Tag Archives: Nature

Creation’s Cathedral

03 Monday Aug 2020

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A Rainy Colorado Sunset

“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be.” ~ Anne Frank

I found this quote online and wanted to share it because how true it is! There is not, in my opinion, any substitute to being alone with God. This alone time has been important to me my entire life. Both my parents worked through my childhood so, of necessity, I spent a great deal of time on my own and could sneak off into a field or tree and have time alone with Jesus once my chores were done. Now that I am older and know Him in a deeper way, that time alone with Him with the sky overhead our cathedral is of utmost importance.

So important, that years ago I wrote a poem about it.

Someone asked where I found You

So I sat right down and thought

Did I find You in my prayers?

Yes, but I know I don’t pray as I ought.

And did I find you in the written Word?

Yes and no, I said

For I don’t read it as I should

There’s so much to do instead.

I’m a miserable Christian! I exclaimed

And guilt was a heavy stone on my back.

But wait, where was I?

Oh, now I remember-

How did I get so far off track?

I banished the guilt, shrugged it off

Cleared it all from my mind.

I focused completely on thoughts of You

And left all others behind.

Where did I find You? I asked myself

I turned my eyes to the heavens above

I smiled with Joy as I realized I knew

All Creation testifies of your love.

Especially for me, it’s the skies themselves

That bring my heart closer to Yours-

When the sun rises and when the sun sets

I feel that my spirit soars.

The skies are alive with colors like flame

That swirl and bend in a dance.

Look up! You say, See what I’ve made

This will be your only chance-

For each one is different-not one is the same

What has been before won’t come again.

And each new sunrise and sunset that I’ve seen

Are more beautiful than the last ones have been.

I feel so privileged, so singled out

As I wonder how it could possibly be-

That You’ve been there waiting every day

To paint the sky new just for me.

So that’s where I find You-the works of Your hands

As all Creation attests to Your fame

For through You, by You, and for You all things are made

And I cannot but worship Your name.

Another Picture, Just Because

Gaining Strength As I Go

01 Friday May 2020

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After a two year hiatus, I am back to blogging!  Before I made Renaissance Woman public again I went through all of my old posts updating, checking links, deleting (a lot of deleting) and I found it apropos that my final blog post in April of 2018 was about making forward progress even if it’s at a turtle’s pace.  Two years later and the theme of that post is still valid.

The last two years have been fraught with difficulty.  My biggest obstacle occurred at the end of 2018: a major surgery I spent what felt like all of 2019 recovering from.  My neighbor described his wife’s last surgery to me and said it is a fight to come back from such a thing.  I agree: it felt like a battle and it became obvious early on it wasn’t one I was going to win in a day.  My first post-surgery walk went no further than the mailbox on the corner of my block which is an embarrassingly short distance.  I’d love to say I made more progress the next day but I didn’t.  My recovery was one of two steps forward, three steps back, and then at last four steps forward.

It took months but I finally walked a full mile.  I even took a trip to the mountains with a friend in July of 2019.  I admit I was grateful for late snow storms that kept hiking to a minimum as I had overestimated my ability.  Still, I’m never one to turn down a chance to be in God’s Creation and I didn’t collapse during our hike at Fish Creek Falls. I call that victory!

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I had to learn to be gentle with myself.  I am still learning to be gentle with myself because I have found that six weeks might be enough for incisions to heal but the rest of me is on my own clock.  I can do nothing to alter the speed of this passage of time.  All I can do is surrender and take one day at a time one step at a time.  I still wear the turtle pendant I mentioned in the last post and it has been a tangible reminder to me that any forward movement, even if it is just one step, is better than stagnation.

Stagnation is a terrible thing.  When I think of stagnation in a physical sense, I think of my lymphatic system.  This amazing system running through my body is so important for my health and yet it has no ability to move itself.  What do I mean?  The lymph has no heart to aid it as it moves upward through my body to my subclavian veins and thus relies on the motions of the muscles and joint pumps.  I must move or my lymphatic system is unable to do its job and my immune system suffers.  This pumping of my lymphatic system doesn’t require insanely difficult exercises. (I always think of Tae Bo.  Is that still something exercise lovers do?)  All I have to do is move a little bit throughout my day.

