Whales are back in my dreams. It all started somewhere in the dark, rainy night when storms passed through washing everything clean. In the dreamtime I found myself at my brother’s barn. A large alligator was strolling by (evidently they do stroll) and decided to come inside the barn with me.
Not fond of close contact with alligators, I picked up a large stick and tried to hit the alligator but the bony, armored plates underneath the thick, lizard skin made the stick bounce off him. Since that didn’t work I simply stopped reacting in fear and began to talk to the alligator. He understood that he and I couldn’t share close quarters and thus moved out of the barn and continued his walk.
I awakened briefly and smiled in that half groggy/half awake place. Fear had been dealt with properly. Perhaps it was the Buddhist studies that helped me communicate with reason instead of knee-jerk fear and violence.
Back in the dreamtime I found myself floating in the Ocean with whales. I was in deep communion with them as I hovered with them, weightless in the salty sea. Peace. Amazing peace.
Another dream segment…but this time with musicians I know. The setting was the upper room of a venue that had very unique ways musicians “played.” Sort of the Circ de Sole of musicians. I didn’t know The Mulligan Brothers could fly or that Willie Sugarcapps could glide with grace across the floor on magic skates. In the dream I was videoing them and posting on Facebook.
Finally, I was back on the Ocean looking for whale blows. Gazing out into the horizon I saw the misty, white exhalation of a humpback whale. It was close enough that I could smell the fishy breath, that salty incense that delighted me a few weeks ago when it enfolded me.
I am not certain how to interpret the musicians “playing” in my dream nor how my future and humpback whales will be interwoven. I am certain of one thing though: I am a whale dreamer.
Today as I was cycling through the backcountry of Gulf State Park, I reflected on how much this beautiful conservation area has meant to me throughout my life. The recent threat to close the majority of Alabama State Parks by the governor prompted an inner exploration of how the park’s past and mine are interwoven.
It was such a lovely morning with blue sky, low humidity and temperatures in the 70’s. Pedaling through live oak forests, pine forests, marshes and swamps I felt so fortunate to be able to live close enough to enjoy the trails. And I thought how people who live near parks scheduled to close will lose their special places that perhaps they have enjoyed throughout their lifetime.
My first memory of Gulf State Park was swimming in Lake Shelby as a toddler. The dark, tea-colored water always scared me, even with my trusty rubber ducky. It’s still a popular place to cool off on a hot summer day.
Me as Gulf State Park Naturalist with one of my favorite winter friends who appreciated my love of organic foods.
My summer jobs in high school and college were at Gulf State Park with the naturalist program, at the campground and at park headquarters. After completing my undergraduate studies at Auburn I was hired as park naturalist. My passion was educating people about the beauty and sacredness of over 4000 acres of land and water, protected from encroaching development. But my frustration grew as money, greed and politics were always placed over conservation and protection, even with a great park superintendent trying to maintain balance.
When my daughter was born we lived in Gulf Shores and enjoyed the beaches, lakes and trails even when she was very young. And after moving away, I always wanted to visit the park and take her so she would know it…know its treasures.
Emily at Lake Shelby
So many memories of the park are connected with my daughter. Much of what I wanted to pass along to her as an environmental ethic began in this state park.
I took Emily and Kevin’s engagement photographs in the park
Many milestones of my life have been celebrated at this beautiful place and today, as I pedaled through forests of live oaks and white sand, I remembered many wonderful times with joy…tempered with sadness for people who could lose their special state parks due to the governor robbing them…robbing us…of some of the most sacred places in our state.
John Muir said, “Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.” “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”
He was born in 1838 and worked his entire life to create protected areas such as Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Mt. Rainer and Sequoia. I have thought of him often after discovering the plans the governor has for our state parks. How long will voting residents allow this kind of behavior to continue? Perhaps his next move is to open public jewels such as our parks for fracking….or worse.
“When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will we realize that one cannot eat money.” Cree Proverb. We think it’s not possible. We deny that it could ever happen. But it is happening and the assault is being led by people we elect to serve us and to protect our resources.
Gulf State Park Summer 2010
Note: Today it was reported that the governor has put a stay on closing the parks May 1st. A stay of execution? He is looking for funds in other areas. Why….WHY!!! is conservation always the very first department to be de-funded? In the grand ‘scheme’ of things it makes absolutely no sense.
