LJ Idol Season 8 Week 4 - A Heritage of Vision
o/` "And don’t you know the life that lives
Within the silent hills
Is just as rich and beautiful
And just as unfulfilled
As man with all his intellect
His reason and his choice
Oh, who’s to say the nightingale
Has any less a voice
The silver dolphins twist and dance
And sing to one another
The cosmic ocean knows no bounds
For all that lives are brothers
The whippoorwill, the grizzly bear
The elephant, the whale
All children of the universe
All weavers of the tale" o/`
-- "Children of the Universe" performed by John Denver
Sometimes we forget where we belong in the universe, forget that everything is connected to everything and that each and every living thing has its place and purpose.
This past weekend I took a mini-vacation down to Tampa so that I could meet a friend and, incidentally, visit the Florida Aquarium. I'd last been in 2003 when Mr. Shapeshifter had been sent by his company to the business conference which would eventually win them the benefits contract for the State of Florida. It had been impressive then and they hadn't completed many of the new exhibits. This time, he couldn't come but I'd taken Diagenou and Dorie with me; she wanted to sketch the creatures and he wanted to interact with the sharks and the sting rays. It would be, I thought, a simple day's family entertainment. In the back of my mind, I suppose I'd always considered myself enlightened and I understood such an outing to be an educational as well as fun experience; I just didn't think that I had any education left to absorb.
Arrogance, utter human arrogance!
We're a conscientious family; we recycle our trash and re-purpose many thing which would ordinarily have ended up as junk in a landfill. We've begun growing our own food and started preparations for converting to solar power and getting off the grid. Re-purpose, recycle, reuse: those are the buzz words of community consciousness and, in particular of our nature oriented religion. We'd left most of our land standing in its natural state and taken measures to protect the water table when most of our neighbors were clearing their acreage. We'd tried to leave as small an ecological footprint as possible under the circumstances. Still, I'd never given much thought for the reason behind the existence of such prevalent features as retentions ponds, swales, and wildflower medians. I'd left the native plants intact mostly as a measure of my own importance: look, I'm an environmental conservationist and I'm ever so much smarter than you!
It doesn't mean anything if you don't understand it. Doing something blindly is still doing wrong.
My re-education began on the paved walkway leading up to the aquarium. The parking lot wasn't paved; it was gravel surrounded by pines, oaks, and other beneficial trees. Several areas contained catchments for rainwater, swales, and retention ponds. I peered down into the first pond and, finding no trash in it, curiously read the sign. Turns out that, when properly used, these retention ponds help keep the wetlands clear of human pollution while providing habitat for a variety of animals ranging from minnows to frogs to alligators, shore birds, and wading birds. The entire area surrounding the aquarium had been designed with city beautification, habitat preservation, and wetland conservation in mind. The gardens looked much like the acreage surrounding my home, but I thought we could do better. We didn't always pick up the trash which fell out of the vehicles and sometimes we left things lying around which could potentially harm the ecology if the chemicals got into the water table. No one picked up after the dogs and that sure as hell was being washed into the surrounding tributaries and drainages.
I'd left the habitat intact, sure, but I didn't understand why I'd done so or what the various plants and animals contributed to the surroundings or to one another's well being.
Diagenou wanted to study the botanical tags on the plants longer so that he could catalog some of the species we have at home and plan more accurately which native species could be planted with the existing flora in order to enhance the ecological balance. "We do this stuff already, it doesn't matter why," I told him. He thought me impatient to visit the aquarium exhibits but the truth was, I was getting cranky. The little voice in the back of my head whispered again that doing something thoughtlessly still wasn't the right thing to do, but I shut it back in its box and mentally slammed the lid shut.
On the ground floor the Florida Aquarium has a large touch tank filled with Southern and California sting rays as well as bamboo sharks. You stand on ledge or at the pool's edge, extend two fingers into the water, and you can gently stroke the sting rays in their 'safe' zones or pet the sharks. The last time I'd been here the friendly little creatures had crowded around my outstretched hand and rubbed against me like friendly cats; I couldn't reach them at all this time. Instead, I encouraged Diagenou and Dorie to approach the tank. The sharks came to Diagenou first; a rapturous look and a a brilliant smile lit his face as three or four of them twined around his wrist and bumped him as though they were friendly cats. One or two of the smaller sting rays glided across Dorie's hands, crossed over, and then whipped back. I'd been afraid maybe the creatures would avoid them, but animals seem to sense those who love and understand them.
I must have had a sad look on my face because Diagenou stepped away from the tank and put a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you call them?" he asked. "They might come closer."
"Have you gone absolutely nuts? I'm not going to give people a real chance to stare at the crazy old bat in the wheelchair hollering at the sting rays."
"Don't do it aloud," he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. "Call them."
They're sting rays, invertebrates with a brain the size of a pea. I found it hard to think that anything like that could feel emotion or would care about the emotions of a single human being. Still, I found the notion intriguing; after all, the docent had said that the touch tank provided enrichment for the creatures and why would they need that if they didn't feel something?
