When I was invited to join my husband for his business trip to Hawaii, I got busy planning.
We could visit some of our favorite West Coast people, pay our respects at the Pearl Harbor Memorial, explore the natural beauty of the island, and go find us some wild dolphins to play with. While all of these plans were lovely, it was the bucket list wild dolphin swim that made my heart beat faster.
Truth be told, I had visions of dolphins swimming in a circle around me in warm Caribbean water.
Maybe popping in for a little nudge or kiss on the cheek. So when I read the fine print regulations requiring humans to keep their distance from marine life, my fantasy deflated a tiny bit. Yet, my heart swelled with the wisdom of allowing dolphins their space.
I’ve learned second hand through my Marine Scientist offspring how close human interactions and boats don’t bode well for marine mammals.
So, I was cool with the distance rule. Trusting every whale, dolphin, turtle, and surprise marine guest would find their way to our mutual encounter. Arriving in Oahu, I heard snippets of news about the huge waves on the North Shore that were disrupting the international surfing competition. While fascinating, it had nothing to do with me given that I’d never go near a big wave, let alone balance on a surfboard.
My healthy respect (fear) of this vast ocean jazzed my nervous system just watching tv coverage of tiny humans standing on tiny boards on tremendously huge mountains of water.
Breathing deeply, I remembered that I booked us a sweet frolic with the dolphins on the East side of the island, far from the wild North. However, I forgot Oahu was an island, not a large continent. Turns out high winds and waves in one area actually impact other areas. Weather. Go figure. Given my propensity for sea sickness, I prepared well with my pre-adventure dose of Bonine and a night of dreaming about mild waves and dolphin kisses.
That dream crashed when the captain called to cancel our journey due to, get this, high waves.
If the boat couldn’t safely make it out of the harbor and the waves were too high for snorkeling, the trip was cancelled. Okay, bummer, but safety first. Especially ‘cause I’m not a water baby and rough seas are not my jam. Problem was I couldn’t reschedule because other Bonine laced tourists were gonna swim with my dolphins. Flexibly shifting plans, I booked another naturalist tour on our last full day.
Trusting we’d have time for some splashing in the dolphin pool before returning to see Hamilton in Honolulu.
Racing toward the open sea offered a new perspective of beautiful mountains, undeveloped valleys, beaches and cliffs. This was the magnificent Hawaii I had longed for and it was thrilling to witness. My Bonine filled system protected me from feeling sea sick, so I felt free, alive, and enthusiastic. I called out to the dolphins with my grateful heart, letting them know that Kathy Milano and a few friends had come to play.
And here came the pod of spotted dolphins, joyfully answering that call.
Mothers and calves, singles and couples, they swam with us through this vast fluid playground. I’d like to say we were surrounded by 50 dolphins, but I know things get exaggerated in the wonder of the moment. So, most likely, there were 45. No shit. The largest pod I’ve ever had the privilege of zooming around with.
They weren’t paying attention to that 50 yard distance rule and I wasn’t complaining.
Our tiny group of tourists and marine biologist guides were one big body of delight. Even that really sea sick dude who was wearing my acupressure bands was grinning like a maniac.
It seemed like forever that we all played, marveled, and witnessed a few hot shot leaping dolphins.
The captain stopped the boat, and in silent wonder, we surveyed the pod who stayed with us. It was a moving adventure. There was nothing on my mind and plenty of gratitude in my body.
The biologist had an announcement.
I was about to jump up and shout “Oh Yeah!” like a crazy wild dolphin freak, but she continued her spiel.
“There are two things you need to know. First, we are in a thousand feet of water.” No worries there, ‘cause I had no plans to touch the bottom.
“Second,” she said in a really solemn voice, “in this deep water there is always the danger of sharks.”
Dun dun. Dunn dunn. Dunnnn duuuun. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome that mythical beast of a party pooper: Jaws.
My whole body flooded with cortisol. I immediately flashed back to 1975 and the Jersey shore with friends. We scared ourselves silly with that movie and I’ve been a chicken shit in the ocean ever since. It’s normally not a problem since I’m not a water baby and rarely go in the ocean. Unless I’m in the Caribbean.
