Tag: OCEAN

Precious Earth

Precious Earth

Imagine our Sun, in about 5 billion years, expanding into a red giant star. After it uses the hydrogen at its core, it will swell dramatically and engulf Mercury, Venus, and most likely Earth. Before then, the Sun will brighten gradually at about 1% every 100 million years. This will make Earth’s surface too hot for liquid water within 1 to 1.5 billion years. Imagine this, if only for a moment. The unimageable beauty here….lost.

That’s what I think of, what my heart aches about. It’s long after everyone I know dies and most likely long after humans exterminate ourselves from our toxic ways…emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual toxicity. But the mountains, oceans, wildlife, plant life…unimaginable loss of beauty.

With this ending of life as we know it a billion years or 365,242,500,000 days away, it makes everything here so much more precious, so sacred. And yet, since 1760, when the Industrial Revolution began, 266 years ago, we have systematically destroyed entire ecosystems. Between 1500 and 2004, 784 species have been listed as extinct. Over 160 species were declared extinct between 2010 and 2019. 2024-Slender-billed Curlew; 2023 eight different species of honeycreeper birds and eight different species of freshwater mussels. In 2020 31 species were declared extinct in a single update including several freshwater fish species and the Splendid Poison Frog. 2011…the Western Black Rhinoceros. The list goes on….

So, in other words, humans are doing quite a fine job of destroying life on Earth long before the Sun vaporizes all water on the planet. In fact, we have been speeding up the process by shifting from traditional energy to burning fossil fuels and creating massive deforestation, both of which release enormous amounts of greenhouse gases. Since 1850, this has increased atmospheric CO2 from 280 to 419 ppm, causing a rise in temperature. This creates climate instability which intensifies weather events such as droughts, wildfires, and floods. It’s estimated that switching from human and animal power to fossil-fueled machines established a 50 times faster rate of warming compared to previous natural variations.

Since I documented the BP Deepwater Horizon Oil Disaster  from April 2010 to April 2011, I have been keenly aware of the damage humans do to our planet. I felt shame at being part of a species that in its greed for more, more, more is destroying such a precious jewel of a planet—a rare place that we take for granted every single day.

Sunset Gulf Shores, Alabama 2014 with iPhone

It’s beyond my capacity to understand how humans, as a collective, can create so much destruction and not understand the consequences of our actions. Many of us are awake to the reality of how every action we takes has an effect, for good or bad. But the rape and pillage of Earth continues. More! More! More! is our chant and as more species are lost, more catastrophic weather events occur, more deforestation occurs, we are truly creating what we focus on. Though perhaps not the ‘more’ we wish for.

I didn’t intend to write a depressing essay on the death of Earth. My intention was to write something that somehow illustrates the depth of love I have for this planet and all life here. And yet, to do that, I must share what is at stake: beauty so profound, life so sacred, that even with astronomical observations over the past 100 years, we have found nothing like it within or outside of our solar system. That’s not to say it’s not out there somewhere. But so far, life as we know it exists here. Now. The depth of grief I have over our collective destruction of it is immeasurable. 

But when I journey into the grief, I find a depth of love and appreciation so profound, it lifts me into ecstasy. I remember looking a baby humpback whale in its massive eye as it swam past with its mother. I remember a sea turtle and I diving together, sharing a morning swim in Bonaire…a sea lion and I exchanging acrobatic play in the Sea of Cortez…a deer emerging from the forest, walking up to me, and licking my hand while gazing into my eyes…a juvenile manatee chewing my hair while its mother took my hand with her flippers and placed it on her heart…a baby manatee resting its head in my hand as tears of love filled my mask (and roll down my face as I remember now)…a spotted dolphin pushing against my body to help me keep up with the pod…fog hovering over the creek as sunlight created a golden color that transformed the world….a double rainbow filled with golden light that caused me to stop my car and dance along the side of the road with joy….the aurora as it illuminated the sky in Great Smoky Mountains National Park and caused me to laugh hysterically at midnight as the wind carried my voice up the mountain at Kuwohi…the bear emerging from the steep bank with his 350+ pounds and allowing me the grace to back up and allow him to cross my pass as my knees knocked…the snowfall in Canyon de Chelly that transformed a hike down the trail into a magic so powerful it forever changed me…the birth of my daughter that showed me what love truly is…all of these moments of beauty and countless more, come from an appreciation of beauty, a realization of how rare and unique life is and a willingness to feel the grief and choose love. Choose life. And do whatever I can to raise awareness of beauty and how freaking lucky we are to live on a planet that is a precious, rare jewel in the Cosmos.

Cosmic Whales

Cosmic Whales

A few weeks ago, in my muggle world job, someone mentioned seeing my book, Cosmic Whales: Mystical Stories from the Sea, in a local bookstore. She said she had no idea I was a writer and photographer. Sometimes I forget, too.

When I got home I picked up a copy of the book and began to read it. I remember being in Mexico cave diving when I was doing the final edits to it. I would return from being in the magical realm of the highly decorated underwater caves and would start work on reading the copy again. I read it outside, on the beach, where hundreds of tiny sea turtle tracks criss-crossed the beach from their hatch the night before. It was the perfect place to put the finishing touches on this book….one of my favorite creative journeys.