I found this quote:

“Life is never stagnation. It is constant movement, un-rhythmic movement, as we as constant change. Things live by moving and gain strength as they go.” ~ Bruce Lee

I think that’s beautiful.  “Things live by moving and gain strength as they go”.  There isn’t an aspect of my life I can’t apply that to: especially writing.  Writer’s speak of the flow of words and so I write to keep that flow constant.  I will write here on this blog, in my journal, in my notebooks, in my manuscript (manuscripts now-I had to put my series aside to conduct research on a few things and I’ve been working on a stand alone book since April of last year).  I write, I walk, I move to keep stagnation at bay.  I seek merely to gain strength as I go.

River

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrating National Poetry Month

30 Thursday Apr 2020

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The poem below is one of mine I’m posting for National Poetry Month.

It will tie into tomorrow’s blog post.

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Epiphany

Three miles-less will mean defeat

The gravel’s crunch beneath my feet

Each step propels me down the track

Yet I’m aware of all I lack

My body falters-lungs constrict

It fights against all I inflict

I answer all my pain with rage

My heart thuds-panicked-in its cage

I will not fail. I won’t give in.

I won’t be beaten. I will win.

I stop.  I breathe.  Confront the myth-

Of Who am I competing with?

Begin Again.  Take it slow

Let lungs expand inside my chest

It matters not how fast I go

My racing heart returns to rest

My muscles slide beneath my skin

Feel sun and breeze upon my face

There is no race that I must win

I do not fight to keep this pace

A bird takes wing, soars overhead

So much is waiting to be seen

To my right, a flash of red

A single apple midst leaves of green

Now that I do not resist

I see all I would have missed.

 

 

 

The Good Old Wintertime

11 Saturday Mar 2017

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Snow

It’s still winter according to the calendar but snowy days have been few and far between here in Colorado.  I need some cold days because my cookie recipes are stacking up but I can’t complain too much: cold weather makes me feel old and creaky.  On really cold days I entertain myself by thinking of seeking warmer climes, however; I’d miss winter.

I like snowy days.  Every sound is muffled and the world is quieter, stiller, than usual.  At least, I like them when I’m inside and warm.  I remember one time when I wasn’t much of a fan of cold and winter.

My dad had taken a job as foreman on a ranch and moved us north.  My brother and I were excited to be living on a ranch and were sure we’d each be able to have a horse.  It was the dead of winter and, practically the moment we arrived, the pipes in the house froze.  I don’t remember much of that time other than the bitter cold.  I do remember being put to bed with so many blankets and coats I could barely move.  I woke up on the third morning after our arrival to the sound of my mother packing our boxes and we were gone.  That was the coldest I ever remember being and the shortest I ever lived in one place.

Usually though, I like snow.  I like watching the flakes fall, I like the feeling of isolation.  I used to like hiking in the snow, though I don’t do much of that now.  All other sounds are muffled and the crunch of snow under my boots, the creaking of branches, and the occasional drop of snow to the ground all are inordinately loud.  Even when with other people, hiking in the snow made me feel alone.  I always felt more in touch with my own breath outdoors in the snow-perhaps the act of drawing the cold into my lungs-and even my thoughts seem to move more slowly.

I once tried to capture this feeling in poetry.  I wrote the included poem for my English class while at University and it’s one of my earliest attempts at word painting.  It’s been years but I remember my classmates liked it.  I hope you’ll feel the same.

One With Winter

It was a moment I will always remember

I stepped out of the trees

And a magnificent sight lay before me

A fresh snowfall covered the meadow

Beautiful, unmarred, soft, covered in a thin shell

The light from the moon sparkled like diamonds

All around me was silence-no movement for miles

There was only the fog I created as I breathed.

The coldness of Winter was in the air

It caressed my face, my lips

Winter found a kindred spirit in me

It entered my skin, my blood, my bones

And we were one.

As Winter I felt such peace-such nothingness

I was the ice in the air and the snow expansive before me

Beautiful, still, cold

I let myself sink into the heart of Winter

Until I was becoming lost in the cold

And had to fight my way back to myself

I took care as I walked around the meadow

Reluctant to mar the beauty I had enjoyed.

I returned the next day

To see my snow covered meadow but the snow was no longer there

It had melted-submitted-to the loving warmth of the sun.

 

 

A Walk in the Park

26 Wednesday Oct 2016

Posted by in RW Out and About

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A friend came out for a visit a few weeks ago and we celebrated beautiful weather in Colorado by spending the day in Rocky Mountain National Park.  This day, we turned left rather than heading straight into the park and visited Bear Lake.

