I read a poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer this morning called "There is Only the Field" in which she talks about the death of her father. These lines have stayed with me today:
When death arrives, I want to bring
my softest self. I won't bargain,
but I will tell death it's taking the best of us--
the one who worked hardest to survive.
I guess it is getting older that is making me softer to death. Not welcoming it, such to say, as to recognizing the way a life gives back in death, in the ways you describe this dear whale doing so. Much the same way we carry the wisdom and goodness of our loved ones who have passed with us. Trommer's poem ends with these lines:
I want to tell death, "You don't get all of him.
I carry in me his goodness, his courage.
While I live, he will always be alive in this field."
How completely beautiful, Laura, thank you so much for sharing! "recognizing the way a life gives back in death," so wise, and such a beautiful way to grow softer in the way that we hold death alongside life...
Thank you Sydney. We can forget the solemn 'neath the beautiful. Thank you for so beautifully reminding us. I think if I was the person who discovered the "boings" in the language of whales I would want it on my headstone as a final celebration.
What a wonderful essay/meditation you shared, Sydney. Reading of this event, I was reminded of one quite the opposite. I had escaped solo to Cape San Blas a distance from my home and nearly detached from the mainland of Florida. A barrier island in the northern Gulf of Mexico. August, late 70’s or very early 80’s. Upon arrival I heard heavy equipment that proved to be a team of bulldozers. Going west to see about the commotion I learned three whales had beached earlier that day. You can guess the rest. No possibility for the stages you described post mortem to commence the natural return to Earth you so wonderfully shared with us. The only trace was my seeing later, around dusk, a sizable army of fiddler crabs processing the internment site with their large claws waving! Now, having learned so much from your powerful post, I can only wish the State Park Service had possessed that same big picture understanding of what they should have done instead.
Oh wow, Gary, that sent me down a mini-rabbit-hole wondering if burying beached whales is still a common practice. And it is. So, so disappointing, although it's about what I expected once I thought more about it. Local authorities are looking for the most expedient way to get the problem out of sight, out of mind, and reduce whatever they assess to be the risks to public health and safety. It's a limited, reactionary viewpoint that doesn't really generate innovative or thoughtful solutions that will be beneficial over the long-run. For all of our human ingenuity, I know we could do better, if only we had our priorities straight. :(
This is stunning, Sydney! The way you honor the whale’s life and its graceful return to nourish the ocean is so moving. I felt that "ache" you mentioned, and yet the whole piece left me feeling connected and in awe of nature’s endless cycles. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story! 🌊💙
I went out whale watching in Eastport a few years back with a young friend of my family who has his captains license. It was an extraordinary experience in a small boat with minkes coming up right alongside of us. I am always saddened to read of a whale washing up to shore.
How wonderful, Pamela! That must hold such a special place in your heart.
Same here. Death is always a sad part of the natural cycle of things - but also, particularly with whales, I can't help but feel the tinge of human responsibility in a more personal way :(
Sydney, It was an incredible afternoon, one that I will never forget. And now that it is in the forefront of my memory I should gather up some photos soon and write about it. There’s a lot of heart heavy thoughts about the loss of whales, the overfishing of our waters by corporate fisheries, the warming of our waters. It’s all so heavy and feels so personal to me.
I look forward to seeing that, Pamela. It is very heavy, and I think in those terms increasingly often. This summer, our family was all really struck by how barren our local tidepools were compared to previous years. You hope that it's a natural cycle, that will swing back to some degree in future seasons, but how long can this broken system keep limping along? 💔
“It is always a delicate balance, when and how to share about the death of a wild creature. A balance between respect and reminder, rejecting spectacle, advancing memorial. The desire to inform, and honor, and contemplate.” And you delivered with such sensitivity Sydney. This was an exquisite memorial and reminder of the essential cycles of life of which we are all a part.
I read a poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer this morning called "There is Only the Field" in which she talks about the death of her father. These lines have stayed with me today:
When death arrives, I want to bring
my softest self. I won't bargain,
but I will tell death it's taking the best of us--
the one who worked hardest to survive.
I guess it is getting older that is making me softer to death. Not welcoming it, such to say, as to recognizing the way a life gives back in death, in the ways you describe this dear whale doing so. Much the same way we carry the wisdom and goodness of our loved ones who have passed with us. Trommer's poem ends with these lines:
I want to tell death, "You don't get all of him.
