This morning the wind was painting the clear blue sky with wisps of white–feathery clouds that floated overhead as I paddled my SUP board. While I heard evidence of humans, I saw no one. The sounds of traffic faded and my focus became the splashing of water droplets when they jumped as my paddle sliced the surface of the Magnolia River.
My mind needed time to slow down and process everything that has happened in the past two weeks…this entire summer. Cooler temperatures and lower humidity, heralds of seasonal changes, prompted me to reflect as I paddled.
When Hurricane Isaac passed south of our coast, we really didn’t have much to complain about compared to those who weathered a direct hit. But it did pose a problem for some very special beings, still incubating in their eggs buried under the white sand beside the Gulf.
As the waves roared to heights of twelve feet and the frothy water churned, the beach slowly disappeared along the Alabama Gulf Coast. Not all of it, but enough to begin to wash away sea turtle nests–loggerheads protected under the Endangered Species Act. As soon as Little Lagoon Pass bridge re-opened a few of us went to check on the unhatched nests. One was washing away as I crested the dune. I found a baby half out of her shell, washed on top of the dune. My heart sank. Two other team members arrived and we collected unhatched eggs and egg shells. Because of flooding, the babies were coming too soon but were coming never-the-less because they have a reflex that takes over when their nest is flooded. They were emergency hatching.
With howling wind and driving rain and waves that were shaking the beach, these premie turtles were making a break for it. Emotions within me were scattered just as the egg shells were after waves had eaten the nest and dispersed them. But there was no time to stop and connect with feelings because of the work necessary to save these babies. And we saved as many as possible. The experience left me raw and unhinged.
But today….this beautiful pre-autumnal morning–there was time to allow a space for everything I have experienced this summer. Joyous births of hundreds of sea turtles over the course of the past few months, connecting with nature-lovers and people who put wildlife first, night skies filled with shooting stars, laughter and more all drifted effortlessly through my mind. And challenges I’ve had surfaced as well. But everything that floated through my mind lazily moved by just as a piece of driftwood or leaf blown by the slight breeze.
This summer I’ve immersed myself so deeply with nature that trying to fit into a world of humans and machines has been challenging. I’ve wanted to simply allow nature to take me and teach me the instinctual wisdom that many of us (as humans) have forgotten.
Sea turtles have called to me for many years. I’ve collected art–like a raku turtle hatchling that sits on my desk or the art tattooed on my body–and named my business, Turtle Island Adventures, and had experiences with them while diving or walking along the shore. All of this feels like bread crumbs along my Path, leading me to this point….this place of remembering.
The language of the wind, the Earth’s heart beat, star energy and the ancient instinctual wisdom of sea turtles has filled my summer and I’ve never felt so in sync with my purpose. If I could have dreamed up this life, I can think of few things I would add to the experiences unfolding….maybe world peace and renewable energy instead of fossil fuels….two more things to dream up. Will you join me?
Today I was presenting a workshop on relieving stress through connection with nature. At one point participants were paired and were completing sentences given to them as cues. The room was lively as people shared about places they loved, animals and other nature-related themes. At one point I gave them the cue: What’s happening to our planet makes me feel…. The energy in the room suddenly shifted and it was quiet. Sad, depressed, scared….twenty-one individuals united for a moment by their concern about our world.