My friend is a low lander and made some comments about my state not having enough air.  My family and I plied her with water and warnings not to ignore any feelings of dizziness then, as my friend was game for hiking, headed to the lake.

Bear Lake was well worth the stop.  It’s a beautiful place.  When my friend and I visited, the sun sparkled on the water, the sky was clear overhead, and a pair of ducks sought sustenance.  My friend asked if Bear Lake was called “Bear Lake” because it was shaped like a bear’s paw and I had to tell her I didn’t know.  A bit of research on Google led me to this blog post where I learned that the grandfather of a woman named Sally Ferguson shot at and missed a bear while hunting in the area in 1912 and that’s how the lake earned it’s name.  Now I know.  There’s a great deal of information on the History of Bear Lake in the post: I encourage you to check it out.

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Bear Lake

Bear Lake isn’t far from the parking lot so my friend felt up for a hike.  I’ll hike whenever I get the chance so I was chomping at the proverbial bit to get onto a trail.  There’s a lovely walk around the lake but we weren’t far from the trail to Alberta Falls.  My friend said she’d never seen a waterfall before and thought she was up for the hike.  My family was content to entertain themselves and the two of us started off.

Hiking with my friend was an experience I’ll ever forget and probably the most fun hiking I’ve ever had.  The two of us giggled over the fact she was hiking in designer jeans, Pumas and carrying a Coach bag slung over her shoulder.  I looked like I’d crawled out of the bushes by comparison.  We laughed, snapped photos, and took breathing breaks all the way to Alberta Falls.

I resorted to Google again to satisfy  my own curiosity about the naming of Alberta Falls and found I liked this website best.  The hike isn’t difficult.  There is an increase in elevation once Bear Lake is left but the incline isn’t ever too intense and the trail is well maintained.  There are bridges that add some fun to a basic trail and stones to prevent tumbling head long into a ravine.  (I had to be kept from falling to my death in search of a photo; my friend is much more level-headed)  The hike up to the falls took about an hour and, when we finally reached them, my friend said the hike was well worth it.  She rested for a bit while I had a grand time crawling around on rocks in search of the best waterfall picture.

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Alberta Falls

It was a glorious day.  Not only did we see two beautiful spots but my friend got a stamp in her National Parks book and I purchased a book of my own: a history of women settlers in the area now in my stack to read.  I’ll be hard pressed to top it when next my friend visits.

It isn’t possible to find a bad view in Rocky Mountain National Park but, if you get a chance to visit, check out Bear Lake and take the time to hike to the Falls.  Both places are beautiful and not difficult to reach.  I found them both to be accessible by all fitness levels.  Come to Colorado and decide for yourself!

Lions and Tigers and Bears…

03 Saturday Sep 2016

Posted by in RW Out and About

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…and wolves, too!

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Last weekend, a friend came down from Wyoming for a day visit.  My family and I had ordered Palisade Peaches through the Wild Animal Sanctuary’s program and it just so happened the pick-up weekend and my friend’s visit coincided.  My friend was agreeable so we decided to tour the sanctuary before picking up the peaches.

The Sanctuary is a place I’ve followed and supported for a while now but I’ve never had the chance/made the time to do the tour.  The Sanctuary is toured from the “Mile into the Wild Walkway”, a raised walkway that offers an opportunity to safely view the rescued animals.

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All the animals are rescued.  They come from defunct circuses, roadside attractions, and drug dealers to list a few.  Some of the stories are heart wrenching: animals that have lived their lives confined to cages and cement and never see grass or unrestricted sunlight until they come to the Sanctuary.

There are still cages but the animals remain so only until they are acclimated to each other and their surroundings and then they are released into a habitat where the animals are made as comfortable as they can be.

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One of the Tigers getting used to the place.

The Sanctuary is not a zoo so the animals can roam quite a distance from the walkway and can be difficult to see without a telephoto lens.  I didn’t want to carry it so the animals are a bit difficult to see in some of the photos I took, but that’s what I like about the Sanctuary: it offers the chance to see amazing carnivores in rural Colorado but it’s all about the animals.  The Sanctuary exists to give them a comfortable home, not to put them on display.  Visiting the animals is a privilege and the Sanctuary’s goal is education.

