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All writings Copyright © 2008 OCEAN.
All photographs Copyright © 2008 Diane Buccheri unless otherwise noted. No portion of OCEAN's materials may be copied or reproduced
in whole or in part.
OCEAN, Fall 2007, Volume 4, Issue 16
A glimpse into this issue . . .
"Kindness." Kindness grows like ripples in water, spreading out, and out
. . . flowing so naturally, essential for life on earth.
Working to abate global warming in terms of ocean warming, Ocean Conservancy
and Ocean Revolution marine scientist Wallace J. Nichols' newest personal intiative is to stop ocean warming (www.stopoceanwarming.com).
The ocean is the most powerful force on earth, determining much of our existence here, and the existence of future generations.
As a new father, poet Josh Conklin relives the wonder of seeing the ocean's
might from the perspective of a small child. As a child, and now again with his child, he shares the ocean's wonder with new
eyes.
Kathryn Magendie remembers her very early experience with the ultimate power
of water. Determined to overcome her fear, she is moved: "The creek beckons to me as it seeks its way to the river, then creek
and river become one for their wild rush to the ocean." She kayaks the river, at first more controlled by the force of the
water, then as one with it, finding peace.
Seneca Hawk Elder Edna Gordon celebrates the spirit of the waters flowing
from the mountains past everything on land into the ocean, joining all as one, again. "Their movement is life, a stream of
life that is found in blessings bestowed our way."
Within the sanctuary of Baja's San Ignacio Lagoon, gray whale mothers adjourn
their migration to nourish and teach their young, preparing them to continue along the migration. Author and certified marine
naturalist James Michael Dorsey guides whale watching groups through the winter months. (www.bajaecotours.com)
Simply, with the few words of her Haiku, Christine Bruness washes the salty fog, quiet and thick, right
across the pages, through our senses.
In his TALE OF TWO WHALES, John Borchardt tells us the endangered northern
Pacific right whale population is larger than we thought; the northern Atlantic right whale population, however, continues
to decline dangerously, mostly due to injury from boats.
Of Charles Darwin's land of natural selection Melba Milak describes her
adventures experiencing the Galapagos Islands' natural, and unnatural wonders.
"No chasing, no splashing." Marlene Moon lives her mantra swimming with
dolphins off Mahaka's coast in the Hawai'ian islands. "A delicious wave of profound inner peace filled my entire being. The
moment was alive, filled with all that I ever wanted, all that I ever needed. Within and without, everything was present,
had always been present."
On the U.S. mainland's east coast, Jeannine DeHart and her young son are
saddened by the struggle, and probable defeat, of a seagull caught by a fishing net. Jeannine is profoundly touched by a surfer's
efforts to help the bird - an act of kindness in a time-paced society.
"Clarity is a gift learned by paddling through life." Kayaker and photographer
Laura Johnston (www.crowsviewphotography.com) is taken beyond herself by Alaska's natural beauty among stillness and peace.
"The spirit views the vast world outside of its body, like the disconnection of the spirit and body when we pass on."
"In dawn's wing-lift, when great gulls tell time, he rose to the east of
morning . . ." With poet Tom Sheehan's TRANSWORLD FLIGHT we feel the last seize of the heart and muscles, the passing. ".
. . she felt him newly forming over waters."
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| OCEAN WARMING by Diane Buccheri |
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“We are putting too much in, taking too much out, and destroying
the edge of the ocean,” says J, more formally known as Wallace J. Nichols, Ph.D, a marine biologist.
He was the first to track, by satellite transmissions, a sea turtle
swimming from Baja, Mexico across the Pacific, our world’s largest ocean, to Japan. She fed in the rich waters off Mexico’s
coast, and journeyed back home to the beach where her mother lumbered to shore and laid her eggs, as their ancestors have
done for 100,000,000 years. After 368 days of traveling with the Pacific currents, J’s beloved Adelita was caught in
a net and drowned off Japan’s coast, having swum more than 7,000 miles, just before reaching the beach to lay her eggs.
To learn how to help conserve and protect the eight endangered species
of sea turtles throughout the world, J’s studies include so many aspects of the ocean, including fishing, pollution,
habitat alteration and destruction, and beyond – to the exchanges between land and ocean, air and ocean, air and land.
“It’s all interconnected.”
Indeed. Since water’s molecules are attracted to one another
and bond easily, they are drawn together. Hence, rainwater and our wastewater join other particles and bodies of water -
the very littlest to the very biggest – and ultimately, are drawn to and join the largest body of water on earth, the
ocean.
Water entering the ocean from land carries and deposits minerals
and chemicals from land, including each and every chemical used and produced by mankind.
The ocean’s surface waters evaporate in our air, its salt
and minerals along with them. Where the ocean’s edge touches land, it nourishes the land and its plants and animals
with its salt, minerals, and its own plants and animals. And collects substances from the land – naturally and unnaturally
there.
Wind sweeps past the ocean’s surface, lifting its surface
waters, whisking up more of the ocean’s salt and minerals. As it passes over land, these fall onto land, rather like
raindrops, made from evaporated ocean water and land waters, do.