I stood on the shore of the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge, early summer 2010 with tears streaming down my face. I had just called the hotline to report oil on the pristine, sugar-white sand. I thought that finally people would awaken and forge a new path of care and love for this Ocean planet. Five years have passed and the fervor to find and extract oil, at any cost, has escalated. And there are more spills worldwide, more toxic wastes generated by fracking operations and more earthquakes near fracking zones. The Atlantic coast is being opened to offshore drilling. The Arctic is open for drilling. Politicians are systematically trying to dismantle protected areas in states and federal lands.
Gulf of Mexico today
As I sit on the sandy, Gulf beach watching the chocolate-colored waves, at least there is no benzene smell or globs of fizzing crude oil washing ashore. The dark water is from recent heavy rains. The salt breeze carries the smell of incense, an offering to the spirits of this magnificent body of water. I ask for forgiveness on behalf of all humans.
Common Loon resting on the beach this afternoon
I reflect on John Muir’s life, one that was dedicated to preserving sacred places of unparalleled natural beauty and the success that came from his unrelenting love of nature. He saw the Divine in nature and viewed it as a direct reflection of God. Places like Yosemite, Sequoia, Grand Canyon, Mt. Rainer, Petrified Forest are a small sample of areas Muir helped preserve. He petitioned Congress for a National Park bill and in 1890 it passed.
Photograph Summer 2010…Shell Oil
“The radiance in some places is so great as to be fairly dazzling, keen lance rays of every color flashing, sparkling in glorious abundance, joining the plants in their fine, brave beauty-work–every crystal, every flower a window opening into heaven, a mirror reflecting the Creator.” John Muir.
Photograph Summer 2010 Gulf State Park Pier
“Keep close to Nature’s heart, yourself and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean from the earth-stains of this sordid, gold-seeking crowd in God’s pure air….Don’t lose your freedom and your love of the Earth as God made it.” John Muir.
Photograph I took Summer 2010. It reminds me of a woman’s body and so I call it the Rape of Mother Earth
Lately, as I’ve read about seemingly endless assaults on nature and attempts to sell it to the highest bidder for fossil fuel and about sonar testing that deafens cetaceans, sentencing them to death, I have become increasingly disturbed. The grief and despair I felt during the year I documented the oil disaster has been touched and the wound opened again and again.
Photograph taken Summer 2010 Orange Beach, Alabama
I wrote this in August 2010:
“This morning I sat weeping for the birds, oysters, shrimp, crabs….for us all. As I breathed in the stillness of the dawn I felt sadness that we have collectively created such imbalance on this beautiful planet. Inhaling, exhaling…pausing to touch the grief within me….how did it get so messed up?
We have become so dependent on practices that destroy our world, there is no easy way to stop them. The oil industry is woven into the fabric of life in Louisiana along with the Gulf’s bounty. Maybe the problem began when we considered only what could be produced from the Gulf.
But it goes beyond the Gulf Oil Spill Crisis–way beyond to the collective intention to consume, to conquer without regard for what it does to the planet that, quite literally, gives us life. Where did this short-sighted way of thinking begin?
I weep for our ignorance and the destruction it keeps in motion. I weep for political polarization that puts power on a pedestal over compassion and caring. We are lost in fighting battles that pull us apart and weaken us.
When will we stop and breathe together in silence? When we will awaken from our slumber and join hands to work to save our planet, to save ourselves?”
Common Loon friend that shared the beach with me today as I reflected on the past five years
Today, almost five years later, the same questions still haunt my mind every day. When will we stop and breathe together in silence? When we will awaken from our slumber and join hands to work to save our planet, to save ourselves?
Yet there is hope for there are still people who care, who love Nature and understand that humans are part of it, not above it. There are many who understand the necessity for living in balance and who grasp that the mindset of ‘more at any cost’ is no longer a valid way to successfully exist. We sell our own souls when we auction nature to the highest bidder.
