, air, food sources are all contributing to the increase of cancer. The toxins we dump onto and into our planet are killing us and all life. But we, as a whole, stick to the mindset that more is better and profit at any cost is acceptable. The disconnect is clearly destroying us.

We have tried to conquer, control, manipulate our oceans, soil, energy resources and have failed with this mindset. Only when we apply principles of cooperation and respect toward each other, the planet, animals, plants, air, water do we create opportunity for balance and plenty for all.

*Our group from a week with Joanna Macy, our mentor who teaches how to stay sane while working to help the planet*

My hope is that before we discover marvelous, new, wondrous places, resources and animals to exploit that we step back, take many breaths and allow our sense of ethics and conscience to catch up with technology that we use daily to destroy the very thing that gives us physical life. It is time for us to learn a heart-centered approach to living and allow the blossoming of love within us to guide us rather than our ego-driven and self-centered desires.

When we collectively can reach across the self-created constructs that divide us related to race, religion, politics, and more then perhaps we will be ready to care for new and marvelous discoveries on our planet. Until then, let us cultivate responsible stewardship and unconditional love.

Staying Present with the Big Picture

By Simone Lipscomb | May 22, 2013

It was absolutely still when I pushed my SUP board out into the slowly flowing river. No wind stirred the air. There was not a ripple on the water’s surface. The warm, humid air hugged me as I began my warm up.

Clouds and blue sky reflected underneath me in the mirror-like surface of the river. It was as if I was paddling within the clouds and sky. This phenomena has happened before and it always puts me into a meditative state. Today I felt as if I was steering a barge in Ancient Egypt, working magically to travel through the sky on a boat.

And yet I was very present this morning. The slight hum of water as it curled around the carbon fiber blade and shaft was felt in my hands. Droplets of sweat formed at the base of my skull and followed every vertebrae down my spine. Somehow, in this altered state of meditative paddling, I was deeply aware of my body as well as the little turtle sunning on the stump, the pelican flying beside me, the osprey arranging a stick in her nest….the mullet splashing to my right. And then it hit me: I was paddling a straight path.

Now this might not sound like a big deal but over the past several months I have struggled with zig-zagging and noticed that one side zigged more than the other. I changed my board fin and changed it back. I micr0-analyzed my paddle stoke–entry, position, pull…everything and it got worse. The more I focused on it the more pronounced it became until I felt like my board was possessed by a drunken spirit.

In this morning’s state of hyper-awareness I thought to myself, what’s different? Why am I going straight NOW? And then I knew. I had been gazing into the far water and horizon as I paddled this morning…keeping my head up. Before I was watching my stroke, keeping my vision very close to the board and surrounding water and it created a ‘situation.’

Then I realized that my paddling mirrored my life quite perfectly. I have been frustrated and felt like I was going in circles with my work. I kept focusing on the many environmental issues of destruction, death, neglect without plugging into the bigger view. I believe it is important to own our grief and sadness and allow it to prompt us to take action. But we must keep the whole picture in mind so we don’t become overwhelmed or lost.

Then I had a dream where my friend Ray told me he would help me see the sea turtle tracks in the dark, that he’d walk with me. Since he’s working out of the country I chalked it up to it being just a dream. But then he emailed me writing that he was purchasing a set of night vision binoculars that I, along with the turtle team I’m a part of, could use. This is helpful when babies are hatching since we can’t use any lights and our job is to ‘see’ them safely to the water. If any wander off over the beach we can more easily find them now.

Later this afternoon, many pieces came together for me. I’m not alone in the environmental work coming through me. There is support that will help me see through the dark unknown. It may come in the form of a stranger commenting on a blog post or a friend providing fiscal support, book selling, photographs used to educate the public, a pair of night vision binoculars that will help me ‘see in the dark.’ The metaphor is definitely not lost on me.

The work of writing and photography is by nature a solitary business. It takes a tremendous amount of time to organize, stay clear and focused and now…complete a photography book I started a while back. It’s easy to get myopic vision and see only this little space and time around me. But when I take the time to look up, to look out, I see the big picture. The key is to dance in both places at once.