Susan Feathers

Mirror, mirror on the wall, whose the fairest one of all?

The Washington Post carried a good review of events at the 20-year convocation of the Rio Summit on the Environment.  Before it opened, an agreement was signed by world leaders that most experts and advocates of the environment agree was milk toast when it should have been garlic toast!  However, some leaders are not daunted by this outcome, accepting it as par for a world focused on short-term economic crises.  Others – leaders of less developed countries, many which harbor the world’s richest biodiversity – are outraged that the leaders of the U.S., China, India and other blockbuster economies are not properly assuming responsibility for the pollution of the atmosphere, massive use and diminution of resources, and impacts on people in countries that were historically conquered and colonized in past centuries.

I tire of these repeated dramas; regular as waves on a beach head.  Hunger rages on where despots reign or small subsistence communities have been disrupted by “progress” or capitalization.

The point made by less developed countries is well taken: we are more culpable than other countries.  As human beings, when we take time or get a chance to look another human being in the eye, compassion generally emerges, the altruistic side of us homo sapiens.  Its human touch that grounds two people to the realization they are linked by each others’ happiness and welfare.  Go a step further to take time to commune with nature.  Not hunting or running or hiking or even nature exploration. I am talking about something as simple as sitting outside to watch a sunset, taking in a deep long breath, and thinking nothing. Just feeling. The heart is beating in your chest, your skin prickles in a breeze. Again, the moment reminds us that we are not separate from the earth beneath our feet.

Can we really expect to make important very long range decisions on the run, multitasking, stimulating every neuron and orifice?

If we look into the Rio Summit Mirror, are we the fairest of all?

Everyone should be blessed with a father like mine.  At nearly 95 he is still active, alert, caring and very, very good company.  I am nearly 67 and my “little sister” is 53.  We spent a pleasant lunch with Dad discussing everything from outhouses to computers.  Born in 1917, he remembers no indoor toilets, rigging up a shower (bucket on a rope slung over a barn rafter), and when his farmhouse home in rural Tennessee was first wired with electricity – a bare bulb hanging on a wire.  How did he span from there to flying bombers, to living independently as a septuagenarian whose online chat group entertains friends and family?  He is a man who has continually reinvented himself and he is a man who has overcome great periods of difficulty and disappointment.  I believe my Dad’s daily routine of getting up at dawn, flinging back the drapes, opening the door, lighting up a pipe, making a good cup of coffee and sitting by the window to watch the sun rise, the birds  at the feeders he has managed for decades, and his quiet meditation on the gift of another day is the ground from which he draws such steadfastness.  Dad is gentle in spirit, mischievous in nature, and loving and compassionate in his heart.  He never harmed anyone in his entire near century of living.  That is saying something. But mostly, he has loved me and my sisters when we probably didn’t deserve it – through the vagaries of life – he has been a rock. Our children have also found a loving grandfather and refuge whenever they have needed him.  My gratitude is great today.

Anne Rudloe – author, scientist, conservationist, and Zen Teacher passed away on Friday, April 27th at her home in Panacea, Florida.  For those of you who have not read her books about the natural ecology of Florida habitats, you are in for a real treat when you do so.  She had just published a second book on Zen practice before  she died (Zen In a Wild Country).  Her passing leaves a cavern in the heart and soul of the Forgotten Coastal area where she and her husband Jack Rudloe founded the Gulf Specimen Marine Laboratory and Environmental Education Center.  Anne and Jack Rudloe are passionate defenders of Florida’s long leaf pine communities, coastal marine life, and sea turtles.  Their efforts span decades and they are notorious for preventing development to overrun critical habitats in Florida.  Anne was an adjunct professor at Florida State University where she mentored many young scientists and future conservationists.

Anne’s best work of natural history in my view is Priceless Florida  coauthored with Elie Whitney and Bruce Means.  I spent days pouring over the descriptions of the State’s major ecosystems, watersheds, and wildlife communities. This is a Florida Nature Bible for readers who wish to learn the amazing and fragile landscapes and natural resources that humankind has been diminishing since we first arrived on its bays bayous swamps beaches and forested land.