My friend and I spent two hours in the Sanctuary and it was well worth it.  Check out the Wild Animal Sanctuary; it’s a great place to spend a day.  Also, check out the peach program.  It’s a tasty way to support an organization seeking to do good.

Check out more photos here.

Plan a visit to the Wild Animal Sanctuary!

Check out the Newsletters for awesome rescue stories

 

The Human Effect

24 Sunday Apr 2016

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I have recently been enjoying the “Nature is Speaking” series.  The message of each of these short videos is that we need nature; nature doesn’t need us.  These videos reminded me of a documentary I saw a while ago called “Radioactive Wolves”.  It was made to coincide with the 25th anniversary of the Chernobyl nuclear incident and is a fascinating study on just how well nature does without human involvement.

25 years has completely changed the landscape both around Chernobyl and within the zone so contaminated with radiation it’s uninhabitable by humans.  Cultivated land and the deserted cities have all been reclaimed by wilderness.  Man-made canals have been damned by beavers and the same beavers have undermined dykes thus returning drained marshland to its natural state.  The area around Chernobyl has become an unintended refuge for endangered species; species that seem to thrive despite the fact that bones of moose test at 50 times normal levels of radiation and fish bones from the area close to the reactor are so contaminated they can’t be touched by bare hands.

Gray wolf, Eagle, and Peregrine falcons are the top predator species that thrive in this reclaimed wilderness.  It doesn’t seem like thriving should be possible with the amount of radiation in the soil which is then taken up by the plants, eaten by the large herbivores and then consumed by the predators, but thrive they do.  The health of their populations stems from the fact that the area is toxic and thus lost to humans.

And, it is toxic.  The documentary referenced a six year study performed on dormice living within the contaminated zone.  4 to 6 percent of every generation shows some sign of abnormality, twice the rate of clean areas.  Those rates are unacceptable to humans and with an estimate of Chernobyl being uninhabitable by humans for the next 20,000 years; these species will be able to continue their uninterrupted life cycles without human intervention.

Almost without human intervention.  Bison were reintroduced into the Belarus side of the exclusion zone in the late 90’s and that decade saw wild horses being introduced on the Ukraine side.  However, wherever there are humans trying to help, there are humans causing problems.  Reproduction rates among the wild horses say there should be close to 200 individuals roaming the wilderness but poachers have brought that number closer to 60: a fact that seems to reinforce the Nature is Speaking message.  Nature doesn’t need us and, indeed, seems to do much better without us.

Does it have to be this way?  If human beings could realize our relationship with the world around us is symbiotic-our ability to thrive depends on the health of our environment-would we start living in balance with it rather than consuming its resources far faster than it can replenish itself?  As always, I can’t answer for anyone but myself.  I try to make the most responsible decisions I can and living in balance with my environment is an ongoing journey.

 

 

The Anniversary of My Life

19 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by in Challenges, RW Out and About

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October 4th was the 17 year anniversary of my car accident. In two more years, I’ll have lived exactly half my life “normal” and half as a disabled person; a fact that feels meaningful to my pattern-loving brain. Perhaps it it, perhaps it isn’t.

I don’t actually celebrate my new life anniversary. There are times I intend to: it’s a good excuse to eat cake (as if I needed one!), but the 4th of October usually passes by and it’s only a few days later that I go; Hey! Another year of life! This year, I spent the 4th at Arches National Park in Utah. I didn’t wake up that morning planning to celebrate an anniversary. I’m not even sure I remembered what day it was. But, since I had my Hey! moment ON the 4th, I’m going to tell all of you about it.

My family and I planned to spend a week touring as many state and national parks as possible. My focus was to get as much hiking in as my body could withstand. I used to be quite the hiker: 9 miles round trip with a night spent sleeping on the ground was nothing to my younger self. Now, half that distance seems insurmountable. I physically can’t do it and my brain injury comes with some oxygen processing/breathing problems. Still, I do what I can and I’m lucky to have family that is willing to wait for me as I start up a trail. Bless my mother: I know she has visions of my passing out and my carcass sliding into a ravine but she never says a word beyond “be careful” and so, I start off.

There are several trails at Arches and I could have spent a week in that park alone, still not seeing all of it. I hiked around the North and South Turrets and considered hiking the Primitive Trail but, as I hadn’t established that plan with my family, I had visions of emerging miles down the road with no way of telling them where I was. I passed on that trail and, instead, hiked to Delicate Arch. I’d misread the distance and thought the distance was a mile round trip. How bad could it be?