As I read through the book, I could scarcely believe I wrote the poetic prose that goes so deep into the beauty of the sea and whales, dolphins, manatee, sea lions, sea turtles…all birthed from personal experience with these amazing creatures. This book is a glimpse into the heart of the sea, into my heart.

I’m reminded of the creative mystic that resides within my soul that needs to stir the cauldron and pull out inspiration. My task then is to create space for her to dance words and sentences into being, to journey with her into the forests of these ancient mountains with my photography gear and let images come to life.

It’s time for a rebirth.

Mother and Calf Bliss
JB

JB

I didn’t know what to say. 

It took a while, but gradually it began to sink in and memories began to flash and emotions arose. Friends…Hans and Renee at Lulu’s with the surprise Freddy and the Fishsticks free show during the oil spill….Greensboro and the dive club—building and setting up a tiki bar, offering refreshments to strangers passing by…the concert at Auburn when I was attending college there…Raleigh and lightning so bad I thought we’d all die on the aluminum bleachers…Pensacola and my pal Milton…Jazz Fest in New Orleans…so many amazing memories of concerts, but that’s just a small part of the sweetness.

Jimmy Buffett was basically a home-town boy, from where I grew up, that used his smarts and talent to soar to the stars with ideas and creativity. He built a freaking empire of Parrot Heads and was able to capitalize on fun and sun and letting go of worries. He did something incredible with the life he was given. That’s impressive…and inspiring. 

As I reflected on JB today, I saw how his music is interwoven into the story of my life. And so many other lives. What a legacy to leave behind.

He brought an intense focus on loving the Ocean, one of my passions.  He championed manatees, as he supported Save the Manatee Club. He connected us to our Mother Ocean. 

(When I was documenting the oil spill along the Gulf Coast in 2010)

When I asked Siri to play Jimmy Buffett this morning this is what I heard, “Mother Mother Ocean, I have heard your call. Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall, You’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all.” That song was a reminder of my call to dive under the surface and experience the underwater world of coral reefs, humpback whales, dolphins…the salt has always been in my blood. It’s my favorite song written by Jimmy. (A Pirate Looks at Forty). 

Growing up on the Alabama coast, so much of the soundtrack of my life was JB’s music because I could relate to what he was singing about…the salt air, open water. His poet’s soul called to mine, and helped me walk the path of my heart.

I’m not saying I continued to listen to his music so much after I rounded 50. I didn’t attend concerts since the last one in Pensacola with my buddy, Milton. It became too much, too many people, too much chaos. The thing I love about his music wasn’t in the mass of drunken people. As I grew into middle age, I found his music became more of a foundation that led me to songwriters he worked with, so my musical horizons expanded and I met people like Will Kimbrough, who wrote with Jimmy, and creates amazing songs, and Mary Gauthier, who wrote Wheel  Inside the Wheel, one of my favorite ‘JB’ songs. 

It seems a lot of musicians are leaving us these days, yet they leave behind a legacy of music that continues to feed our souls and help us reflect on our lives. The reflection on my younger years seems to happen on a deeper level every time one of our legends crosses over into that endless place of dreams. Unwinding from where I am now, I journey back to growing up on the Gulf Coast, relationships, friendships…life choices that completely changed my life’s trajectory because I chose to live fully, jumping in with wild abandon. 

Congratulations JB on a life well-lived. And thank you.

All photographs by Simone Lipscomb, except the one of me and that was taken by my brother, Lance Lipscomb.

What Have We Learned?

What Have We Learned?

It’s been ten years today.

I was leading a night dive in Curacao and surfaced, tasting oil in my air tank. None of the others on the dive had that issue. And my air proved to be fine…but I tasted oil.

I hadn’t been watching the news, was unplugged from social media. Didn’t know until two days later, when I was in the Atlanta airport, that the BP Deepwater Horizon had exploded on April 20, 2010. Eleven men were killed and on the 22nd the rig sank.

After documenting the oil spill for a year on the Alabama Gulf Coast, I thought it would be the wake-up event that would shake the world. I was wrong. Completely wrong. As soon as the well was capped…which wasn’t soon–85 days, 16 hours and 25 minutes–that mile-deep gusher polluted the Gulf of Mexico.

Chemical dispersants were used that made the spill MUCH worse than letting the oil float to the surface for removal. I watched tide pools of fizzing oily water along the beach and witnessed the destruction first-hand.

My heart broke open. I felt grief beyond anything I had known. I felt anger. I felt shame at being human and part of the problem. And now, ten years later, I feel rather hopeless because there wasn’t an awakening…for some of us, sure. But overall…now regulations are fewer and more lax thanks to the current USA administration…worse than before the spill.

We have an even greater opportunity to awaken on a worldwide level with a tiny virus making a huge impact. My greatest fear is we will not take advantage of this opportunity to make major changes that will improve the health of all life on planet Earth…and that would be the saddest of all outcomes. With such a high death toll my prayer is that it will fuel a world-wide awakening to positive change so these deaths will not have been in vain.

I wasn’t going to write about the oil spill disaster today but how could I not? It was an awakening for me and I will never be the same. Which is a good thing because I won’t go back to sleep…ever.

How did that disaster affect you? Change you? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

P.S. I don’t know why I tasted oil in the air that night in Curacao but I suspect on some level I sensed what happened. We are One, connected to all life. Perhaps my cetacean self got the message loud and clear.