You could’ve heard a pin drop amidst that pod of frolicking dolphins.
Not one person moved a muscle. So, I apparently wasn’t alone. I looked at the other gung ho snorkelers and that 6 foot dude was shaking his head no. My stomach sank as if some part of me had made a clear decision that there was no way I was swimming with sharks that day. My dream was mid crash when her solemn voice broke in with a lilt, “But, if it’s on your bucket list, now is your chance.”
I be a brave, brave girl. I stood up and in a teeny tiny voice asked three questions.
“How long before you spot those tourist eating sharks? How long do you think we have to make it back to the boat?” and “Will you come in with me?” With a few directions about how not to flail about in the water, move slowly toward the boat if I heard the captain call “Jaws Approaching!” and confirmation that I’d have a chaperone, I turned to get my mask and snorkel.
Well, look who else was brave. My husband was nodding and ready to go even though he hated to snorkel.
Only two (non)seafaring adventurers prepared for entry. Here’s the thing with getting in the water with 45 spotted dolphins who decided to follow the distance rule while I battled my terror of Jaws. This mythic beast and my active imagination of my demise put a damper on my experience. Can’t lie about that.
I was so busy monitoring the ocean, mastering my dead lady float, breathing like Darth Vader, and listening for a warning, that I almost forgot to check out my dream dates.
I’m good at managing stress and I do be brave, so I spent as much time as I could redirecting my focus to the dozens of small dolphins swimming by us. It was magical with a tiny dose of fear. The bummer about fear dampening down my brain’s frontal lobe function, thus diminishing my higher order critical thinking and problem solving, was that I missed two simple facts.
Jaws was a movie. And I had a one in 5 million chance of being bitten by a shark.
I wish that biologist had used her encouraging, delighted voice while throwing pixie dust and adding these fun facts to her announcement. Still, I swam with lots of wild dolphins and made it out alive. We both did. I learned a lot about bucket lists, flexible dreaming, old fears with big jaws, and that whales spend a lot of time underwater between sightings.
I ended up taking a small nap during Hamilton.
Nothing dramatic, just resetting my system so I could delight in my next, very safe landlocked Hawaiian adventure.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Marine Mammals are swimming in way too much plastic, all of which is placed there by humans. Ouch. That hurts your dolphin loving heart. The good news is that many organizations are committed to improving the health of the ocean by removing plastic, interrupting plastic pollution before it arrives, and raising awareness. A quick swim in Google will reveal eco-friendly gifts or ethical organizations devoted to improving life for our marine friends. You can donate, use less plastic, pick up trash (it flows downstream). volunteer, and educate yourself about the negative human impact on the ocean. And the creative solutions addressing it all. Your tiny actions can make huge waves toward safer marine habitats. All without getting wet.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
In September, I’m returning to the Temples of Humankind in Damanhur, Italy. It feels like an understatement to claim that this is a place of power, mystery, and majesty. Yet, I’ve found this to be true for myself and those I’ve met who’ve traveled within the extraordinary to the Temples and the community of Damanhur.
One cool Spring morning, I stepped on the treadmill at the gym looking forward to walking a few miles. Recovering from an injury, I had to walk at a moderate pace so I had brought my copy of What Is Enlightenment? magazine to explore. I always found something to inspire me within this publication focused upon consciousness, culture, and cosmos.
Stress is a natural experience in life. It’s often viewed as a doorway to disruption of wellbeing, peace of mind, and a clear navigational path in a challenging situation.
I’m a bit of a news hound these days. As one who hasn’t watched a newscast in years, I’m surprising myself. Ordinarily, I wait for the news to come to me. And it does. When something is important for me to know or respond to, I hear about it. Kind friends, clients, my husband, or a random stranger share a soundbite which cues me to look into a situation further. I’ve been very comfortable with this level of engagement for years now.
In the midst of our country’s woes, I’ve got Lucinda Williams singing in my head.
“You can’t rule me
you wanna go and tell me what’s good for me
you wanna tell me what I’m payin’ for
Well, the game is fixed, it’s plain to see
I ain’t playin’ no more”
I drove through a hail storm today. It began gently, offering a musical accompaniment to my journey. Intensifying, the hail noisily demanded my attention.
