OCEAN Magazine Spring 2010, Issue 26                                                             

  





   Sea Love and Longing
   by Chris Morgan

   Oceanophilia
   by Wallace J. Nichols, PhD

   Dancing with a Whale
   by James Michael Dorsey

   Mana
   by Jana Orsinger

   Talking with Dolphins
   by Diane Buccheri

   Downstream of Consciousness
   by John Thomas Clark

   Singing through the Ocean
   by Diane Buccheri

   Beachfront Motel
   by Chris Perdue

   OCEAN Photography Contest Winner

   OCEAN Writing Contest Winner

   From the Journals of Constant Waterman
   by Matthew Goldman

   Atlantic Assault Part 2
   by Diane Buccheri

   I Woke to the Quiet
   by Melba Milak







A glimpse into this issue . . .





  
   SEA LOVE AND LONGING

   Written by Chris Morgan


   Before I understood what a woman was and even before I kissed a girl I fell in love with the sea. I do not mean
   that I liked the water. I mean that the summer I turned fourteen I discovered myself  in a full-blown affair with
   the ocean. Perhaps I should say simply that I discovered myself — leave out the prolonged seduction, the sweet
   collapse of ego boundaries, the dawning discovery, those indolent seasons of testing and teasing, the rough
   play complete with sharp wounds and healing hands, the honeyed pleasures of our mingling bodies with all the
   time commitment quietly rooting the heart, preparing to become the ruling principle of a life. Because in the
   end that’s what the ocean does — like any great love to which we give ourselves wholly and without restraint
   the ocean reminds us of who we are.

   It began as most attractions do, as merely an idea first, an involuntary consideration not to be ignored, a
   shadow moving across a corner of the eye. Then, imperceptibly, it grew into the gentlest infatuation, an
   uncomfortable urgency, a quiet distress. Later my stomach swooped and my blood beat at the thought of
   the days I would have with her. I began to dream of the sea. I lay awake and considered her moods. I tried to
   think what she looked like in the night, naked under starlight. I pondered the things that moved in her and
   wanted to know each of them carefully, intimately.


   Read the Full Essay










   OCEANOPHILIA: the Neuroscience of Emotion and the Ocean

   by Wallace J. Nichols, PhD


   Once I met a man who hated the ocean. Intensely, he said. He described to me fear, negative associations, and a general
   unease he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His aversion was so strong — especially when measured against my own great,
   unabashed love for the ocean — that I’ll never forget my bewilderment. Everyone I have ever known loves the ocean. I’m
   not talking about lower case “l” kind of love either, the kind that we apply indiscriminately to pop stars, sports teams, and
   chocolate bars. I mean the capital “L” kind of Love, the love that is unfathomable and ineffable, a fusion of respect,
   understanding, awe, sensuality, and mystery. 

   A few years ago, I read with great interest reports of interrogators at Guatánamo promising detainees a swim in the tropical
   ocean as an inducement to cooperation. From those small, hot jail cells, clad in heavy jumpsuits, the ocean must have looked
   mighty inviting. The technique worked.

   Later in the summer of 2003, on a coastal trek from Oregon to Mexico, I walked past a beachfront bungalow for sale in Del
   Mar, California. Eight hundred square feet, no lot, but the sound, smell, sight, touch, and taste of the Pacific awaited just
   beyond the bedroom window. The asking price? A cool $6.3 million. They got their asking price, then some.

   I’ve also spent a lot of time with fishermen around the world. I’ve seen their working love of the ocean up close. Theirs is
   boundless joy in the freedom of a wide open, big blue space. It is the irresistible draw to a life spent catching seafood. In
   one Mexican lobstering co-op I work with, the rogue member who dares violate the community rules of “how many” and
   “how big” is banished to the packing facility with a never-ending view of white walls and stainless steel tables instead of big
   blue. For them, it is the worst punishment imaginable. Few, if any, subvert the community standards.


   Photograph © Neil Ever Osborne, www.neileverosborne.com


   Read the Full Article

 




   
  DANCING WITH A WHALE
 
   Written and photographed by James Michael Dorsey


   We were hauled out on a long slope of granite on the backside of Hanson Island overlooking
   Blackfish Sound.

   This area of British Columbia, between Vancouver Island and the mainland of Canada, is an
   archipelago of countless islands, some no larger than a house. It was formed before official time
   began when the bowels of the earth rumbled and pushed up gigantic edifices of granite, forming
   what has come to be known as the Johnstone Strait. I like to think of it as God’s sculpture garden
   and believe he was having a good day when he carved it.

   In summer months, this is the place to see orcas. At least three resident pods inhabit these waters,
   feasting on the buffet of salmon that migrate north through this passage annually to spawn in the
   rivers and streams of the Pacific Northwest.

   The whales follow the fish and I follow the whales, and so a few friends and I were sitting on a granite
   slab the size of a parking lot waiting for nature to swim by as we ate our sandwiches and lounged like
   lizards, soaking up the slender fingers of sunlight filtering through the morning’s haze and drizzle.


    Photograph © James Michael Dorsey, www.jamesdorsey.com


   Read the Full Story






 
  TALKING WITH DOLPHINS

   by Diane Buccheri


   They swim with us. They play with us. They have been known to rescue us from the ocean and protect us from its perils. They heal us.

   Can they talk with us?

   Dolphins whistle, chirp, and click amongst themselves. They recognize one another and call to each other with individual signature
   whistles. These they begin to learn at birth. As they swim together, caring for one another,  playing, hunting and feeding, they chirp
   and click. Their clicks reverberate through miles of ocean water to others at a distance.

   What are they saying? We believe their signature whistles are like names. Do their chirps and clicks have specific meaning too?

   Living in water which is dense, they cannot see far, but water carries sound so their hearing capacity is extraordinarily developed.
   Living in light air, we rely most upon vision, our most developed sense.

   We hear their whistles, chirps, and clicks, but there is so much we do not hear. Much of their communication is beyond our range
   of hearing. Their phonation is dual and they can produce 5 sounds at once, creating a high speed complexity of sound. When we
   hear their whistles, chirps, and clicks, it may be similar to hearing only a few words of a sentence when a radio channel or cell phone connection is poor. It may be like snow on a television
   screen, or images coming clear then blanking out.

   A lot is missed. It’s there but not perceived by our hearing, or sight.


   Dolphin Picture Word CymaGlyph © John Stuart Reid, www.cymascope.com


   Read the Full Article







  











   SINGING THROUGH THE OCEAN

   by Diane Buccheri


   From pole to pole blue whales sing to one another. Halfway around the world, their songs resonate
   through the ocean, within its depths.

   The power.

   Moans, cries, grunts, squeals, and the like combine, creating what we can only describe as song.

   A series of sounds –– perhaps what sound to us like a long moan followed by two squeals then a grunt ––
   make a sequence. Several varied sequences come together forming a phrase. This phrase is repeated,
   again and again, and then a new series of noises making an entirely different phrase forms and is
   repeated, again and again. After variations of repetitious patterns building upon one another, the singer
   returns to the first phrase.

   The sounds of a whale song come together in a series of pitches, pulsed rhythmically, forming tonal
   vibrations that reverberate and echo throughout the dense water. It seems these song patterns are
   structured and organized, mathematically and grammatically arranged, one stemming from another,
   forming a melodic theme.


   Photograph © Inger Vandyke


   Read the Full Story
  










And so much more!