It’s one ongoing exchange; neither land, nor air, nor the
ocean is isolated. The constant give and take never ends.
Exhaust from our burning of fossil fuels to create energy rises
through the air, and falls to the ground. Ground waters and winds carry these massive, constant deposits across land, more
and more devoid of absorbing plants, into the ocean, and by air onto the ocean. The excess carbon dioxide accumulated in our
ocean mixes in the water, and is ingested by the ocean’s plants and animals through breathing and eating. The ocean’s
creatures are nourished, their lives are sustained, by the ocean and its plants and animals. Carbon dioxide is toxic.
OCEAN WARMING (continued - click here)
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| HEAVY WATERS by Katherine Magendie |
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The creek beckons to me as it seeks its way to the river, then creek
and river become one for their wild rush to the ocean — water will find water because it must, and human will find water
because it needs. My creek ends in the ocean, the ocean never ends. I sit on my porch looking out over the Smoky Mountains
rising ancient, full of misty mystery. My hands are wrapped around a mug of Deep Creek Blend Coffee, the steam rising up,
a tiny ghost. I sip, and the warmth fills me. Our log house, perched on a mountain whose thick woods, deep valleys, and hidden
hollows can misty-mimic the undulating sea, is in the clouds this morning; the vapors drift in, linger, and then float away.
I study the advertisement I hold, which displays a photo of a big-tooth-grinned
man kayaking, his arms are raised in triumph. I show it to my husband, my own grin stupidly plastered, and ask, “You
think your sister would like to do this when she comes to visit next week?”
He glances at the ad, says, “Hmmmm . . .”
“She said she’s been feeling fearless.”
“Hmmmm.” I fold the ad, press the crease razor slim,
and then stare at the edge, wonder if it is sharp enough to make me feel something other than the melancholy that comes around
to grip me when I least expect it. I try to pinpoint areas that need my care — am I feeling the slipping away of youth?
I am fifty now, but is that really so old? Am I frustrated over the novel that sits unpublished? The sickening sound of chainsaws
chewing trees? There are no answers; there is only the wind in the trees, the constancy of misty-blue-gray mountains, the
rushing of water — the call of a watery crying howl I often turn away from.
Roger says, “Look, the hawk’s back.”
I watch our hawk circle. I say aloud, “I wonder where he’s
been,” but I think, “Take me with you.” Then I enter the realm of the deep, that oceanic inner-space I sink
into alone. Down down I fall, land on the silty bottom, and stare up with open eyes through heavy layers of water, while the
waves crash and moan against sand. I am in the sea; the sea covers me, heavy heavy. My arms and legs float around me, my short
hair lifts from my scalp.
Roger calls to me, “Kat, where are you? Hello?”
I jet up, arms by my sides, kick my legs furiously towards the surface,
the sound of my husband’s voice muffled as the water presses against my ears. I am almost there before the current sucks
me back down. I gurgle, “I’m right here,” and water fills my mouth, as it did that time long ago.
HEAVY WATERS (continued - click here)
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| Galapagos Islands by Melba Milak |
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| Photograph Copyright Melba Milak |
I couldn’t believe it.
For years, when I was teaching music, I always hung a poster of
a blue-footed booby in my classroom. The caption read, “Keep The Beat.” The understanding of beat and rhythm is
essential in music education; we clapped and snapped to the beat; we walked and skipped and danced.
And now I was seeing, before my very eyes, a pair of blue-footed
boobies in a courtship ritual. The male raised first one turquoise blue foot, and then the other – much slower than
anything my students had done – much more serious and courtly. The female stood by quietly, enraptured by the attention,
I guess.
I was fortunate to visit two of the Galápagos Islands during March
2007.
Volcanic activity formed the islands four to five million years
ago; they are composed of basalt. The archipelago consists of thirteen major islands, six small ones, and forty-two islets
that are little more than large rocks surrounded by ocean waters.
Although the islands lie directly on the equator, the cold Humboldt
Current, flowing from northern Peru to southern Chile and extending up to one thousand miles out, passes by in the “hot,
wet” season, January to May, moderating the intense heat I expected. Still, the intense sun burned my lips even though
I wore sunscreen.
In 1959, the Galápagos were declared a national park. In 1964, the
Charles Darwin Research Center was established on Santa Cruz for scientific, educational, and protective purposes. The islands
were designated as a world heritage reserve in 1985 by UNESCO, and in 2001, the marine reserve around the islands was also
made a world national heritage site.
We landed at the airport on the tiny island of Baltra on airstrips
built by the United States military during World War II. “You will be disinfected when you arrive.” The warning
by my guidebook was not a foot bath in bleach, but a rather cursory look at my passport and payment of the $100.00 entry fee
per person, although the checked luggage may have undergone a more thorough examination.
The combination of care to protect the natural environment coupled
with a land stretched out to collect tourist dollars seems to exist throughout in a strange kind of symbiotic relationship.
GALAPAGOS ISLANDS (continued - click here)
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