A child and a dog. It’s a touching image known to poets and painters. It evokes something in us. It’s the bond beyond boundaries. This video shows the love between this beautiful child and a dog that transcends handicap, species and age. It’s a heart warming reminder of the simple goodness inherent in life at any moment.
Happy Holidays.
Photo by Takashi Murai
“Everything goes, everything comes back; eternally rolls the wheel of being. Everything dies, everything blossoms again. . . .” Fredrich Nietzche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
“After more than 4,000 years — almost since the dawn of recorded time, when Utnapishtim told Gilgamesh that the secret to immortality lay in a coral found on the ocean floor — man finally discovered eternal life in 1988. He found it, in fact, on the ocean floor,” write Nathaniel Rich of The New York Times. One tiny, unassuming jellyfish has earned the name immortal. It seems this being literally reverses its aging process and can revert back to its infant state, never dying. It literally begins its life anew.
Read the full article here.
Sometimes life can reach out and touch you so deeply it can leave you forever changed. It happens in the most unexpected of ways without fanfare or warning. And sometimes it’s like being hit but a truck.
Monday morning my husband and I woke early, long before the sunrise. After puttering around the house for awhile, we decided to take a walk and enjoy what little solitude can be had around here.
The air was heavy and damp making my shirt cling to me the moment we stepped outside. Always darkest before the dawn, as they say, the sky was a spectacle. Saturn, Mars, Venus and Jupiter glowed brightly with the crescent of the waning moon as their center piece. The constellation of Cancer provided the mantle on which it all rested. We couldn’t help but pause to take it all in to the tune of the heavy trucks rumbling sleepily from the road that was our destination.
The streets were otherwise deserted. We paused again at the little temple outside the gate. The bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling gave a golden glow and strings of twinkling lights lent a happy aura to the place. The goddess Durga, the divine mother of creation, smiled out at us with breathtaking beauty. Hanuman watched in stoic silence nearby. I lingered there. I couldn’t help myself. Although I don’t worship these deities, the peace of this place was palpable. There’s a fragrance there, undetectable by the nose but felt in the heart as delicate as a flower’s perfume. Two blocks down the road, the irony would almost ruin me.
I was reluctant to leave, but my husband tugged me on. He wanted milk for his tea. I recalled the juicy ginger roots waiting in the fridge and salivated. The sweet tang of ginger tea did sound pretty appealing so I followed along holding his hand as we strolled under grimy street lights reluctant to give up their light.
When we approached the road, humanity trundled sleepily along. The trucks banged, and the occasional car or motorbike sputtered. Green rickshaws, almost gray in the darkness, stood slumbering untouched by the diesel fumes. Everything was oblivious to the dust.
The little shop was open as we’d hoped. Some days it isn’t at such an early hour but we lucked out. As my husband stepped to the window of the little pink shack to ask for our milk and pay, I stood nearby and quietly observed. Several vehicles were parked there and a few men were loitering around the corner, smoking and talking in low voices. I tried to be invisible. As the only white foreign woman living in our area my presence is always met with stares. It still makes me uncomfortable. I’m a freakish thing to them, I think. An unexpected spectacle. Maybe someday they’ll get used to the fact I exist here. Or maybe not. Either way, I was happier not to be seen.
I noticed the dogs. Stray dogs are plentiful here in India. They congregate in small groups, claiming a landmark as their home base, and like everything else here they coexist. Two of them were milling near the men; one black and white and the other a dark brown. They looked hale and healthy as far as street dogs go. The third, a young chestnut colored thing, was snuggled tightly against the shack wall away from the others, curled tightly in a ball. She was a young dog and as I stood trying to be invisible she was watching me.
It was her eyes that held me. They’re still burned into my mind. They silently said so much. Dogs are such intuitive creatures. I think it comes from their natural need to be social; with each other and with us. Perhaps she sensed what I was thinking as I stood there. I was missing my own dog, left behind in the States. I still mourn her absence. But I looked into those eyes and I knew the stray dog’s thoughts.
Be kind to me. Speak gently to me. Let me feel comfort.
My heart reacted and poured from my mouth before I even realized what I was doing.
