This is the story of an improbable rescue.
Delray Beach footpath. Photo: Public domain
The outcome of the US election was not the one I had hoped for or voted for. I know I’m not alone in this, nor am I alone in experiencing sudden strong emotional reactions in response to the acts of this new administration.
For survivors of sexual abuse and sexual assault (officially 44% of adult women in the U.S., though habitual underreporting means this figure is probably much higher), it has been terrifying to see more and more men in positions of power who show no remorse for misogyny and abusive behaviour. This empowers others to behave badly, with an obvious sense of entitlement and impunity.
The atmosphere of unchecked threat makes it harder for survivors to speak up for ourselves and others when any imbalance of power rears its head. Yet at the same time, it is ever more crucial that we do speak up. Many survivors find their chronic PTSD is triggered more frequently, while feeling even less able to respond with adult capability when a crisis strikes. This horrible paradox can quickly set off the paralysing cycle of diminishing self-esteem and increasing helplessness which survivors know only too well.
Yesterday was one of those days. I looked at the news and was instantly overwhelmed by anxiety, rage, grief, and despair. Unable to function, I turned my back on my day and my deadlines, and went back to bed.
It’s been many years since my own childhood trauma and teenage rape. In the intervening decades, I have learned to stay present with my feelings, even the painful ones, with acceptance, love and compassion. I’m lucky to have many resources to hand: mantras and affirmations; poems and prayers; Jin Shin Jyutsu and chi gong; loved ones to talk to; music and dance; the power of nature; and so much more.
Here in Florida, on my annual retreat, with my best medicine – the Atlantic Ocean – just across the street, it still took a lot of time and inner work to persuade myself to get up and walk the path to the beach. But I did it.
Once there, much later than usual, my sore hip – another unwanted limitation! – prevented me from walking quickly, so I just ambled along the tideline, singing prayers as I often do. The theme that emerged was my heartfelt wish to be of service, despite my flaws – to be sent where I can be useful, to any person or situation needing help of any kind.
The answer came – in the shape of a seahorse! Washed up on the beach, disguised by seaweed, alive and writhing. Overwhelmed with amazement and awe, I carefully lifted the fragile being and carried it into the gentle waves.
I did not have a phone or camera with me, but I found this photo later, by Matthew Sullivan, aka formerlyhomelessphotographer on Instagram (there is surely another rescue story there). The one I saved was of this species, the Lined Seahorse, and it had an even larger belly, so was likely an expectant male. I love this, because it felt like nature’s reminder of the archetype of the Good Father, whose instinct is to tend, love, support, and care.
My own dear father was one of the best. We often walked this beach together, and I miss him more than I can say. He would have loved to see the seahorse. For me, the seahorse was a symbol of the healthy kind of maleness, the Good Man who protects and nurtures. I trust this virtue will rise again, among the good men of our era, even in these vicious times.
I stayed to watch, in case the little seahorse might wash up again and need another rescue, but it seemed to have found safety. I like to think of it home again, anchored in its underwater meadow.
And then the beach gave another gift: a cowrie shell with the back broken off – still beautiful despite its flaws. In fact, because of its broken back, it will be easy to turn this particular shell into an ornament or amulet – which makes it ‘better’ than shells we might call ‘whole’. As some readers know, I’ve been struggling for ten years to recover from a broken back, so this felt like a special gift for me.
In saving the seahorse, I too felt saved. My anxiety dissipated. Filled with gratitude and grace, I returned home happy and inspired, and wrote for hours in contented calm.
This is the message from the ocean: we are all connected, to all of Life. We can learn to go gently with ourselves and others, to forgive our flaws and find the beauty. My emotional and physical limitations yesterday led me to the perfect place at the perfect time to save the seahorse. My imperfections were the key. No matter what, I trust I will be brought to the place I pray for, where I can serve.
So we might as well accept ourselves, and each other, as best we can. As Gabor Maté says, a practice of Compassionate Inquiry leads us to self-compassion, and then to compassion for all beings. From that place, we are able to offer lateral kindness instead of lateral violence, in the words of Penobscot wise woman Sherri Mitchell. And the women’s ritual dances I have spent my life researching are wonderful tools to help us practice values of community, generosity, and mutual support.
We are blessed to have the chance to connect. We may even be blessed to have these wounds – because how else would we learn healing? We stand together with our flaws, accepting ourselves and each other as best we can. United in imperfection, we see what we share, and can thus overcome all that divides us – even, or perhaps especially, within ourselves.
Our world needs this blessing, now more than ever. We are asked to call on all of the sources we can know and name, for divine power and protection.
And sometimes the way to connect to that power and protection is to be the one who gives it where it is needed – even to a tiny seahorse.
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Wonderful. My heart goes out to you as a survivor of abuse myself we walk a difficult path but your post gave me so much hope, there are no such things as coincidences.
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Thank you, Adele Marie. My support and sympathy to you too, and to everyone who may not have had to survive sexual abuse personally, but is nevertheless affected by the abuse of our planet and our ideals of democracy, justice and peace. Everyone is having to walk a difficult path.
You are right, these magical encounters are not mere coincidences, but gifts and messages sent to remind us that we are part of a loving universe. We have the right to heal and be healed. Blessings to you on your journey.
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and blessed be to you too, Laura. x
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Thanks, Laura, for this post. I am preparing a meditation on the life of Brigid for an Imbolc ritual this afternoon, and your words completely resonate with her practice of gifting and of healing.
