Journal of Sacred Work

"Don’t sort-of-maybe live, but live like you’re going all out, like you’re not afraid." – from The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

"Fossil
remains of manatee ancestors show they have inhabited Florida for about
45 million years. Modern manatees have been in Florida for over one
million years."  http://www.homesafe.com/manatee/ 

   By 7 p.m. February 20, the moon had cut itself into a thin slice of sky etched low in night’s dome. Hanging below it, Venus flickered, a distant campfire. When two powerful things are arranged like that, you look for a third to complete the alignment. The last part of the trinity appeared a few minutes later, breaking the surface of south Florida’s Intra-coastal waterway like a submarine’s periscope …

   The manatee is an awkward-looking animal out of water. But the night
hid that awkwardness and converted the dance of this endangered animal
into a ballet of waves swirling above his head. Then he surfaced,
exhaling a thin mist loud enough for us to hear.
   My wife and I had the good luck to see all of this. Leaving the controlled comfort of indoors, we sat on a balcony and drank in the life of night. There’s nothing risky about any of this. Still, I thought of the line Sue Monk Kidd puts into the mouth of her wise character, August: "Don’t sort-of-maybe live…"
   From the beginning, my hope for this journal was that it would be a lighthouse for caregivers. A place that would offer guidance for those seeking rest, support and a richer way to live.
   Often, I feel as though I’m gaining more than I give when I write these meditations. I thought about you as my wife and I enjoyed a final night of vacation in the warmth and beauty of this part of the country.
   The air is often soft in south Florida in February. It holds none of the bite the north delivers with her winter teeth. "The air is so soft," my ninety-four year old mother often remarked during the days before she boarded a plane to return to her home in northern Ohio.
   I don’t think my mother is afraid of anything anymore. She faces into each day not-sort-of-maybe living her life but fully grateful for the days she has.
   Do we have to live to be ninety-four before we can learn such grace, courage and wisdom?
   As my wife and I watched this particular manatee, we caught sight of a power boat approaching from the south and a water taxi cruising down from the north. The manatee, swimming in the waters between, has seen this sight before. Manatees are curious animals. Many bear the scars of propellers on their hides. They have no natural predators and they are natural vegetarians.
   The manatee’s biggest enemy is us. Watercraft collisions are a major cause of death for these kind and harmless animals. Only about three thousand of them are left on this earth. Their fragile existence is, perhaps, a commentary on the survivability of an animal who is gentle, causes no harm, and eats vegetables.
   Is there hope for such a being? The manatee, like us, wants to live unafraid. But our aggressive world keeps pushing into theirs.
   If love is to survive and thrive in the world, we must honor the life of gentle animals like the manatee. That is what I thought as the boats passed by and the animal swam away into the night, off to some corner of the water where the noise of our world might leave her in peace. At least for awhile.

-Erie Chapman