“Hi, sweet baby,” I cooed softly, not to attract the attention of the men around the corner. “Oh, sweetheart.”
She raised her head higher and slightly closer and I wanted to reach out and touch her but I also saw the fear lingering behind her need. Her tail dared not even a wag.
“It’s okay. I understand,” I told her. “It’s ok.”
I could see the war within her. She wanted to come to me yet she wanted to remain invisible too. That emotion I could relate to. Her inner conflict made my heart ache.
I pondered whether or not to move closer, to make some overture, but everything exploded. It all happened in an instant. One of the men kicked her, sending her into motion with a squeal. The other two dogs erupted, barking. They knew well not to trifle with men like these but their need to protect their pack-mate sent them running in sweeping circles, barking sharply; venting their outrage away from its real source for their own safety.
Then I saw the reason for both her need and her conflict. She was hobbling on 3 legs. Her hind leg she held up gingerly out of the way. She was injured. Not knowing where to go or what to do, she simply plopped down next to a car’s tire, shivering. This is when my heart broke into two. She wasn’t watching the men who offended her. She wasn’t watching her pack-mates pacing here and there. She was looking at me. The raw hunger of her fear and her need shattered inside of me like a thousand shards of glass.
Having acquired our milk, my husband jarred me back into myself.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
It was all I could say. He took my numb hand and we walked away. I can’t remember when I’ve felt like such a shit leaving her there. Feeling her eyes on me, I forced myself to turn once. She was still cowering by the tire, still watching me. When the lights of the road were behind us, and the privacy of darkness had cloaked us again, I shed a few silent tears. Her need followed me.
Questions are haunting me now: Why does suffering like this have to exist in this world? Why does any being have to live so starved for simple kindness? I can’t accept “oh, it’s just the way things are” as the rationalization. Maybe I’m an idealist but complacency like that is also an ideal and it a crummy one. I refuse to accept that excuse because I know it doesn’t have to be this way. People choose it. We could choose to be kind. Even if it’s only pausing to share a gentle word, to reach out to comfort that hunger in another. But so many times we make the choice to walk on by, or worse, to kick it and turn callously away. I guess this is how we delude ourselves that we can be in control of the discomfort suffering in others causes in us instead of allowing our hearts to open and reach out.
But letting the heart open is such a beautiful thing. There’s immense power in that one simple act. It’s a power that can move mountains without effort. It’s so strong that it can leave something forever changed. That forlorn dog, in return for a few kind words, taught me more in those few moments than years of seeking has. Love is the most important thing in this world. Kindness is the light in the deepest night of hopelessness. And it’s a choice.
Hatred, anger, contempt and frustration are all mired in the material world and we get caught in that habitual mind-muck. It’s an ugly habit, an unconscious choice. But love is something else, entirely. When the heart is open, being in this loving state is pure ease. You breathe. Unfurl. When the heart is opened in an act of kindness it opens the heart of one who is closed. And being closed is suffering. In that moment of kindness, natural being is restored, if only for a moment, giving a glimpse of another possibility. Another choice.
We need to be more mindful of how we choose to be. We need to choose wisely.
Why do you feel it’s easier for our hearts to be touched by animals?
Mid March of this year, Greg and Barbara MacGillivray traveled to Laguna San Ignacio located on Mexico’s Baja Penninsula to do a little whale watching. Even though San Ignacio is a whale watcher’s paradise, they received a special treat they weren’t expecting. A gray whale mother sought out the small boat of sightseers and introduced her baby to them. At one point she even held her calf to the surface so it could look at them.
Laguna San Ignacio, Part of the El Vizcaino Biosphere Reserve, is where hundreds of gray whales (Eschrichtius robustus) migrate annually, traveling about 6,000 miles (10,000 km) from their Alaskan feeding grounds to the warm shallow water of San Ignacio lagoon. There they mate and give birth between January and April.
“There is a constant ‘oofft’ of the exhalation from the blow holes of all the whales surfacing for air. Such a gentle reassurance that nature is alive and well in the lagoon: probably the softest, most gentle and nurturing sound in the world,” said Barbara.