I carry in me his goodness, his courage.
While I live, he will always be alive in this field."
How completely beautiful, Laura, thank you so much for sharing! "recognizing the way a life gives back in death," so wise, and such a beautiful way to grow softer in the way that we hold death alongside life...
Thank you Sydney. We can forget the solemn 'neath the beautiful. Thank you for so beautifully reminding us. I think if I was the person who discovered the "boings" in the language of whales I would want it on my headstone as a final celebration.
Thanks, Ian! No kidding, what a legacy 🤣
What a wonderful essay/meditation you shared, Sydney. Reading of this event, I was reminded of one quite the opposite. I had escaped solo to Cape San Blas a distance from my home and nearly detached from the mainland of Florida. A barrier island in the northern Gulf of Mexico. August, late 70’s or very early 80’s. Upon arrival I heard heavy equipment that proved to be a team of bulldozers. Going west to see about the commotion I learned three whales had beached earlier that day. You can guess the rest. No possibility for the stages you described post mortem to commence the natural return to Earth you so wonderfully shared with us. The only trace was my seeing later, around dusk, a sizable army of fiddler crabs processing the internment site with their large claws waving! Now, having learned so much from your powerful post, I can only wish the State Park Service had possessed that same big picture understanding of what they should have done instead.
Oh wow, Gary, that sent me down a mini-rabbit-hole wondering if burying beached whales is still a common practice. And it is. So, so disappointing, although it's about what I expected once I thought more about it. Local authorities are looking for the most expedient way to get the problem out of sight, out of mind, and reduce whatever they assess to be the risks to public health and safety. It's a limited, reactionary viewpoint that doesn't really generate innovative or thoughtful solutions that will be beneficial over the long-run. For all of our human ingenuity, I know we could do better, if only we had our priorities straight. :(
Really interesting essay, Sydney. I like your message of "inform, honor, and contemplate." Thank you for sharing.
Thanks so much, Neil!
I agree, "inform, honor, contemplate" covers all aspects of a whale fall, or really this particular point in the life cycle of any animal.
Thank you, Sarah!
This is stunning, Sydney! The way you honor the whale’s life and its graceful return to nourish the ocean is so moving. I felt that "ache" you mentioned, and yet the whole piece left me feeling connected and in awe of nature’s endless cycles. Thank you for sharing this beautiful story! 🌊💙
Thank you, Mohika, I'm so glad to hear that! Truly, the highest purpose of that ache is definitely to lead to connection and awe 💕
Thank you for this piece and the honor you show these magnificent creatures.
Thank you so much, Julie, for being here to share with!
I went out whale watching in Eastport a few years back with a young friend of my family who has his captains license. It was an extraordinary experience in a small boat with minkes coming up right alongside of us. I am always saddened to read of a whale washing up to shore.
How wonderful, Pamela! That must hold such a special place in your heart.
Same here. Death is always a sad part of the natural cycle of things - but also, particularly with whales, I can't help but feel the tinge of human responsibility in a more personal way :(
Sydney, It was an incredible afternoon, one that I will never forget. And now that it is in the forefront of my memory I should gather up some photos soon and write about it. There’s a lot of heart heavy thoughts about the loss of whales, the overfishing of our waters by corporate fisheries, the warming of our waters. It’s all so heavy and feels so personal to me.
I look forward to seeing that, Pamela. It is very heavy, and I think in those terms increasingly often. This summer, our family was all really struck by how barren our local tidepools were compared to previous years. You hope that it's a natural cycle, that will swing back to some degree in future seasons, but how long can this broken system keep limping along? 💔
A ‘boing discoverer’. Love it. Another thoughtful, interesting essay. Life has so many chapters.
Thanks so much, Beth! So true, many choose-your-own-adventure twists and turns along the way :)
“It is always a delicate balance, when and how to share about the death of a wild creature. A balance between respect and reminder, rejecting spectacle, advancing memorial. The desire to inform, and honor, and contemplate.” And you delivered with such sensitivity Sydney. This was an exquisite memorial and reminder of the essential cycles of life of which we are all a part.
Thank you so much, Kimberly 💕
"Boings" ... oh yes