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“This empowers others to behave badly, with an obvious sense of entitlement and impunity”. This attitude is what terrifies me the most about living in this country at this time.
Unlike you I cannot listen to the news – there is nothing I can do and the news is a primal assault on my mind soul and body.
The story you tell about getting yourself outdoors is key – because all of nature is suffering too and s/he responds to us as she did with you – that sea horse holds another message – Nature is under assault in ways few comprehend – S/he sent you a plea…and you answered the call.
One more salient point – the Good father exists – and these protectors can really help – too often feminists seem to forget that there are many good men in this world who are as horrified as we are about what’s happening.
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Thank you, Laura.
Let us pause & thank people who help us as they are the ones who make a massive difference in our lives, to practice the art of seeing, and, relishing in the soul of others as a higher state of shift in awareness.
To merely gaze upon their outer qualities is to take a very limited and incomplete approach, peer deep into their hearts and observe their deeds, sometimes angels are just simple people who help us in resurrecting a belief in the miraculous.
The hippocampus, often regarded as a symbol of hope dwells deep within the mythology of the sea. Appearing half horse and half fish to early seafarers, as a good omen– the seahorse was
strongly associated with creative imagination.
This benevolence extended into the spiritual realm as sailors regarded the hippocampus as a doer of good deeds for those worthy and also as symbolic of transformation, sleek agility and redoubtable strength.
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Thank you, Randee, for sharing these insights into the symbolic meaning of the seahorse. I was not aware of all of this – I only knew my strong attraction to them all my life, and the sense that they have good energy. I feel so lucky to have seen and saved one.
“The hippocampus, often regarded as a symbol of hope dwells deep within the mythology of the sea. Appearing half horse and half fish to early seafarers, as a good omen– the seahorse was
strongly associated with creative imagination. This benevolence extended into the spiritual realm as sailors regarded the hippocampus as a doer of good deeds for those worthy and also as symbolic of transformation, sleek agility and redoubtable strength.”
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Thank you for this journey, Laura. I bet the number of women sexually assaulted is higher than 44%. We are a traumatized culture. Its hard to reconcile that people would vote for even more trauma. Healing ourselves, finding these meaningful moments, these seem to me the stepping stones we all need for the process of seeking whole-ness. Thank you for sharing this uplifting moment in your life.
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Yes, Janet, I am sure you are right. So many women do not feel safe to report assault and abuse – and for many, when the assault comes from loved and trusted friends or family, it can be difficult to even name it for ourselves. I believe that even for the lucky ones who don’t have their own experience of such trauma, simply knowing that we live in a world where so many women do suffer must be equally traumatising in its own way. Likewise, we all are horrified witnesses to the abuse and exploitation of our natural world and all its treasures. which should be cherished for all and held in common, but instead are sacrificed for individual profit. It is the same trauma. Yet the moments of beauty and insight are still there for us if we have eyes to see. I love your image of them as ‘the stepping stones we all need for the process of seeking whole-ness.’ They are certainly that for me and I don’t think I would make it without them.
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I am always so moved when our non human beings tend to us in the just perfect ways. I had a beautiful experience recently with an owl, who perished, but I was able to care for in a sacred way that felt essential to its passage into the next world as well as my passage in this life. I felt less tethered to the harsh realities of the current horrors of our times and more at peace and in tune with the greater realms. I feel we are forever bonded in spirit just like you and that precious seahorse.
And the cowrie shell! What a divine feminine symbol, without the back you have a clear opening to all the goddess has in store for you. :) My message anyway.
Be well dear sister, you are always in my heart.
Love, Nada
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Who, what and where we turn to in crises tells us much about ourselves. Carol Christ noted that at times of crisis, bafflement, or defeat our minds can revert to familiar structures. In your writing you shared a variety of emotional and/or physical resources you continue to rely on to cope with all we are now facing. Yes, as women we are especially vulnerable to the epidemic of male violence and the intense misogyny of the patriarchal institutions surrounding us.
Seeking the comfort of Mother Nature in the form of the sand and sea (despite your own physical limitations) is a time-honored way to restore our own vitality. What a sharp eye for detail you had that day as you ambled along to see the struggling seahorse watching for help. He had not given up. His own “lust for life” saved himself and saved you from your despair. Another day of tiny blessings…….
Wishing you many more, Paula
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Thank you, dearest Paula, for your response and for own sharp eye, noting the ‘variety of emotional and/or physical resources’ which are helping me ‘cope with all we are now facing’. I am certain I am not the only woman needing extra support right now – and this does motivate me to try to be the one to give that extra support whenever I can.
What still amazes me and fills me with awe about the seahorse encounter is that if I hadn’t been so anxious that day (and had walked on the beach at my usual, much earlier time), AND if I hadn’t had my sore hip, which caused me to walk slowly instead of at my usual faster pace, I would never have seen the seahorse. The rescue happened because of, not in spite of, the two main ‘limitations’ affecting me that day.
My own rescue, then, is to be given yet another experience revealing the good things that can come from living with disability, instead of only the obstacles. And to be shown yet again that my physical disability does not hinder my connection to the cosmos, whose sacred synchronicities will still ensure I am sent where I may be of service, as I prayed. And that feels like a huge blessing, not tiny at all!
Love and many blessings (little and large!) to you too, dear Paula.
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