Photograph from Summer 2010
So how can we stay positive? Hopeful? By reaching out to each other in love and by treading as gently as possible on this sacred Ocean planet. And practicing simple, yet collectively powerful steps such as these: turn off lights not in use; don’t use disposable plastic bottles; use water sparingly; adjust the thermostat two degrees and save energy and money; recycle; re-use; opt out of the mindset that new electronics must be purchased each time a new version is released; get by with less ‘stuff,’ buy locally-grown foods’ celebrate the beauty of nature each day; participate in efforts to make a positive difference.
Photograph today at Gulf State Park. During the oil disaster this area was saturated with fizzing, oily sludge
Now is not the time to give up. Now is the time to celebrate beauty found in nature and in human hearts everywhere.
We left our mooring on the Silver Bank early this morning and it feels as if my heart is being torn from my chest. I sit on the flying bridge listening to Whales Alive through my headphones. A rainbow arcs across the sky. So many emotions, so much love and gratitude course through me. The building music mixed with whale song and poetry narrated by Leonard Nimoy matches the graceful and powerful movements of the whales in the distance.
As our ship moves ever-closer to land I see lob tailing by a baby and mother whale. How precious to see life expressed in these gigantic gentle beings so beautifully.
Now an adult begins fin slapping with the brilliant white of the fifteen foot long pectoral fins acting as beacons of light against the cloudy sky. It was as if two angel wings reached for the heavens and each thunderous slap on the Ocean’s surface a call…but for the whale I am unsure of the meaning. For me each fin slap is an explosion of energy and a reminder, “See this! Hear me! Pay attention! Goodbye! Thanks for visiting! Come again!”
Off in the distance a whale is breaching repeatedly…over and over and over…joy exploding from the depths and I am sobbing now. The music of Paul Winter builds as the whale song crescendos and I find myself lost in a world of music of humans and whales. Such harmony, such power.
Flying fish glide silver against the indigo, liquid light of the Ocean. They go bouncing from wave to wave, sailing through troughs of the moving sea. Such beauty.
This experience of being with my humpback sisters and brothers has taken me to a place within myself that is deep and silent, still. After a week with whales I still find myself at a loss for words for the depths of emotions they have brought forth from my depths. I don’t know how I will integrate this week with my life. Of this I’m sure, I am changed. Transformed.
The sky at the horizon is light blue and grows in intensity of blue as my gaze wanders upwards. Small, white clouds dot the sky–puffy delights of cottony, flat-based moisture-laden beings.
I hear a shout from the bow. DOLPHINS!
I carefully hurry down the two flights of stairs to find several of my two-legged friends from the past week cheering as 10 spotted dolphins ride our bow wake. We stand and gaze over the side and watch the acrobatics of these sleek and lovely creatures as they leap, surf and frolic. This lifts us all as each of us has expressed feelings of sadness at our magical time together with whales and each other comes to an end.
It feels as if my life suddenly makes sense but I have no idea where it goes from here. I simply know that something is happening that was unlocked that came from surrender to childhood dreams. Perhaps as children we remember the path we dreamed with angels, while floating in that amniotic sea.
The song of the humpback called me many years ago and finally I heard it in real time, in person. It is my intention to listen deeper to what they are singing. Not with a scientific mind but with the eyes of my heart.
——–
Even though words frustrated me as I wrote each day of my experiences with humpback whales, I hope in some way I was able to convey to those interested readers the sacredness of this experience. It is my desire to return often as a friend and support to the whales that call the Silver Bank home…and to think of them daily with respect and love.
Special thanks to Tom Conlin whose dedication to the humpbacks of the Silver Banks helps them remain safe and protected in their calving and breeding waters. And to his crew of Aquatic Adventures.… Lorenzo, Denise, Brandt and Lisa thank you!! And to the Crew of the Turks & Caicos Explorer II…JF, Mark, Jane, Pipa, and Mia thank you!!
The juvenile came right up to me…have no idea if I got photos or video but it was so close I saw the soft, gray of the face, the deep folds of skin and the eye looking into my eyes. It was within ten feet of me. So beautiful. So deeply profound.
Then later lob tailing by mom and baby, breaching with both, fin slapping. Amazing….AMAZING!
There was such a sense of profound peace when floating above the mom and calf. It is as if all the secrets of the deep are carried within her and I can witness these truths, this wisdom that is beyond anything I’ve ever known.