“We would never approach the whales directly, but waited at a respectful distance of about 20-30 feet of a visible whale and calf to see if they would approach us. The initiative was always in the whales’ court.”
If a whale approaches the small fishing boats seeking human interaction, no more than two boats are allowed in the immediate area of the “friendly,” as these whales are called.
“Frequently, it seemed like the mother wanted us to see her calf, actively pushing the calf close to our boat,” Barbara said. Luckily they were able to record and share one such amazing event!
Believing in the importance of striking the right balance between conservation and tourism, Serge Dedina, the Executive Director of WiLDCOAST and author of Saving the Gray Whale, said, “There is no other area in the world where whale watching is more regulated than San Ignacio Lagoon. In spite of the tourist activities there are more whales than ever. Local outfitters, the Mexican government, and conservationists have worked to eliminate most of the major threats to the whales in the Lagoon… Whale watching guides have been the biggest proponents of preserving whales along their migratory routes, and stopping planned hunts of whales. They’ve also supported a major endeavor to preserve 400,000 acres of the lagoon.”
Considering a full grown gray whale can reach up to 52 feet (16 m) in length and weighs about 35 tons, this had to be a breath-taking experience. Ironically, Gray whales were once called devil fish because of their fighting behavior when hunted. You can learn more about the gray whale here.
To read the full story and learn more, please visit Oneworldoneocean.org.
Lawrence Anthony, known as “The Elephant Whisperer” passed away Thursday, March 8th, of a heart attack. If you’re not familiar with this amazing person, he was wildlife guru and conservationist. It seems the story of his life and accomplishments is so long and so great it’s going to be difficult to relay it all here without devoting an entire book to it, so I will focus on the remarkable event of his passing.
To give a little background, Lawrence Anthony was born on September 17 1950 in Johannesburg, South Africa. He was raised up in a series of small towns in rural Rhodesia, Zambia, Malawi and finally Zululand, South Africa. The African bush was his backyard and lifelong love.
He became involved in working with Zulu tribes people to help rebuild their historical relationship with the bush, and in the mid-1990s he decided to turn his hobby into a career, buying the 5,000-acre Thula Thula (which means “quiet”) game reserve in KwaZulu-Natal.
He founded a conservation group called the Earth Organization and was instrumental in the creation of two new reserves, the Royal Zulu Biosphere in Zululand and the Mayibuye Game Reserve in Kwa Ximba, which provide local people with jobs and income through tourism while helping to secure the future of the region’s wildlife from creeping development.
In 1999, he was asked if he was willing to take control of a rogue herd of elephants. There were nine of them and they had been labeled unruly and dangerous, having escaped every enclosure that ever tried to contain them. As a result, they were wreaking havoc across KwaZulu-Natal and were in danger of being shot. Lawrence knew he was their only hope and agreed to accept them onto the Thula Thula reserve.
“They were a difficult bunch, no question about it,” Anthony recalled. “Delinquents every one. But I could see a lot of good in them too. They’d had a tough time and were all scared, and yet they were looking after one another, trying to protect one another.”
Anthony approached this motley crew of elephants as if they were deliquent children, working to persuade them through words and gestures the difference between acceptable behavior and bad behavior and that they could trust him. He focused most of his attention on Nana, the matriarch of the herd.
“I’d go down to the fence and I’d plead with Nana not to break it down,” he said. “I knew she didn’t understand English, but I hoped she’d understand by the tone of my voice and my body language what I was saying. And one morning, instead of trying to break the fence down, she just stood there. Then she put her trunk through the fence towards me. I knew she wanted to touch me. That was a turning point.”
Soon after they were finally allowed out into the reserve to roam freely.
Anthony and his wife, Françoise, became so close to the elephants that on some occasions they almost had to chase them out of their living room. When Nana gave birth, she brought her newborn to introduce to them a few days after its birth. A few years later, after Anthony’s first grandchild was born, he returned the compliment, though he recalled it was some time before his daughter-in-law would speak to him again.
Anthony tells the story of the elephants in “The Elephant Whisperer,” 2009, co-written with Graham Spence.
