I sat. Barefoot and cross legged upon the Golden Earth. The vast expansion of granite crumble stretching nearly as far as my blue could see, until… On a sharp curve golden met green, and together, sand and forest tumbled into sea.
The waves of turquoise swirled and tossed about, as pure white ripples, frosted every peak. I licked lips, dry from a full day’s walk under the yellow sun. I tasted salt. Both salt in the air, and salt on my upper lip, a beaded miixture of hard-earned sweat and stinging tears.
To my side, waddled a black and white sea bird. Creating form to the ideas of philosophers that had run through a cord from my pocket to my ears, all afternoon. For what is, “black” or “white,” truly? A mere concept we, as humans, or Gods, or animals… whatever we are, constructed to explain or reason our socially constructed, so-called “instinct” to divide. What created and labeled "color" anyway? Aren't we are all just one of the many hundred shades of Grey?
My naked fingers and toes tighten in the crisp ocean evening wind. Pulling the lengths of my pants which match the forest, and the cuffs of my plaid, which match the greeting of ocean to sky in the distance, down to further comfort my extremities, I continue to write.
In front, between ‘me and the sea,’ not 15 feet ahead, basking in all his naked glory, lies a fur seal… His gigantic head resting on a sun-bleached log. He patiently lies. When I first came upon this seal, I gasped, thinking he might be lifeless. With his head gently propped upon that driftwood, and his flipper draped across his body, he appeared to be at peace with his final resting place.
As I stepped closer, shielding my watering eyes from the western-setting sun, I saw his deep, steady breathing. His thick, long whiskers being blow about by the breeze. His red-auburn fur, glistening in the beams of light pouring from the sky. He looked soft. He looked calm. He radiated a powerful presence, in which I stood, for a long, long time… Simply watching him. Observing such a great, powerful animal, right before my eyes. Not two feet in front of me.
He was as real as the crumbles of once-granite ocean cliffs beneath my raw and blistered feet. I didn’t have to touch him, to know this. I didn’t have to disturb his slumber, to experience him as fully as I experience laughter with a cherished friend. I had entered his world, and I was captivated by it.
After a long while of simply observing him, of breathing in the sanctity and quietness of that moment... That moment in which I felt so small, so insignificant... As if I had stepped into another dimension where I experienced what it was like to be an animal in the food chain that did not think they were the top, simply because they could sharpen rocks into spears that pierced other animal’s souls… Or blow rocks out of tubes that cause blood and despair. I was on his turf, and I was awed at the majestic peace Nature exposes, when we simply respect her, in turn.
After that moment, he shuffled a bit, rolling to the right. As he adjusted to his side, possibly for a more comfortable sleep, one big, dark eye opened, and looked directly at me. Shaped like a moon cut directly in half, and emitting waves of exhaustion and fatigue, he began to check me out, eyeing me with a half-committed apprehension.
I took one step backward, acknowledging to him, I had no intent of harm. I held very still, as we continued to stare into each other’s eyes, the difference in species making it impossible to really “know,” what the other might be thinking. But the oneness, the sameness, in the vibrational energy, that exists in all things, told us both, we were alright. That we could look upon each other, in all our many differences, and peacefully experience the other, in a way that would not harm, but rather deepen each of our understandings, of the others species.
We stared at each other for a long time. The only sounds being the beating of the wind-blown waves, crashing against the foliage-covered cliffs. The whistling of the winds ripping through my fire-colored hair. After several more meters of shadow creeped toward us upon the granite beach, his eyelids slowly began to flutter open, and shut. For, like all living creatures, he desired sleep. I backed a few more feet away, further acknowledging my respect for him allowing me to linger in his presence, and planted myself on the sand.
Other than the black and white penguin-resembling bird to my right, we were the only two visible creatures on that beach. Sitting in silence for quite some time, I watched him, as he peacefully slept. So still. So calm. Soaking in every ray of sun, he hardly moved. The gentle rise and fall of his magnificently large chest was the only indication of his aliveness.
I watched how still he was, and began to contemplate how infrequently still the human animal is. How often, do we allow ourselves to simply lay naked in the sun, the rise and fall of our chest keeping rhythm with the spinning energy of the Earth, and rest. I would wager, not often enough.
How often, do we allow ourselves to be alone with warming rays of sunlight, or raindrops falling from a cloud-filled sky… Listening to whatever lesson Nature is trying to teach us in that moment.
Watching this fur seal, in all of his calm… I made another commitment to myself. That never will I be so out of touch with the dust and dirt of the Earth I came from, that I do not feel the bare soil beneath my feet daily. That I will remember: nature heals. For nature is an energy we are born with, and one that concrete buildings and lit up screens easily steal away.
The moment was so sacred, it nearly felt invasive to pull out my green composition notebook and pen, scrawling away, trying to capture the moment in a way that I could remember the sense of calm. He was much too magnificent and glorious to capture by photograph. Some of the philosophers I have been listening to have asserted that energy can be captured, even in photographs. I know many cultures, specifically ones who are still connected with their indigenous heritages, believe that to take a photo without permission, is to almost “steal ones soul.” I couldn’t photograph him, it simply did not feel like good karma. Thus, I snapped a photo of the beach to the right, where no visible animals lay.
The Abel Tasman Golden Bay area is absolutely stunning. I would walk every inch of it if I could. I am so grateful for my many experiences in this land.
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... And then, not a few days later, I spent the day of my birth on the Wharariki Beach in the Golden Bay, and came organically across a clan of sea pups, who were splashing and flipping with delight in a tide pool near the ocean. I approached nature once again in all her glorious energy, and watched with bright eyes and a laughing face.
These sea pups wanted to include me in their fun, they nibbled on my toes and splashed out of the water toward me, beckoning me to join them. They bit my boots that lay on the ground near my naked feet, they splashed and stared me straight in the eye with playful humor. They did not know or understand to be afraid of humans.
All the humans there respected them, on their turf, and it was a beautiful sight to see. Because of this, they acted in their natural, playful way, and fully involved us in their carefree fun.
Animals are only fearful of other animals by learned experience. If we have experiences of only natural, peaceful, respectful encounters, we grow with an ability to trust.
I want to learn to trust again, and play peacefully with other humans, so that they, too, experience trust and delight.
I feel blessed.
X Rachel