The Story Told by the Waves

We went for the first paddle on Georgian Bay this week.  The winds finally died down so the water was glassy with the barest hint of ripples on it.  We took the 18 foot freighter canoe with the tiny motor across the big water to Canary Island, named for the Wild Canaries or Goldfinches that frequent it.  Once in the channel that separates the island into two pieces, we cut the motor and paddled.  The brand new cattails were just starting to rise above the surface of the water amidst the dry yellow husks of last year’s growth.

This first thing we heard once the motor stopped, was birdsong from the island.  Red Wing Blackbirds, Bitterns, Goldfinches and birds we couldn’t identify or see.  I imagined the sound waves moving through the air towards me and making my ear drum vibrate slightly.  We paddled over to the next island, Green by name and by colour.  Ahead of us in a tiny bay, we saw the expanding ripples created by a fish near the surface.  Every now and then we would see a splash and then more ripples.  These tiny waves gently bumped into the canoe and told their story of something moving under the water.  Since the sun was shining and at the right angle, we soon saw large Garpikes swimming beside our canoe.  Now we knew what the ripples were telling us. .

Towards the shore, came the booming heartbeat sound of bullfrogs.  The sound waves created by their throats traveled toward us and meeting our ear drums and  the tiny bones in our inner ears, they were translated by our brains into pictures of large frogs.  Our memories of seeing Bullfrogs croak in the past, informed what we heard that day.

The sunshine warmed me so I took off my jacket and then my sweater leaving just a T-shirt.  The waves and particles of light met my skin and warmed it. It had snowed the previous week, so the sensation felt strange and somehow new.   

A loud slapping sound reached us and we looked over the lake to see four Trumpeter Swans slapping their wings and feet on the water as they took off into the sky.  We could still hear the sound of their wings colliding with the air, making a thrumping kind of sound with each powerful downstrokes that lifted the swans higher. They trumpeted as they flew which made it easy to tell that they were not Mute Swans who make a low hissing sound.  The sunlight bounced off their white feathers making them flash brightly against the clear blue sky.  The light that bounced off of them and into my eye, onto my retina and into my brain also lifted my heart.  If I had an ECG machine to measure the waves coming from my heart, I would be able to see that their shape would change slightly as I viewed the swans.  I tried to imagine those invisible heart waves emanating from me.

Ahead of us on a small rock that rose above the water’s surface, basked a large grey Map Turtle.  They are so named because the markings on their shells look like a map.  Startled by our presence, it slid into the water, leaving only ripples to mark its entry spot.  Since the wind and the water were still, every little ripple told a story.  Ahead of us the water churned and splashed.  Perhaps there were Carp ahead of us as well or maybe a vigorous Garpike.  We did not get a clear view, so that will remain a mystery.  But we do know that it was large, vigorous and mostly likely a fish.

Science tells us that the electromagnetic energy field from our hearts, our brains and our muscles extends outside of our bodies.  I wonder how far they go.  Can the land perceive the ripples of the waves that we send out just as I perceive the ripples on the water and in the air?  If I were to yell, sending sound waves out, then the frogs would become silent, the turtles would dive for cover and the beavers would slap their tails in warning.  What about the quality of my heart’s rhythm?  Can they feel that?  What about the waves that come from my brain and from my muscles?

Studies have shown that humans can affect how machines run just by thinking.  They have also shown that plants grow better when spoken to kindly and domestic animals that are given attention also do better.  The quality of our presence seems to make a big difference according to science.  And so, I ask myself, does my appreciation for the other-than-human life around me make a difference?  How does my energy field affect the life around me?

In the midst of this wondering, a large Caspian Tern, spying a fish, dove head first straight into the lake near by.  Ripples had barely begun to spread out when it reappeared, fish in its beak, strong wings pumping to become airborne again.  It rose quickly and disappeared.

We turned to go home and soon spied floating garbage caught in the old dry cat tails from last year.  Using paddles and oars, we fished out water bottles, plastic jugs, big pieces of Styrofoam and bits of unidentifiable plastic.  It is one of our acts of reciprocity with nature and perhaps love in action.  It is what we do whenever we are out in the boat and see garbage on the water.  Usually, the waves created by the wind on the water, push the garbage into the same location, kind of like a mother putting the stuff left lying about into one pile.  Those waves are communicating with us, giving us the opportunity to do our job as humans.  It is easy to imagine that the love we show in cleaning up, is felt my nature, if the absence of harm can be felt.

Waves are the shape of moving energy, bringing information that we perceive through our many sensory organs.  Waves are the shape of moving energy, sending information from ourselves out to all the others.  As I picture all these waves moving about, a new image of intelligence is created in my mind.  And in this image, it would be impossible to be there without being a part of it all.  How did we ever imagine that we were outside of all of this?  It now seems to be an unbelievable story.  For me, the waves tell the real story.