Catastrophic Moult
When I was little I had a thing for elephant seals. I remember carefully cutting out a picture of two giant males in combat and pasting it on what would now be called a vision board when I was about 8 years old.
As fate would have it...or perhaps it's just that tricksy space-time continuum showing its true colours...a juvenile elephant seal has decided to spend his summer holiday on our local beach.
This lad is huge and utterly gorgeous. When I gazed at him this morning it took a lot of self-control not to lay myself across him and cuddle. For some reason he has traveled 2000 kilometers from Marion Island to have what is termed a "catastrophic moult" on Fish Hoek Beach. He will lie there for a month apparently and go without food as passersby and their dogs ogle him.
I reluctantly pulled myself away from his side and was almost immediately confronted by the alarming sight of a homeless man, with many rubbish bags full of possessions, pacing and ranting quite angrily to himself. Passersby were understandably nervous. I wasn't quite sure what to do either, but decided to see whether he would like to engage in conversation. He did. And it was really beautiful. I told him about the seal. He was clearly moved. He told me that he had always lived here and would love to see a dolphin some day.
It was a beautiful connection and we both felt better for it. This man is obviously undergoing a catastrophic moult of his own. He is laid bare for all to see. And I find that deeply moving. I'm aware and wary of romanticising his plight, but speaking purely from my own experience, vulnerability is possibly the truest state we can find ourselves in. It allows the mirror we find in everyone to reflect truth most clearly.
It's been a season of signs and wonders. I love it when that happens because the universe suddenly suggests a profound wisdom and even care at its heart.
As I shared some deep pain with a dear friend yesterday a waiter handed us our beautiful meals and tattooed clearly on his forearm were the words "Familie deel pyn," family shares pain. He too wore his heart on his sleeve and I'm so grateful to him and all the other brave souls who choose not to hide themselves away.
Even when it feels unbearable -- the loss, the pain, the difficulties insurmountable -- even when all appears to be lost, perhaps the catastrophe(s) are just an invitation to start again...again.
***
I visited our celeb seal this morning after not seeing him for a week thanks to hobbling about with a broken toe that put paid to my usual artillery against the onslaught of despair -- hiking & dancing primarily.
He is quite unrecognisable. His golden coat gone, now he lies there truly naked and unashamed. I had the joy of chatting to a marine biologist, Chantel, who studied Sting Rays in the Seychelles and has this cool Youtube Channel. She was watching over him in between helping the Shark Spotters with a project. She applied to spend the year on Marion Island but they were looking for someone more birdy.
Which reminded us both of the baby flamingo crisis this past week, much spoken of on the social networks, although apparently blown out of proportion. But then again, who can resist the plight of a baby anything?
As we chatted a large group of little kids arrived on a school outing. They all waved when Buffel waved, they all laughed when he puffed air through his impressive "trunk" and screeched with delight as he flicked sand over his back. I shed some happy tears witnessing this communion and Buffel shed some tears too. A terse German tourist interrogated her guide: "But why? Why is here? Alone?"
Out of the blue I find myself a foster mom to a litter of tiny kittens - this in collaboration with Sharon's Foster Furries. They are truly delightful and in just a few days even the wildest, most hissy of the four is deigning to be handled and even liking it. There is a lot we can learn from animals, for aren't we just animals with a lot more babble thrown into the mix?
At my writing course yesterday we wrote using prompts and were surprised by what we unearthed in the process. What was interesting to me was how things I dismissed as really not any good at all, were warmly received by the others.
After a long dry writing spell which has left me somewhat wretched I confess, I begin to remember that our job, as in life, is just to show up to the page. Heaven forbid we become our own critic.
The writing prompt "I opened a can of me..." led to this:
There was nothing left of me
but a splatter
of
coal
The taste was sweet on my tongue
It gritted between my teeth
As my dear Flow student and marvelous astrologer Ilona advised: a time of death (ashes to ashes dust to dust) is also a gift and call to rebirth.
Buffel will grow a new coat and, Inshallah, return to diving deep. These marvelous creatures can reach depths of 2000 metres and hold their breath for 100 minutes.