As I watched exhalations carried by the wind I smelled the fish wondrous whale breath. Perhaps I’ve slipped over the edge…over and over the edge.
Mother and juvenile humpback practicing their lob tailing
I stood on the small boat photographing mama and baby with rain softly running down my face mixed with salty tears. I thought, I am loved (lob tail from whales) I am cared for (another lob tail). I am supported (thunderous SLAP!! with those flukes). Such sweetness.
This morning as I stood on the dive deck observing the rainbow, mother and juvenile humpbacks, tears also came. So deeply did I feel that everything in my life is moving in the right direction. I realized the more I surrender, the more opportunities arise. My love for the Ocean is deep and has been a guiding spark since I was a child and begged my parents to allow me to order (for free) the Jacques Cousteau book (which I still have).
Mother whale fluke with our boat, Turks & Caicos Explorer II, in the background
Afternoon
We saw one mother and baby briefly in really deep, rough water. It was an in-water encounter but wasn’t long as mama didn’t settle and it was difficult for us to hold a position in the rough seas. We were outside the protection of the reef so I don’t think anyone complained when we re-boarded the tender and headed back inside the reef.
Our sister boat with the other half of our group.
The rest of the afternoon I stood on the side of the small boat and watched for whales. Deep in thought, I rode. It gave me time to reflect and prepare for leaving this magical place tomorrow morning. I kept hearing the first part of D.H. Lawrence’s poem, Whale Weep Not. “They say the sea is cold but the sea contains the hottest blood of all, and the wildest and the most urgent.”
Soft-encounter with mother and baby
I stood riding the waves from my perch on the boat with tears pouring down my cheeks and the ocean splashing on my left foot. I felt in perfect balance and so happy, so incredibly happy and joy-full. Such yearning within to spend more time on the Ocean, in the Ocean in the presence of whales.
__________
Whales Notes: A soft-encounter is where humans are allowed to float quietly in the Ocean observing humpback whales. Touching is not allowed. The quieter and more still, the better the encounter. Mothers rest and sleep suspended in the water column and babies come up to breathe. If the group of humans stay together and within sight of mama whale, it’s best. Juvenile surfaces, breathes, circles and goes back down to tuck under mama. Because their buoyancy isn’t perfected, the babies need mom’s stable body to help them stay submerged.
Entanglements are deadly to whales and other sea life. Some fishing practices use large lines and traps and once a whale is entangled in these heavy lines, it can cause major problems for them. Notice the large scar on this mother whale’s tail. Luckily she was freed and now has a happy, wild baby born this year. Other whales are not so lucky.
Whales are back in my dreams. It all started somewhere in the dark, rainy night when storms passed through washing everything clean. In the dreamtime I found myself at my brother’s barn. A large alligator was strolling by (evidently they do stroll) and decided to come inside the barn with me.
Not fond of close contact with alligators, I picked up a large stick and tried to hit the alligator but the bony, armored plates underneath the thick, lizard skin made the stick bounce off him. Since that didn’t work I simply stopped reacting in fear and began to talk to the alligator. He understood that he and I couldn’t share close quarters and thus moved out of the barn and continued his walk.
I awakened briefly and smiled in that half groggy/half awake place. Fear had been dealt with properly. Perhaps it was the Buddhist studies that helped me communicate with reason instead of knee-jerk fear and violence.
Back in the dreamtime I found myself floating in the Ocean with whales. I was in deep communion with them as I hovered with them, weightless in the salty sea. Peace. Amazing peace.
Another dream segment…but this time with musicians I know. The setting was the upper room of a venue that had very unique ways musicians “played.” Sort of the Circ de Sole of musicians. I didn’t know The Mulligan Brothers could fly or that Willie Sugarcapps could glide with grace across the floor on magic skates. In the dream I was videoing them and posting on Facebook.
Finally, I was back on the Ocean looking for whale blows. Gazing out into the horizon I saw the misty, white exhalation of a humpback whale. It was close enough that I could smell the fishy breath, that salty incense that delighted me a few weeks ago when it enfolded me.
I am not certain how to interpret the musicians “playing” in my dream nor how my future and humpback whales will be interwoven. I am certain of one thing though: I am a whale dreamer.