Hey, I thought, feeling completely and utterly stupid. Hey, guys, can you hear me?
Nothing truly amazing happened. No sting ray leaped into my lap and no real...words...came. Instead I caught an echo of love/gratitude/joy accompanied by an odd sensation, as though something were being sounded against both body and soul and then bounced back into the tank. I wondered if the sting rays communicated with sonar or a similar process but the docent didn't know. "We don't really know much about them," she admitted. "They're still being studied so we can learn."
That floored me and really made me think. I mean, here we are in the 21st century claiming that every corner of the earth has been mapped and charted. We have all this technology to tell us about the world in which we live and yet...how many times in the month did I come across articles about new or previously unknown species? How many species of common creatures --- meaning creatures everyone would recognize --- had I read about in which there was little or no data about their lives? I recalled, from a lecture I'd given, the fact that the scientific community still isn't absolutely certain how many chambers a camel's stomach possesses or how they process their meals or whether or not they're ruminants. And the snow leopard...we'd just watched a documentary on AnimalPlanet the night before which mentioned that almost nothing was known about its life, habitat, or or ecology. Add the sting ray to that list, I guess.
Something was happening in the tank. Most of the sting rays had come to where I sat and the larger ones were cruising the side with their flippers out of the water, slapping noisily to get my attention. The docent gasped and said, "I've NEVER seen them do that for anyone!" We tried an experiment; I went to the other side of the tank and 'called' again. Same results --- sting rays flocking to swim in front of me, flipping their fins to get my attention. "I'd like to see the horseshoe crab more closely," I murmured and reinforced it with a thought.
Shy, but will come out. Words this time, or at least picture images and suddenly I had two or three tapping the glass in front of me.
I must have sat there communing with those oceanic creatures for at least two hours. If there were other exhibits I saw that day, I couldn't tell you about them. I remained flabbergasted, stunned by a concept I ought to have known all along and had taken for granted. Everyone loves what they call the big, sexy North American predators: the wolf, the eagle, the owl, the cougar. But how many actually give thought to the 'uglies' --- a grouper, a catfish, an octopus, a sting ray, a jelly fish? They're all part of the same ecosystem we inhabit. Just what gives us the right to decide which creatures are worth honoring and which are not?
There's a sting ray fetish on my altar now among Horse, Coyote, and Raven and I understand, at last, the real reason why I insist on some of the things we do around here which every pagan 'ought'. It's not about proving what a wonderful human being I am any more. It's about assuming my natural place in the ecosystem without shoving anyone else out of it or over the edge.
Within the silent hills
Is just as rich and beautiful
And just as unfulfilled
As man with all his intellect
His reason and his choice
Oh, who’s to say the nightingale
Has any less a voice
The silver dolphins twist and dance
And sing to one another
The cosmic ocean knows no bounds
For all that lives are brothers
The whippoorwill, the grizzly bear
The elephant, the whale
All children of the universe
All weavers of the tale" o/`
-- "Children of the Universe" performed by John Denver
Sometimes we forget where we belong in the universe, forget that everything is connected to everything and that each and every living thing has its place and purpose.
This past weekend I took a mini-vacation down to Tampa so that I could meet a friend and, incidentally, visit the Florida Aquarium. I'd last been in 2003 when Mr. Shapeshifter had been sent by his company to the business conference which would eventually win them the benefits contract for the State of Florida. It had been impressive then and they hadn't completed many of the new exhibits. This time, he couldn't come but I'd taken Diagenou and Dorie with me; she wanted to sketch the creatures and he wanted to interact with the sharks and the sting rays. It would be, I thought, a simple day's family entertainment. In the back of my mind, I suppose I'd always considered myself enlightened and I understood such an outing to be an educational as well as fun experience; I just didn't think that I had any education left to absorb.
Arrogance, utter human arrogance!
We're a conscientious family; we recycle our trash and re-purpose many thing which would ordinarily have ended up as junk in a landfill. We've begun growing our own food and started preparations for converting to solar power and getting off the grid. Re-purpose, recycle, reuse: those are the buzz words of community consciousness and, in particular of our nature oriented religion. We'd left most of our land standing in its natural state and taken measures to protect the water table when most of our neighbors were clearing their acreage. We'd tried to leave as small an ecological footprint as possible under the circumstances. Still, I'd never given much thought for the reason behind the existence of such prevalent features as retentions ponds, swales, and wildflower medians. I'd left the native plants intact mostly as a measure of my own importance: look, I'm an environmental conservationist and I'm ever so much smarter than you!
It doesn't mean anything if you don't understand it. Doing something blindly is still doing wrong.