About a year ago, Anthony had to make a difficult decision. Tourism at Thula Thula was growing exponentially as was the herd. He feared for the elephants’ safety so he forced a distance between himself and the herd. As a result, the herd had not visited his home in over 15 months.
That distance ended Thursday evening. After Anthony passed from this world, the elephant herd mysteriously arrived at his home as if to pay their respects. Anthony believed and advocated that the elephants communicated on levels we don’t understand and their synchronistic appearance would suggest they knew he was no more. They have returned several times since, perhaps to share their grief.
On a personal note, I believe open, honest, loving hearts speak a universal language. It doesn’t require a tongue or a dialect. It’s something that’s passed intuitively between living things. Some are aware of it and some are not. This is what I feel is a beautiful and touching example.
Anthony Lawrence is also known for his 2003 gutsy rescue of the animals from Saddam Hussein’s zoo in Baghdad. As with his elephant friends, he earned the trust of people and animals alike in the middle of a war zone and accomplished what would have seemed otherwise impossible. But that’s another story.
Anthony died before his gala conservation dinner in Durban planned this month to raise international awareness of the rhino-poaching crisis, and to launch his new book, The Last of the Rhinos (The Powerful Story of One Man’s Battle to Save a Species).
Who is going to look out for the animals now? Dylan, Anthony’s eldest son, says everything at Thula Thula will go on as before. Sadly, it will just go on without the presence of Lawrence.
If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy “They Know”.
The infamous “Jaws” ride and the big attraction at Universal Studios Theme Park in Florida sadly is no more. When they opened their doors in 1990 “JAWS” was their premiere attraction. But, on January 2, 2012, the final excursion of the Amity Island tour and interactive movie experience set sail. The next day the ride was walled off and dismantling started so a new attraction could take its place. Another summer rite of passage and memories of younger days to be tucked into a shoe box under the bed.
Photos courtesy of The Shark is Still Working
The attraction celebrated the movie “Jaws” based on Peter Benchley’s novel by the same name and directed by Steven Spielberg. It was released to theaters in the summer of 1975 and was a blockbuster smash. It’s since become the prototypical watershed of the summer blockbuster. It was the highest grossing film of all time that summer and was nominated for several awards.
Wikipedia gives the synopsis: In the story, the police chief of Amity Island, a fictional summer resort town, tries to protect beachgoers from a giant man-eating great white shark by closing the beach, only to be overruled by the town council, which wants the beach to remain open to draw revenue from tourists during the summer season. After several attacks, the police chief enlists the help of a marine biologist and a professional shark hunter. Roy Scheider stars as police chief Martin Brody, Richard Dreyfuss as oceanographer Matt Hooper, Robert Shaw as shark hunter Quint, Murray Hamilton as the mayor of Amity Island, and Lorraine Gary as Brody’s wife, Ellen.
I was just 13 years old that summer. I had read the novel by Benchley the previous year. Based on real life exploits of shark fishermen and the shark attacks on the Jersey Shore in 1916 it was ample fuel for my 13-year-old curiosity. My thrill-seeking friends and I scurried to the local theater to see the monster shark and the havoc it wreaked on poor unsuspecting Amity Island. As I recall, our parents cautioned us it might be too intense.
I have to laugh now. I remember feeling so brave when the house lights went down, but by the time the thrum of the first few notes of that infamous first attack scene score vibrated my seat I was terrified. I was so afraid I sat through the whole movie with my feet tucked safely under me on my seat. I wasn’t going to risk having my legs bitten off by some unseen floor cruising shark! I couldn’t even face the bathtub that night.
I’m sad to say I never experienced Jaws the Ride at Universal Studios but I remember wishing I could when the park opened. Now it’s a thing of the past. It was plagued with constant malfunctions, having been shut down several times during the 90s and then redesigned. By 2005, the ride was shut down temporarily due to rising petroleum costs which fueled the pyrotechnics. When it reopened months later, it was only as a seasonal attraction. The Jaws attraction still remains open at Universal’s Osaka Japan location.