In the deep sea there is no light.
How he survives the pressure at that depth is beyond our understanding.
It would crush us to death.
 |
| Buffel our celeb Elephant Seal |
This lad is huge and utterly gorgeous. When I gazed at him this morning it took a lot of self-control not to lay myself across him and cuddle. For some reason he has traveled 2000 kilometers from Marion Island to have what is termed a "catastrophic moult" on Fish Hoek Beach. He will lie there for a month apparently and go without food as passersby and their dogs ogle him.
I reluctantly pulled myself away from his side and was almost immediately confronted by the alarming sight of a homeless man, with many rubbish bags full of possessions, pacing and ranting quite angrily to himself. Passersby were understandably nervous. I wasn't quite sure what to do either, but decided to see whether he would like to engage in conversation. He did. And it was really beautiful. I told him about the seal. He was clearly moved. He told me that he had always lived here and would love to see a dolphin some day.
It was a beautiful connection and we both felt better for it. This man is obviously undergoing a catastrophic moult of his own. He is laid bare for all to see. And I find that deeply moving. I'm aware and wary of romanticising his plight, but speaking purely from my own experience, vulnerability is possibly the truest state we can find ourselves in. It allows the mirror we find in everyone to reflect truth most clearly.
It's been a season of signs and wonders. I love it when that happens because the universe suddenly suggests a profound wisdom and even care at its heart.
As I shared some deep pain with a dear friend yesterday a waiter handed us our beautiful meals and tattooed clearly on his forearm were the words "Familie deel pyn," family shares pain. He too wore his heart on his sleeve and I'm so grateful to him and all the other brave souls who choose not to hide themselves away.
Even when it feels unbearable -- the loss, the pain, the difficulties insurmountable -- even when all appears to be lost, perhaps the catastrophe(s) are just an invitation to start again...again.
***
I visited our celeb seal this morning after not seeing him for a week thanks to hobbling about with a broken toe that put paid to my usual artillery against the onslaught of despair -- hiking & dancing primarily.
He is quite unrecognisable. His golden coat gone, now he lies there truly naked and unashamed. I had the joy of chatting to a marine biologist, Chantel, who studied Sting Rays in the Seychelles and has this cool Youtube Channel. She was watching over him in between helping the Shark Spotters with a project. She applied to spend the year on Marion Island but they were looking for someone more birdy.
Which reminded us both of the baby flamingo crisis this past week, much spoken of on the social networks, although apparently blown out of proportion. But then again, who can resist the plight of a baby anything?
As we chatted a large group of little kids arrived on a school outing. They all waved when Buffel waved, they all laughed when he puffed air through his impressive "trunk" and screeched with delight as he flicked sand over his back. I shed some happy tears witnessing this communion and Buffel shed some tears too. A terse German tourist interrogated her guide: "But why? Why is here? Alone?"
Out of the blue I find myself a foster mom to a litter of tiny kittens - this in collaboration with Sharon's Foster Furries. They are truly delightful and in just a few days even the wildest, most hissy of the four is deigning to be handled and even liking it. There is a lot we can learn from animals, for aren't we just animals with a lot more babble thrown into the mix?
At my writing course yesterday we wrote using prompts and were surprised by what we unearthed in the process. What was interesting to me was how things I dismissed as really not any good at all, were warmly received by the others.
After a long dry writing spell which has left me somewhat wretched I confess, I begin to remember that our job, as in life, is just to show up to the page. Heaven forbid we become our own critic.
The writing prompt "I opened a can of me..." led to this:
There was nothing left of me
but a splatter
of
coal
The taste was sweet on my tongue
It gritted between my teeth
As my dear Flow student and marvelous astrologer Ilona advised: a time of death (ashes to ashes dust to dust) is also a gift and call to rebirth.
Buffel will grow a new coat and, Inshallah, return to diving deep. These marvelous creatures can reach depths of 2000 metres and hold their breath for 100 minutes.
In the deep sea there is no light.
How he survives the pressure at that depth is beyond our understanding.
It would crush us to death.
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