Saturday, December 16, 2006

ALL THINGS CHANGE AND WE CHANGE WITH THEM by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"


ALL THINGS CHANGE AND WE CHANGE WITH THEM


I first lifeguarded at age 17 on Joline Avenue Beach, in the Summer of 1954.

Years later, in the 1960s, I became Long Branch's Chief Lifeguard and along with Dick Martin, Takanasee Beach Club Guard; Phil Huhn, Long Branch Beach Captain; Greg Farry, Beach Director, Bradley Beach, founded the Jersey Shore Lifesaving Association.

During my tenure, I witnessed a dramatic change in the integrity of our Ocean.

I remember, in the mid-1950s, there was an exquisitely-featured, darling girl of purest innocence, a LBHS classmate of mine, perhaps age 16 or 17, at the bloom of perfection in her beauty who, alone at night, would run down a long flight of wooden stairs to the unfootprinted sand below the bluffs, cast off her nightgown to stand naked upon the strand of the beach, where wave after wave would kiss the shore, then retreat back to an ocean sparkling with the diamonds of reflected stars.

How she must have delighted in the feel of the tiny sand crabs the waves left behind; they would scramble about her feet and tickle her toes, causing her to laugh that happy child's laugh that is the most beautiful of all music to God's ears; she would then joyously plunge, carefree, into the welcoming surf that was once our First Home.

Yesterday's dream has become today's nightmare. Now, when they report safe swimming conditions at the Jersey Shore, it's always announced in terms of "acceptable fecal content level." In other words, how much shit are you willing to swim in?

Who, in their right mind would eat any seafood caught or harvested in these waters, filled with raw sewage, rotting garbage, and deadly toxins from every kind of chemical company imaginable. We'll soon be gasping for air in direct proportion to the disappearance of Plankton, our primary source of oxygen, from our seas.

I have also personally witnessed in my lifetime the Shrewsbury River, my childhood playground, a river of beautiful crystal clear water, teeming with aquatic life of such vibrancy and health, transmogrify into a cesspool of putrefaction, that can no longer freeze over in winter.

The Norman Rockwellian joys of ice boating and ice skating at Branchport to Pleasure Bay, which once thrilled us as we played upon our real-life canvas, have been supplanted by filth, disease, sludge, grime, and muck.

The time has come to Pay the Piper for dishonoring our Great Mother. We never listened to the protests of the dolphins, whales, and other sentient mammals that inhabit our seas when they sacrificed themselves upon our shores in an effort to bring attention to what was being done to them.

Fools, believing they were assisting fellow mammals, drove those poor, sick and dying creatures back into the very poison from which they fled.

The world we once knew has changed and is currently undergoing a kind of mitosis, politically, economically, sociologically and most importantly, ecologically.
There is a feeling of helplessness, that there is nothing anyone can do about it.
In this realm of Quantum Non-Separability in which we inhabit and are inextricably bound up with one another, we believe that we can control events and circumstances before they go too far, when, in fact, there are anonymous Established Forces which have set us upon a "Deva Yama," i.e., a Path of No Return, beyond the Tipping Point, as it were.

We now find ourselves, standing on the bluffs above the "Plains of Kurukshetra," overlooking the place where the last Fight to the Death will take place. Warriors throughout the world are dividing into two camps in preparation for this Final Battle.

We have only two choices before us now: 1. To accept an ignominious, cowardly, Darfurian type death; the T.S. Eliotonian prediction that we will yield to the forces of extinction with a "whimper;" or 2. We can pick up the Sword and fight the noble and honorable fight of Warriors, where God's Will is glorified by Arjunian men of valor; those Dylan Thomasian noble knights who would rather "Rage against the Dying of the Light" than "go gentle into that good night."

4 comments:

Steve Savage "King of the Beasts" said...

"Stinky Whale" Mystery Stymies Scientists, Aboriginal Hunters.
A rancid stench in the meat of some gray whales has made them inedible to Russian aboriginal hunters, according to a new report. Chemical contamination or disease may be causing the increasing phenomenon of so-called stinky whales, experts say.
A similar stink is also being noticed in the meat of ringed and bearded seals, walruses, and cod, the report by the International Whaling Commission (IWC) adds.
Aboriginal whalers in Russia's northeastern province of Chukotka first began sensing there was something wrong with the whales in the 1990s. Since then, many of the mammals they tow ashore from a hunt end up having a foul medicinal odor. People who eat the meat have reported temporary problems such as numbness in the mouth, skin rashes, and stomach aches. Such whales are of no other use to locals. "Even dogs will not eat the meat."

wiganfootie said...

How many people in the world don't know anything about this and have not a clue whats happening,Wiganfootie x

merriemarie said...

We never listened to the protests of the dolphins, whales, and other sentient mammals that inhabit our seas, when they sacrificed themselves upon our shores in an effort to bring attention to what was being done to them. Fools, believing they were assisting fellow mammals, drove those poor, sick and dying creatures back into the very poison from which they fled.

No wonder bottle-nose dolphins and
other type mammals have mysteriously been beaching themselves for several decades. It
is clearly a sad, tragic cry for relief from the nightmare they're
forced to endure.

Thanks for the wonderful post Steve
Pam

Celestial Dancer said...

I had no idea of the "stinky whale" syndrome. Do you recall the source link? It would be good to share this information.

I can relate to that 16 or 17 year old girl you speak of. There is only one friend I know of who still does things like that and admittedly lives in a place that is more pristine than the majority of us and has the solitude of space to play in such a manner, with the elements, with the myriad of sentient life she cherishes.

I finally came across a book which speaks openly about the shamanic ways of assisting the "planet to heal itself". If at all you are interested it is called, "Soul on Fire A Transformational Journey From Priest to Shaman" by Peter Calhoun. I am thoroughly enjoying it and intend to experiment with the concepts he shares through his book in my own way, in my own part of this planet.