The Whale Within

This last morning of our visit to the Coast, as grey settles out of darkness, I sit in the hot tub, a light drizzle--more like a mist--floating down. My eyes roam the ocean surface, vast and calm so far today, waves rolling in roars of long straight lines along the shore.


Having concentrated so hard for so many years on this vision of whale spouts and flukes as representative of my return, I realize this is my last chance. From the top of Neahkahnie yesterday, my son glimpsed one while I was turned away, the excitement in his voice allaying any doubt, but any possible sighting of mine has been vague and unconfirmed.

Likewise, I know eagles soar overhead, their white crown stunning against the backdrops of sea and mountain. Later, on a walk alone along the beach, my son also was privileged yesterday to see that beauty clearly, while this morning I have heard the unmistakable screech, but seen nothing but gulls.

The mighty Sitka Spruce, four to six feet thick and 200 feet tall, branches akimbo and floating against a century of stiff winter gales, surround me, eternal sentries on the mountainside. The ocean roar as steady as invisible cars on a nearby highway, but so much more dense with spirit, accompanies the stillness of the awakening day.

Each morning here at this predawn hour, I have opened my eyes to the beat of my heart racing so swiftly, nearly painful with the ache of joy and inspiration. Ambivalence and doubt about my determination to write this story are erased with a certainty profound and indisputable, as clear as the eagle's cry, yet I reach for no pad or pen, but lie still, absorbing the silence. the stars above companions whispering their message.

Words are flowing plentifully in this environment, more in my mind than on this page, but flowing with a spirit unstoppable. They come not from me, but through me; the danger, in fact, being that my ego gets in the way, interrupts the deluge by too much effort to twist, manipulate or censor the naked beauty of pure thoughts.

Intuition is easy to trust here on this mountain, in this home where Lane and Tom have spent three decades opening the portals. Shrines natural and human, discovered serendipitously and placed ceremoniously, ground the energy safely even as we learn, experience by experience, our purpose is to allow our spirits to soar. The creation of a community of like-minded souls who feel drawn to this power has been intended, substantial and amorphous, continually evolving around those who come, go and stay. Like rappelling over a cliff, one who dares becomes giddy with trust, playful amongst the awesome sobering reality of such an immense and cohesive Universe.

True to her nature to stimulate and challenge, Lane invited me to pull Tarot cards around certain issues at the forefront of my journey. Surrounding one, in particular, the major card was "Strength", an image of a woman peacefully closing the jaws of a lion. The interpretation speaks of taming the wild spirit with an internal assurance that can allow the passions to flourish, feminine natural instincts, intuition and emotion releasing the passion to move forward with courage and strength, undertaking great risk with inner calm.

On each of these mornings, I have lain awake, intrigued and inspired, empowered and rejuvenated, determined to listen better with my heart and less with my mind. Trust with complete faith that our basic goodness will overcome hardships, love surmount fears, patient intuition over power manipulations. These attributes of spirit are so difficult to hold centered in our beings in this busy world, but resound so clearly when we allow ourselves to let go and float among the whales.

On this trip, I do not have to see them actually; it is a lesson more valuable to be reminded that the true leviathan lives always within.

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