To truly experience the expertise and care that Anne and Jack put into the books they wrote together, I recommend that you read Shrimp, The Endless Quest for Pink Gold.

I met Anne and Jack last summer on a trip to explore the Forgotten Coast and my quest as a new Floridian to find the “Olde Florida” way of life.  A year earlier my sister pointed me toward Jack’s books which she read and loved over the years:  The Living Dock, The Erotic Ocean, The Sea Brings Forth and others written in the 60s, 70s and on. I decided to visit the lab and see if I could chat with Jack and Anne about writing some grants for them.  I ended up spending the afternoon with them and buying a couple hundred dollars worth of their books and conscripting them into signing each one!  How fortunate I was to have any time at all with this wonderful family and the places that they have created for all of us to learn more about nature and thus more about ourselves.  Anne shared her experiences with cancer from when she first learned about it to that day when she was feeling good because she was in between chemotherapy treatments.

Jack drove me out into their beloved swamp – 18 acres that abuts a natural wildlife refuge – the place where Anne meditated.  We drove right up to her on no roads, Jack swerving around the broad base of a virgin cypress, as she sat dressed in all white flowing clothing and straw hat, a colorful umbrella over her head.  It was threatening rain.  How generous both Jack and Anne were to take me to lunch and then to spend hours describing how it all came to be – their dream, wrought out of years of toil and shaky finances – living on grants and what they gleaned from their marine specimen service to research labs all over the country.

For months after I met Anne and Jack I had Anne’s YouTube video – the Nature of Cancer – on my blog.  A close friend of mine received tremendous comfort from it as she was also going through her own struggle with cancer at the time. Many people wrote me that her words were profoundly meaningful to them.  Anne’s practice of Zen Buddhism undergirded her personal perspective on nature and toward the end of her life the full flowering of her understanding comes through dramatically in this latest book which I am reading.  In fact, two days before she passed away I thought of her and went online to the laboratory website and saw that she had a blog. She had made a recent post so I did not even imagine that she might be gone two days later.  I ordered the book and intended to drive down to Panacea in a few weeks to capture that signature again and see how everyone was doing.

To Anne:  I thank you for the legacy of your life’s work and dreams.  And, I bless you on your path into the wonderment that you glimpsed so recently.  May we all reach that place of wordless union with all things.

About 100 fishermen and women and kids were on the pier yesterday pulling in Spanish mackeral and an occasional red drum.  The weather was spectacular, the Gulf strong with a brisk southeasterly breeze prevailing.

Small dolphins (or porpoises?) were also fishing near by, and Golden eagle rays sped by as dark forms under the pier.  A variety of bait, tackle, and techniques could be observed.  I learned that a small silver fish – thin fins – are used to attract King Mackerel.  Most were using something called a “Gotcha!” lure that swims with the slightest tug on the line and shimmers like a menhaden.

I enjoy watching young fishermen and certainly love the fisherman’s garb and paraphernalia!

I am gathering images, ideas, and information for a new book that I am planning now, about a young boy who fishes, but who is fishing for his meals and not necessarily for sport.

When the Gulf Oil Spill (BP Deep Water Horizon) occurred, the fishing was only catch and release for a year.  I wondered what all the families did who fish every weekend for protein.  Many do here…fish for food.

The Pensacola pier was rebuilt after Hurricane Ivan to be much stronger and will probably endure for many decades to come.  There is a nice fishing and tackle shop there, a breakfast and lunch concession, t-shirt concession, and a snow cone cart:

My good friend sent this video to me of an remarkable event and interaction between beach goers in Brazil and a group of grounded dolphins. I am fascinated with how people along the beach react and how naturally the species interaction goes off.  How did the people who helped them feel after that interaction?  For me, it might be life changing.  For the dolphins it surely was….

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