| Wednesday, November 3, 2021 | | Jumping and Leaping (and Praising God) | For months now, I don’t bounce out of bed in the morning. I drag myself up. I can feel myself carrying invisible weights that sometimes settle in the back of my neck or the top of my head or the bottom of my stomach or dead center in my chest. Some of those weights are concerns I have for others who are going through similar sorts of health or life challenges, and some of those of course originate right here in our daily round. I must ask Pete, “Are you okay?” dozens of times every day.
None of this means I am not—at the very same time—grateful. It astonishes me, that I can feel worry and trust, concern and gratitude, fear and faith, seemingly in the same breath. Some days I feel as if I am going more crazy than other days. What helps is remembering the ways I am most nourished spiritually and emotionally—and then choosing those actions.
Today I looked up the definition for inertia. It means exactly what I thought: a lack of movement or activity. In physics, inertia “describes a property of matter by which something that is not moving remains still”—or, if moving, moves at the same speed and in the same direction UNTIL… some other force affects it. Just typing all that out provoked a big, melodramatic sigh. Inertia and I got acquainted decades ago, but it is not my friend.
One aspect I love about photography is its terminology, and how much photographic language applies to life choices. By my choice of subject, and lens, and focus point, I can make very different photographs in the same general area. So it is with my life. I know, for instance, that time outside will elevate my mood and break inertia’s grip, but I have to choose to make the effort to get there, at those times Pete really IS okay enough for me to leave the house. I have to become my own “affecting force.” Put another way, I have to give God something to work with. Looking at photographs I have made in the past, or seeing what others have found to inspire them can help only to a point. Ultimately I just have to get up and get going in order to be present to the life that is happening all around me all the time.
The last time Pete’s daughter MaryAnn came to stay for a few days, his other daughter Faith and I drove up to Carova. In my journal that morning, I asked for horses by the water (we saw two, briefly, a real treat in October), a successful 4wd trip (the beach was in decent shape at low tide and uncrowded enough that I never got forced out of my chosen “ruts”), and “something special for me.” Well, I got my something special and in spades.
Driving back down the beach, we saw two gals pointing offshore where a pod of dolphin were splashing. Turned out to the be the largest pod I have ever seen here. Longtime readers may remember that last January, right at the start of this new year, I had a life-list encounter with dolphin who came inshore and jumped and surfed high clean waves. (If you missed that post, look back in the archives on the right hand side and click on the entry for January 2021.) I said then how seeing those dolphin brought me joy. Now here we were, nearing the end of a challenging, grief-tinted year, and the dolphin were back. As in January, they were splashing and jumping well offshore as the pod made its way south. We kept driving beyond them, and I hopped out and photographed, and then we would drive ahead of them again. All this time I had been sort of casually wishing they would do as they had done before, and come closer to jump in the waves. Finally, I got quiet, and serious, and I asked. And they came.
At first, a lone dolphin leapt completely out of the water, turning his pink belly in my direction as he repeatedly splashed and jumped in a rolling swell. When he finished, my tears welled up and spilled over like a breaking wave. All the emotion I had been holding in surged out, and I stood by the sea’s edge and sobbed. When I finally walked back to the truck, Faith asked why I was crying. So I had to explain—how overwhelmed I was, how in awe, how I had asked, and how the dolphin had come seemingly in answer. How I was holding grief and gratitude all at once. That would have been enough, but the dolphin were just beginning.
Over and over they jumped and surfed, singly, in pairs, and finally three at once. We came off the beach in time to watch the Hunter Moon rise over the ocean across from the lighthouse as a small family of dolphin cruised by just under the surface. A V of ducks or geese silhouetted against a golden sky flew past Currituck Light. All in all, a truly banner day.
As I journaled later about the whole experience, I heard a message something like this: next time, take some video and use a wider lens. Whoa, wait, next time? There will be a “next time”?? Then came assurances about my deep need of joy (and I know I am not alone, which is really why I am sharing all this in the first place) and that yes, there will be more encounters because I need the gifts those bring to my soul.
This past Saturday, I had a quick late errand to Walgreens. I came out to gorgeous light. Pete was settled in his recliner, so I called him (“are you okay?”) and was able to stay by the ocean through dusk. The waves were still high and clean but no dolphin in sight. So I called, using my best longing and intention. I asked for them to come to me again. When they came, I had switched from a long lens to a wider lens as the sky was aglow with the beginnings of a beautiful reflected sunset. As before, they started off splashing well offshore. I remembered my instructions: next time, use a wider angle, and take video. So I asked them to come closer and allow me to film them. They obliged, and the video is on my facebook page. A couple of those photos are included below, too.
I know that one of my gifts is my connection to wildlife, which flows out of the deep connection I feel to God Himself. What I have heard, over and over, is that I am just an example of the sort of connection God longs to have with every one of us. The ways that connection manifests will be unique to each one’s personality, talents and gifts, and abilities to receive. We are not cookie-cutter people. But I share all these adventures to hopefully inspire you to get quiet, however you best do that, and look beyond your own self, as fabulous as I am sure that is, to an Even Greater Source of Love and Hope and Strength and Peace and Joy – and then ask. And then listen. And then begin, or extend, the greatest adventure possible this side of heaven.
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click for larger image | At first the dolphin splashed way offshore. I could see flippers and flukes. This face was a treat. |
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click for larger image | Then one came! Dolphin bellies turn pink when they are excited or happy, in the same way humans blush. |
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click for larger image | Now we come to the repeated experience Saturday evening, near dusk. Light was beautiful, and once again the dolphin came. |
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click for larger image | This time they kept leaping out of the waves over and over. See my facebook page for the video! |
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posted by eturek at 1:44 PM |
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