Whale Tale

Today, shortly before Savasana – or the period of relaxation after a strenuous yoga class - my instructor played music that featured whale calls. With my eyes closed, and my legs twisted left while my torso twisted right, I was immediately transported to the sea. In 1996, after a day of whale watching, I was snorkeling off the shore in Maui when I heard whale songs. Likely, the Humpback whales were more than a mile away, but the water carried the sound so clearly that I scanned, wide-eyed in my mask, 360 degrees to see if I could make out any massive forms. Their bellow resonated in my heart, and I knew that I would never forget that moment, that at the end of my life I would hold it as an image when I am being carried from this world to the next. [Image courtesy Animal Planet site]

Having evidently thoughtfully chosen that piece of music, the instructor interrupted my thoughts by saying that whale calls can be healing; that we might consider listening to their songs as we slowly switched our twist to the other side, earth bound and 1,029 miles from the closest sea.

I remember the feeling when the boat’s engine was cut in the vicinity of whales and seeing
a behemoth dark gray Humpback rise to one side of the boat and descend only to appear on the other side. I felt as though I was witnessing a manifestation of God. It is estimated the 5,000 - 14,000 Humpbacks remain. The difficulty in deriving a true estimate goes to show how enigmatic they are.

While Moby Dick by Herman Melville [photo right] is one of my favorite novels, primarily because of the endearing but wacky relationship of the narrator Ishmael to the native Queequeg, I do not believe it is okay to portray whales or wolves or any animal as unprovoked monsters. That being said, the tale was inspired by two true stories: the sinking of the ship Essex by a sperm whale as well as a ferocious, white sperm whale, Mocha Dick, who attacked vessels off the coast of Chili and was purported to have many spears in his back. I would probably be attacking anything in sight with even one spear in my back.

It is not only their elusive natures that is alluring but also their size! On one of the two whale watching trips I took to Hawaii, I witnessed the awe-inspiring breech of a Humpback whale. I try to envision what it would be like - how deep I would go, the force of my fluke as I pumped the water with enough force to propel my 35-50 feet and 23-30 tons skyward. The power and glory!

When I was 19, I took a solo trip up the coast of California and stopped for a night at the home of family friends in Big Sur. After dinner I popped in a cassette tape into their stereo and one of the tracks was primarily whale calls. The family’s Yorkie began to croon. It sounded as though he were trying to copy the whales. We got a huge kick out of the dog’s response and kept replaying the track. But when they let the dog out, it never returned. I was so sad to witness the loss of a member of their family. We wondered if the little guy had gotten mauled by a wild animal, or if, perhaps, he had run as fast as his tiny legs could carry him, down to the beach and into the water, home at last.

Yesterday after yoga, as synchronicity goes, I heard a report on the radio about Victoria a three-year old Orca that washed on the Washington coast. Ken Balcomb, a researcher with the Center for Whale Research on Washington state's San Juan Island, has been studying the whales for more than 30 years and named Victoria. The strange part is that while she has blunt trauma all over her body, she has no broken bones, cuts or lacerations. They are speculating that it may be a Navy bomb or sonar that killed her, but the Navy is denying responsibility. The Navy’s “practice range covers an area about the size of California in the waters off the coast of Oregon and Washington” (NPR, May 17, 2012). More will hopefully be understood when underwater recordings from the time when Victoria died are released by the Navy in August. “ [photo of Orca L112, also known as Victoria, by Center for Whale Research]

About 50 million years ago the first whale-type mammal entered the seas,” although much smaller in size than whales of today. “Full grown males and females remain with their mother in family groups for their entire life, which spans 50 to 80 years” (Save the Whales). Evidently, they are a communal creature. I hope we will continue to protect them.

This past week, coincidentally, I have been using the whale as a metaphor for my life. As I pursue all four passions as fully as possible: mothering, dancing, writing and counseling, I am finding the places where they intersect, while also devoting hours to them separately. Four whales, under the surface of my life, take turns to rise from my soul to the surface - to command my energy and breathe deeply - inhabiting my space before descending again. I can’t see below the water, but one day my calling will become clear as though perhaps, had I waited a while longer while snorkeling, I might have seen a huge and graceful cetacean moving towards me in the watery haze.