Sea turtle patrol is one of my favorite summer volunteer efforts. Actually, it’s more than that. It’s my time in the cathedral of sunrise on the shore. Every venture onto the white sand to look for mother sea turtle tracks is an opportunity to commune with the sea, sky, sand and wildlife found in and around the saltwater.
And while all of that communing is incredible, amazing, relaxing, and awe-inspiring, time on the beach, with no other humans, gives me time to commune with my deepest self. It’s almost as good as being underwater on scuba or in the water with humpback whales or manatees.
Nature is my cathedral. It’s where I see Spirit manifested so powerfully, so beautifully. The dance of life is so evident here where saltwater meets earth…the convergence zone of watery existence and land-based living. The sound of the surf is the hymn for this time of contemplation and celebration.
Finding a mother sea turtle’s tracks is a bonus, the proverbial icing on the cake. Each encounter with great blue herons, sanderlings, willets, dolphins, tiny just-hatched mullet, crabs, coquina shells, sand, sea, sunrise, clouds…always gifts that are received with a grateful heart.
“Do you see over yonder, friend Sancho, thirty or forty hulking giants? I intend to do battle with them and slay them. With their spoils we shall begin to be rich for this is a righteous war and the removal of so foul a brood from off the face of the earth is a service God will bless.” Thus spoke Don Quixote in the novel written in the early 1600’s.
Equipment removing tar mats from Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge Summer 2010
There are times when I feel very much like Don Quixote. He might not have doubted his sanity but I doubt mine as I work to bring light to the environmental issues facing all of us. It feels like an unrealistic, impractical or even impossible goal. It may be noble but sometimes it seems completely unrealistic and perhaps even delusional.
The goal I set for myself is to be a bridge between nature and humanity. A bridge that raises awareness, increases communication and ultimately helps human and non-human life.
I believe the only way to help the planet is to help humans connect with…fall in love with…nature. This love will create compassion, care and wise stewardship. But there are days when it just feels as if the windmills…or oil rigs…or congressmen…or CEO’s…..really are hulking giants that will continue to destroy our Ocean planet…no matter how many crazy people like me write, photograph, document, sing or raise awareness through positive action.
There is no Sancho friend on this journey with me so at times the journey seems lonely. Yet today, as I cycled through the backcountry of Gulf State Park, I was reminded that humans are a part of nature. Every plant, animal, insect…everything is connected like diamonds in a web. So therefore, I am never alone. And neither are you. Perhaps our greatest error is to think we are separate, alone, divorced from that which sustains us.
For the past nine years I have dedicated my life to working full-time to help people connect with nature through writing, photography and videography. Living off of retirement funds and investing in equipment, book publication and travel to document unique places or species and to present programs to anyone who will listen, I have many times doubted my sanity. Why not just relax and forget this work?
Because…..Love knows no boundaries. I came into this life to make a positive difference and even if I’m tilting at those proverbial windmills, at least I am doing something.
Latest version of the cover of my new book
The past couple of days have been challenging and pesky doubts have arisen. But when I checked my mailbox today I had another partner for my new book, Manatee Mindfulness, with a note from my friend that said, “You’re doing great work Simone! Rock on!”
Perhaps I’m not delusional after all. I’m thankful for the reminder from sweet friends! And from nature that reminded me today of the web of life that connects all life to this Ocean planet. We are always connected, never alone.
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!!
Sea turtle patrol is one of my favorite summer volunteer efforts. Actually, it’s more than that. It’s my time in the cathedral of sunrise on the shore. Every venture onto the white sand to look for mother sea turtle tracks is an opportunity to commune with the sea, sky, sand and wildlife found in and around the saltwater.
And while all of that communing is incredible, amazing, relaxing, and awe-inspiring, time on the beach, with no other humans, gives me time to commune with my deepest self. It’s almost as good as being underwater on scuba or in the water with humpback whales or manatees.
Nature is my cathedral. It’s where I see Spirit manifested so powerfully, so beautifully. The dance of life is so evident here where saltwater meets earth…the convergence zone of watery existence and land-based living. The sound of the surf is the hymn for this time of contemplation and celebration.
Finding a mother sea turtle’s tracks is a bonus, the proverbial icing on the cake. Each encounter with great blue herons, sanderlings, willets, dolphins, tiny just-hatched mullet, crabs, coquina shells, sand, sea, sunrise, clouds…always gifts that are received with a grateful heart.
