I have written previously of the thrill of seeing an endangered species in the wild. There is something incredibly reassuring to actually watch nature still in action in this world; it’s a sign of hope. (Hope that Rhino doesn’t smell me and charge, hope that leopard doesn’t go for my jugular) Hope that nature is still within a constant act of adjustment and that things are still somewhat in balance.
There is a kind of opposite view going on here. The leopard, the rhino, the orangutan doesn’t actually know that their species is endangered. They aren’t like your average cancer patient who has possibly been given and end by date by their doctor as in “You have six months to live.” And so unknowing, they do their own bit to continue their species, hunting, eating, mating, and raising their young. They don’t sit at the doorway of their cave or reserve and worry about their existence, about their numbers decreasing. They stick to the task at hand, simply being.
And because they get on with the act of being in a changing world, I have been blessed at times to come face to face with them. Or face to backside as I did last night, beneath a sunset tinted full moon. The iconic image of a sea turtle emerging from the primordial ocean, struggling up the beach and laboring to lay her eggs would be an easy top ten if you wanted to pick acts of hope and courage in the face of adversity. Facts and figures don’t enter her head as she negotiates her way through a gap in the reef and labors her way slowly up the beach.
During her season, the turtle will mate numerous times. After forty years of trawling through the ocean she will enter maturity and begin to mate. Over a period of months, she will mate selectively and lay more thousands of clutches of eggs during this season. The volunteer training group also liked clutches. Gathering in the car park, we were told to keep in a group huddle and to Stop Drop and Rock should we spot a turtle on the beach. Keeping to the marine theme, we waddled penguin like in a tidy little clutch down the moonlit path to the beach where we gathered in a rock like formation.
Suddenly the lights of a backpacker van flood the beach. Lights are considered a spook factor in Turtle etiquette; torches and flashes are not permitted. Two trainee guides are dispatched to give the tourists an information brochure and invite them to join our group.Another trainee is assigned to assess the turtle situation. With a full moon and a high tide, bang smack in the peak of the nesting season, the conditions are perfect. Camo-Crawling to the first turtle, the guide crawls back to our human rock formation to reports that one turtle is “chambering” (digging the incubation tunnel where her eggs will incubate), but that her position is not favorable for a viewing. The last thing we want to do is to disturb the turtle at her labors. Spooked, she could abandon her nest and her hastily covered eggs eaten by predators. As the guide makes her report, another turtle emerges from the sea only meters away from us. Since we have already stopped and dropped, we go into talking rock mode. Apparently, the turtle is unaware of the higher pitch of a woman’s voice more likely to be spooked by a baritone. We are urged to stay still and not make any sudden movements. Further south down the beach another turtle emerges and hurtles up the beach without hesitation. Plumes of sand flicking in the air indicate that she has begun to “pit’ or to dig her pit. It’s not uncommon for turtles to make a couple of trips to the land before deciding finally to lay her eggs. The sand has to be the perfect temperature and consistency.
The turtle closest to us is moving painfully slowly past us and up the beach where she begins to dig with her front flippers. Once she has made the pit, she will dig a channel for her eggs with the smaller back fins. She sets to work with surprising speed.
With their shells glinting in the moonlight, the nesting turtles tilt into trance as they deliver their eggs to the earth. This is the time of least possible disturbance to the turtle and we are allowed to Camo-Crawl in small groups to the edge of the pit. The turtle pushes clutches of eggs in bursts, rear flippers protecting them from view. Her head is turned towards the vegetation; her eyes seem to weep in the moonlight. I think of a common misconception that the tears are ‘intelligent’, that the turtle somehow realizes the futility of her Herculean labor. Perhaps one in a thousand of the eggs now lying beneath mounds of sand will survive to mature, mate and to return here in forty years, continuing the cycle of creation.
But whether she knows it or not, the turtle acts according to her dharma of being a turtle, her karma to return to the very beach she came to life on. She doesn’t rail against the odds; she is part of the odds. She is perfectly surrendered to her karma.
In sixty days the eggs will hatch and her progeny will hurtle towards the sea, unknowing and careless of their odds of survival. They will do what is expected of us all in life, which is to participate in the field of action no matter what the odds of survival or success. This is the greatest teaching of the Bhagavad-Gita Gita; that one must act without attachment to the outcome. This presupposes a worldview that is eternal, one with no real end point. Your actions of today will have a reaction somewhere in the mists of time but this should actually be of no concern to the individual in the present moment. The thing is To Act! That’s karma baby.
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