The answer? Bad. Delicate Arch is a difficult hike up a rock face with no trail to speak of. The way to the arch is marked out by little cairns and, believe me, those little pile of stones became my best friends. And, the round trip distance is 3 miles. Note to self: make sure to thoroughly read the description before setting foot on a trail. At least I had plenty of water.

Trail? What Trail?

Trail? What Trail?

The first time I considered turning back was when the clearly outlined trail disappeared and I stood staring up at people scaling a rock face. “Don’t do it”, a voice warned.  I turned and stared down at the parking lot. My family wouldn’t care if I turned back. Sure, they wanted a picture of Delicate Arch but no one had any expectation of me pushing my body beyond its limits. Really, the only one with that expectation was me. I knew that if I gave up, I would regret it. I would feel like I failed. I wanted to see Delicate Arch. I wasn’t giving up. I’d take my time, stop and breathe when I needed to, take some sips of water. I didn’t need to compete with anyone. I didn’t have to feel embarrassed at needing to stop and breathe. I started up.

Suck it up, Kate!

Suck it up, Kate!

I don’t have words to express how difficult this hike was. I feel a little ridiculous: there were people who breezed passed me like it was nothing. But then, I passed people who were also dragging themselves up to the arch, red-faced and wheezing. Solidarity, my hiking peeps. I did stop, frequently, and there were many times when I considered turning back. Those considerations flooded my mind more and more as the pain in my back, neck, and shoulder set in and it became more and more difficult to stand upright. Still, I persevered. Like an idiot, I’m sure.

It's wider than it looks...

It’s wider than it looks…

The hike to the arch ends with a series of stone steps and then a ledge that wraps around a cliff wall. I recommend hugging the wall as much as possible. On the day of my hike, the wind was rather strong and the drop off from the ledge is significant. But, it’s worth it. I rounded the cliff wall and the rocks dropped from my sight. There was Delicate Arch. It stands alone in this vista of rocks and sky and was worth every ounce of energy it took to see it.

Delicate Arch

Delicate Arch

There were several intrepid souls who hiked down to the arch and took pictures with, under, and through it but I could not. I still had to hike back the way I came so I found a seat, caught my breath, drank more water, and enjoyed the view. I tried to take a selfie with the arch but my selfie skills are non-existent. My thanks to the stranger who offered to take my photo.

Proof I make it!

Proof I make it!

Down was, of course, easier but I admit I dragged myself into the parking lot. I laughed and told my family I was probably done with hiking for a day or two but I really wanted to burst into tears and stick my body in a hot bath. I had a picture of the arch and, in my seat in the van, I asked myself if all the pain and exhaustion I felt was, indeed, worth it. It was then I had my Hey! moment: today was my life anniversary day and I was out hiking!

17 years. I must, after all this time, accept I’ve made all the progress I’m going to make. I’m not going to get any better. I’ll never hike another 9 miles with two days of supplies, a tent, and a sleeping bag strapped to my back. I’ll never work a full time job. That person did-for lack of a better word-die in that car. Now, I must learn to live as this person. I must accept that every day is going to be a fight to push the boundaries of my limitations as far as I can. It’s going to be hard. I’m going to want to give up. But, if I press on, there will be moments of breath-taking beauty waiting for me at the end of difficult trails.

It is worth it.

A Day at the Museum

22 Sunday Feb 2015

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My .45C postcard from the gift shop.

My .45C postcard from the gift shop.

I have a membership at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. I’ve always squeezed my budget to be able to afford it as I love being able to go, enter through the member express lane, get my card scanned, and spend the day wandering the exhibits. My membership also grants me access to the DMNS library which is an amazing, amazing place. Reference books I’d never be able to walk out of a public library with have made it into my home for my perusal. I may have gone a little overboard the first time I used my library access but that’s a story for a different time.

I try to hit the special exhibits when they come through. The Genghis Khan exhibit was awesome, made more so because of the contortionist hired to perform on a little stage inside the exhibit. I also loved wending my way through the Pompeii exhibit. Again, there were actors hired to dress like ancient world characters AND a gentleman running a mini ballista.   This was set up to fire ping pong balls rather than stones to the relief of nearby parents.  I kept my soul in patience and finally had the change to fire it myself.  Let me just say, I have to future in siege warfare.

