This is how my afternoon went yesterday. A much-needed beach walk for my dog and I in the late day sun. It took a long time for the fog to dissolve today, so our walk was put on hold while we played chicken with the light. (If I wait too late, the sun will slip behind the hills, leaving me in the shadows.)
But today, today was just glorious! Still. Mild. Beach empty except for gulls and a pair of cormorants drying their wings on the old pilings. (When I say empty, I’m really talking of dogs and other people…of course every beach is teeming with wildlife seen and unseen…crabs, seaweeds and limpets to name just a few here.)
After a very productive stint of rock collecting—who ever has enough rocks??—we settled down on a big log to soak in the spectacular view of Mt. Baker already tinted pink by the sinking sun.
I love watching cormorants, they feel like guardian spirits to me.
I once lived high above the sea on the Oregon coast where I could keep watch on a large rock at the tideline. A single cormorant owned that rock, spent most of his days clutching it, and I came to think of him as my personal guard bird. We shared many sunsets and secrets that shiny black bird and I.
Notable fishers, cormorants will wait on a high perch like the one above for an hour or more, waiting for the perfect opportunity to dive into clear water and scoop up a snack. They stay focused on the water, patiently passing time until the moment is ideal to move. By remaining still, they create no moving shadow in the water to startle passing fish—until the last second.
This kind of extreme focus, this inner discipline, this divine quiet, is a goal for many meditators. Would that I could meditate as well as these cormorants who are my neighbors. If they spoke English—or I spoke cormorant—this might be their mantra:
I wait, my body still, fish swim by;
I wait, my body still, fish swim by;
I wait, my body still, fish swim by;
I dive.
So take a lesson from wise cormorant: find a quiet sunny spot, get comfy, get focused and ignore the hovering seagulls.
Here’s a real treat: listen to the cormorant from this episode of Bird Notes, created by Seattle Audubon.
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Have you learned any meditation tips from the animals in your life? Please share them below.
Take an evolution lesson from another seabird here.
March 31st, 2009 at 9:23 pm
My greyhound whispered in my ear, “You and I could sit around and talk to God together.”
I’m still trying to figure out how to do that, until then, I take a lesson from my horses, whose silent, grounded, stillness suggests, “If you quiet your mind, your negative blocks can melt right out of you, into the earth, to be transformed into light.”
Thank you for highlighting that every animal has many lessons to impart!
April 1st, 2009 at 8:42 am
Dr. Jenn…thanks for sharing that insight from your horses. I have a friend who does therapy with horses, and I’ve read a bit about the work–it is truly amazing what horses have to teach us and what good healers they are. Considering how much we have asked of horses over the centuries, it amazes me that they are still so generous toward us. Lucky you for having such powerful allies and guides in your life. ~Oriana