If, like me, you never experienced the attraction or you want to ride it one last time, here it is:
Champis the Sheep Herding Bunny
Meet Champis, a 5-year old mixed-breed rabbit and pet of Nils-Erik and Greta Vigren, who is quickly becoming a YouTube and online sensation. Little Champis lives in the village of Kal in north Sweden. What makes Champis extraordinary is his uncanny natural ability to herd the Vigren’s sheep.
This behavior was noticed last spring when the Vigren’s first turned their sheep out to pasture after a long winter. Little Champis hopped along, keeping them in line just as the sheepdogs do. Even more remarkable is the fact Champis was never trained to herd. He’s apparently picked up his skill by watching the other sheepdogs.
Dan Westman, a sheepdog breeder who shot and posted the video of his friends’ remarkable bunny, said he was in awe when he first witnessed the phenomenon, noting Champis does the job even better than most dogs would.
“It’s really incredible, it’s a herding rabbit,” he said. “He rounds them up, and if they get close to escaping through the gate he sometimes stops them,” he said.
“I mean I work with sheepdogs and know how hard this is. There are very few dogs that could do what this rabbit does.”
According to the Vigrens, Champis also looks after the hens.
“He just started to behave like a sheepdog,” Greta said, adding that while he likes to round up the sheep, he is consistent about leaving the farm’s hens alone, treating them more gently.
“He’s like a king for the whole group. He thinks he rules over both the sheep and the hens. He has a very big ego.”
The amazing thing is the sheep pay attention to the little bunny and take him quite seriously, paying their minder a load of respect.
Watch little Champis in action. Seeing is believing!
You can see the full article here.
I’m reblogging this because I’m just nuts about things like this and I think those who follow my blog will enjoy it as much as I did!
Rare sightings of pure white animals have peaked my curiosity lately. (http://news.discovery.com/animals/rare-albino-hummingbird-120127.html). In England a rare white stag has been photographed. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2040472/Rare-sighting-white-stag-spotted-Dartmoor.html Lately there have been several great white shark sightings in San Diego, a once rare event. What is up with all the white?
White is associated with newness, passages, initiation, awakening, nourishment, purity, illumination, or the sum of all colors: God’s radiance, pearl of great price, milk, purity of attention, pristine snow. There is something sacred and holy about the hush and beauty of newly fallen snow illumined in the sunlight. Purity of attention, or presence, is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself or others. Pure Presence is rare, precious, mystical and will be increasingly possible as more and more are awakening.
Another rare event is seeing a white lion. Legends proclaim that white lions have magical powers: http://www.responsibletravel.com/copy/white-lions-guardians-of-africas-gold
The legend of the white calf and…
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The snowy owl, an impressive bird of almost 2 feet in height with a 5 foot diameter wing span, is doing something unheard of that has experts in shock. They are on an unprecedented mass migration, moving from their Arctic habitat down into the lower 48 states. Experts state that it’s not unusual to see a few owls migrate south to breed, but never this many. Not even during normal periodic mass southerly migrations known as irruptions.
The owls have been spotted in Massachusetts, Missouri, Idaho, Montana and as far south as Oklahoma.
Denver Holt, who has studied snowy owls in their Arctic tundra ecosystem for two decades, stated, “this is the most significant wildlife event in decades.”
According to Holt, the reason behind this mass exodus may be related to an explosion in the lemming population last year. Lemmings are a main food source for the owls and such a bumper crop of rodents most likely resulted in a bumper crop of baby owls. The resulting greater competition for food is probably what’s driving the mostly young male snowy population south.
Bird enthusiasts from Texas, Arizona and Utah are flocking to the Northern Rockies and Pacific Northwest to see the birds. They’re also pouring tourist dollars into local economies and crowding parks and wildlife areas.
“For the last couple months, every other visitor asks if we’ve seen a snowy owl today,” said Frances Tanaka, a volunteer for the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge northeast of Olympia, Washington.
But there’s a sad side to this. Emaciated and starving birds have been sited. It’s believed the snowy owl population is already on the decline due to climate change. But research on the animals is scarce because of the remoteness and extreme conditions of the terrain the owls occupy, including northern Russia and Scandinavia.
“There’s a lot of speculation. As far as hard evidence, we really don’t know,” Holt said.
For the full story, click here.
MoonLightened Way 