In the last room of the Pompeii exhibit, I found the molds taken of humans and animals found under the layers of pumice and ash. This was heartrending and I had to find a quiet corner to cry a little. Even though the remains of people and dogs were long gone, I could see agony burned into the lines their bodies left and the expressions of terror and pain as they died. It was a difficult room to get through but the exhibit was well worth attending. I felt like a different, softer person when I left.

I tell you all that to mention the Whale Exhibit recently at DMNS. I made it on the next to last day of the exhibit and dragged my mother and step-father with me. I’m glad I did as the parking garage was full. My step-father has handicap access and we found rockstar parking right in front of the member’s entrance. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to see the exhibit. I half-jokingly told my parents they have to come with me from now on. When they’re tired and ready to sit down, I’ll set them up in the T-Rex cafe with pizza and books while I continue on my own. Half-joking…

The Whale exhibit was worth seeing but, I admit, I left with a bit of a meh feeling. Why? Because, in this respect, the exhibit was too sterile for me to completely enjoy it. I don’t feel the same way wandering through the Egyptian exhibit or the Gemological exhibit but I don’t spend a great deal of time in the wildlife dioramas and wasn’t transported by the Whale exhibit. I think that’s because I prefer the real thing. I love hiking and Colorado provides some of the best opportunities for getting out into nature and seeing actual, living, wildlife. Why stare at a stuffed eagle when I could get outside and perhaps see the real thing? I felt the same way at the whale exhibit.

Not that it wasn’t worth seeing. There were interesting specimens in the exhibit and, again, I had to restrain myself from adding fun facts the exhibit failed to mention. For instance, there was a computer generated sperm whale hunting a giant squid. The images showed the sperm whale using echolocation and I had to squelch the impulse to share that, in a documentary I watched, divers who’ve encountered sperm whales say experiencing those sound waves feel like getting kicked in the chest by a donkey. Why didn’t I share it? Because I have a tendency to get a little teachy and I’ve learned to err on the side of caution. I did, however, manage to share my fun fact with all of you. Ha Ha. I do feel better…

I enjoyed the exhibit but I did not leave transported and I think that’s because I longed for the real thing. Whale-watching isn’t easy in the Denver Metro area but I attended University in Juneau Alaska and experienced something magical with whales; something no exhibit could ever duplicate.

The road leading away from Juneau and Auke Bay is riddled with tiny inlets. I often drove out to one of these and would sit on a rock, listen to the water (and nothing else!) and let the peace and calm enter my spirit. I can’t remember exactly how it all happened. Was I with someone? I had to be because I didn’t have my own car. Had I or we not headed out until late or had we been there a while and the sun started setting? Was it late in the year when the sun sets at 4PM and that’s why it happened? I can’t remember. I remember the whales.

I was sitting on a rock in half-light. My attention was focused on the rhythmic rush of the tide as it passed back and forth over the rocks in front of me. The tree covered arms of land enclosing the inlet were little more than vague shadows and thus, at first, I didn’t notice the dark shapes in the water. There were two, far across the water at the entrance to the inlet. I thought they were rock formations jutting out of the water and I’d simply never noticed them before. Then I saw a third rock formation in the center of the inlet. I hadn’t seen it appear but I swear it was moving. If it was, it was moving so slowly I could almost imagine it. It couldn’t be…I hadn’t heard that pop of air and water that happens when a whale surfaces. These had to be rock formations and I’d simply never noticed before. These inlets couldn’t be deep enough for one whale much less three. I couldn’t even tell what kind of whales they were.  And, they couldn’t be whales. Just rocks in the water.

But that middle rock formation was moving. It was alive. It was a whale. I couldn’t believe it. This was the reason I’d come all the way to Alaska and I was actually seeing whales. I had to be with someone because I remember asking if I was seeing what I was really seeing and I swear I remember that someone insisting I was. We were.

And then there was no space for words. The whales started humming. Not singing like I’d heard on so many different recordings. This was deep, more feeling than sound. I could feel my breast bone vibrating in the same frequency as that hum. And I sat there, mesmerized.   Even now, when I remember this happening, I don’t recall any sense of the passage of time.

I remember getting cold and having to leave but I don’t remember leaving. The entire memory feels like a dream but it wasn’t. I was there. I remember. And no exhibit with specimens and massive whale skeletons can ever compare.