My re-education began on the paved walkway leading up to the aquarium. The parking lot wasn't paved; it was gravel surrounded by pines, oaks, and other beneficial trees. Several areas contained catchments for rainwater, swales, and retention ponds. I peered down into the first pond and, finding no trash in it, curiously read the sign. Turns out that, when properly used, these retention ponds help keep the wetlands clear of human pollution while providing habitat for a variety of animals ranging from minnows to frogs to alligators, shore birds, and wading birds. The entire area surrounding the aquarium had been designed with city beautification, habitat preservation, and wetland conservation in mind. The gardens looked much like the acreage surrounding my home, but I thought we could do better. We didn't always pick up the trash which fell out of the vehicles and sometimes we left things lying around which could potentially harm the ecology if the chemicals got into the water table. No one picked up after the dogs and that sure as hell was being washed into the surrounding tributaries and drainages.
I'd left the habitat intact, sure, but I didn't understand why I'd done so or what the various plants and animals contributed to the surroundings or to one another's well being.
Diagenou wanted to study the botanical tags on the plants longer so that he could catalog some of the species we have at home and plan more accurately which native species could be planted with the existing flora in order to enhance the ecological balance. "We do this stuff already, it doesn't matter why," I told him. He thought me impatient to visit the aquarium exhibits but the truth was, I was getting cranky. The little voice in the back of my head whispered again that doing something thoughtlessly still wasn't the right thing to do, but I shut it back in its box and mentally slammed the lid shut.
On the ground floor the Florida Aquarium has a large touch tank filled with Southern and California sting rays as well as bamboo sharks. You stand on ledge or at the pool's edge, extend two fingers into the water, and you can gently stroke the sting rays in their 'safe' zones or pet the sharks. The last time I'd been here the friendly little creatures had crowded around my outstretched hand and rubbed against me like friendly cats; I couldn't reach them at all this time. Instead, I encouraged Diagenou and Dorie to approach the tank. The sharks came to Diagenou first; a rapturous look and a a brilliant smile lit his face as three or four of them twined around his wrist and bumped him as though they were friendly cats. One or two of the smaller sting rays glided across Dorie's hands, crossed over, and then whipped back. I'd been afraid maybe the creatures would avoid them, but animals seem to sense those who love and understand them.
I must have had a sad look on my face because Diagenou stepped away from the tank and put a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you call them?" he asked. "They might come closer."
"Have you gone absolutely nuts? I'm not going to give people a real chance to stare at the crazy old bat in the wheelchair hollering at the sting rays."
"Don't do it aloud," he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. "Call them."
They're sting rays, invertebrates with a brain the size of a pea. I found it hard to think that anything like that could feel emotion or would care about the emotions of a single human being. Still, I found the notion intriguing; after all, the docent had said that the touch tank provided enrichment for the creatures and why would they need that if they didn't feel something?
Hey, I thought, feeling completely and utterly stupid. Hey, guys, can you hear me?
Nothing truly amazing happened. No sting ray leaped into my lap and no real...words...came. Instead I caught an echo of love/gratitude/joy accompanied by an odd sensation, as though something were being sounded against both body and soul and then bounced back into the tank. I wondered if the sting rays communicated with sonar or a similar process but the docent didn't know. "We don't really know much about them," she admitted. "They're still being studied so we can learn."
That floored me and really made me think. I mean, here we are in the 21st century claiming that every corner of the earth has been mapped and charted. We have all this technology to tell us about the world in which we live and yet...how many times in the month did I come across articles about new or previously unknown species? How many species of common creatures --- meaning creatures everyone would recognize --- had I read about in which there was little or no data about their lives? I recalled, from a lecture I'd given, the fact that the scientific community still isn't absolutely certain how many chambers a camel's stomach possesses or how they process their meals or whether or not they're ruminants. And the snow leopard...we'd just watched a documentary on AnimalPlanet the night before which mentioned that almost nothing was known about its life, habitat, or or ecology. Add the sting ray to that list, I guess.
Something was happening in the tank. Most of the sting rays had come to where I sat and the larger ones were cruising the side with their flippers out of the water, slapping noisily to get my attention. The docent gasped and said, "I've NEVER seen them do that for anyone!" We tried an experiment; I went to the other side of the tank and 'called' again. Same results --- sting rays flocking to swim in front of me, flipping their fins to get my attention. "I'd like to see the horseshoe crab more closely," I murmured and reinforced it with a thought.
Shy, but will come out. Words this time, or at least picture images and suddenly I had two or three tapping the glass in front of me.
I must have sat there communing with those oceanic creatures for at least two hours. If there were other exhibits I saw that day, I couldn't tell you about them. I remained flabbergasted, stunned by a concept I ought to have known all along and had taken for granted. Everyone loves what they call the big, sexy North American predators: the wolf, the eagle, the owl, the cougar. But how many actually give thought to the 'uglies' --- a grouper, a catfish, an octopus, a sting ray, a jelly fish? They're all part of the same ecosystem we inhabit. Just what gives us the right to decide which creatures are worth honoring and which are not?
There's a sting ray fetish on my altar now among Horse, Coyote, and Raven and I understand, at last, the real reason why I insist on some of the things we do around here which every pagan 'ought'. It's not about proving what a wonderful human being I am any more. It's about assuming my natural place in the ecosystem without shoving anyone else out of it or over the edge.