Whale Music

The last vestiges of winter are upon us.  Spring sits, poised, ready to spring into action as we complete the deep work that many of us have been doing over the past few months.  What does Oona, nestled smugly in the balmy climes of Hawaii know about winter, some of you may ask? February was the coldest month I have ever experienced here, we had massive storms with pounding rain and chilly winds, booming thunder, flashes of lightening, flooding roads and hail.  It seemed the weather was imitating my emotional state as I dipped into deep states of grief, rage and despair.  What has happened to Maeve, Queen of the fairies and her often sunny disposition I wailed?  Where on earth is her magic wand or her ruby slippers or her feather bed, at least, for goodness sake? Like the protaganist of the Princess and the Pea, I have been sleeping fitfully upon my mattress, restlesslessly seeking comfort.  I have been a reluctant gypsy, a cantankerous Peter Pan clinging to the wonderous realms of an ephemeral Never, Never Land.

And then, just when I wondered if all my years of growth and healing had somehow been misplaced, I watched the February full moon rise, golden and peaceful in the clear, cool night.  I felt the North wind blow her freshness upon my cheeks, feeling the snow that covers the mountains in her breath and I marvelled at the wonder of it all.  I gave thanks for my heart wrenching decision to cancel my West coast tour and stay here for this last month of blessed winter. 

Today, I dove into a steel grey, yet unusually calm ocean, shivering as the cold currents enfolded my nakedness.  My skin felt smooth and tight like the skin of a seal. As I swam out of the bay I was greeted by the underwater song of humpback whales. Like old friends, their voices reverberated through me, filling my heart.  They crooned bits and pieces of their journey from my birthplace, the Pacific Northwest, to here, they sang of their hunt for a mate and reminded me of a mystery that extends beyond words, beyond the ocean's vastness.

It seems that transformative times are upon us.  There is no avoiding ourselves.  There will be more storms, of this I am sure.  And so, like talisman, I gather the moments that pierced through last months' pain - seal skin and whales' songs, two white owls encircling me as I drove in sorrow through the night, two white mountain peaks, Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, breathtaking in their beauty, emerging after a day of dark, grey skies and endless rain, the deep,sweet slumber of a baby that enfolded me as I curled upon mother earth and slept.

I am blessed.

Oona