PeaceBang
The manic mind of the minister -- Auntie Mame Meets Cotton Mather. Blogging about Unitarian Universalism, UU Christian spiritual practice, occasional cultural and political ravings, and the inner life of ministry. PeaceBang is the alter ego of a small town pastor serving an historic New England Unitarian Universalist congregation.
The Tale Of The Whale: Mary Oliver’s “Humpbacks”
July 12, 2007 on 11:10 am | In Inspirations, Reminiscence |I am nuts about whales. I think whales are the coolest people on Earth. I am the idiot on the whale watch who starts crying whenever a whale shows up and yells, “I LOVE YOU!” at it.
My mom and I had a ridiculous comedy routine going for a year or two with about a 9″ rubber whale I got at the Chicago Aquarium. After I moved out of the house I shared with my boyfriend in Minnesota and moved in with Mom and her hubby in Rochester, I brought with me the whale that David and I called “The Whay-ale” in long, breathy voices. It’s probably no use trying to explain how hilarious it was the time David and I had a fight and I stormed off to my study and after awhile felt that someone was watching me, and looked up to see The Whay-ale regarding me from the doorway, hanging there in space all by itself, and we laughed and laughed and laughed and the fight melted away. I was so fond of that whale.
So anyway, when that relationship ended and I moved to Mom’s, I put the whale in the bathtub. One morning she went in there to shower and, since she wasn’t wearing her glasses, thought it was maybe a big gray rat in there with her and screamed. I ran to the stairs and heard her laughing like crazy, having apparently realized that it was not a rat but a dumb toy whale.
When I came home late a few nights later and went to use the bathroom, the whale was floating on a foil raft in the toilet. I laughed like hell. When my mother sat down to eat dinner at my sister’s wedding later that summer, the whale rolled out of her napkin and onto her lap. She laughed like hell. When I went on the umpteenth day to the end of the driveway to see if my acceptance letter from Harvard Divinity School had arrived, I found an empty mailbox with nothing in it but the whale looking all jaunty wearing a Christmas ribbon. I laughed like hell. When Mom snuck in to watch part of a dress rehearsal of “Lips Together, Teeth Apart,” I used the whale in lieu of a cordless telephone in the second act. I had alerted my fellow actors about it, and we calmly passed the whale around as the scene required. I heard Mom trying to stifle her laughter from the front row.
We did that for years until the beloved whale got lost in someone’s stolen luggage — I think mine.
I do love whales.
One summer I did a service with the UU Church of Reading, MA that was called “The Moon By Whalelight,” which combined readings from Diane Ackerman’s book of the same name, wonderful improvisational music by a jazz musician, and poetry about whales. The congregation and I went on a whale watch immediately after the service and it was as special a time as I can remember having in the UU community.
That’s just a little background information on why I’m so excited about my date
with my oldest and best childhood buddyroo and her two daughters this coming Sunday.
***
There is, all around us,
this country
of original fire.
You know what I mean.
The sky, after all, stops at nothing so something
has to be holding
our bodies
in its rich and timeless stables or else
we would fly away.
Off Stellwagan
off the Cape,
the humbacks rise. Carrying their tonnage
of barnacles and joy
they leap through the water, they nuzzle back under it
like children
at play.
They sing, too.
And not for any reason
you can’t imagine.
Three of them
rise to the surface near the bow of the boat,
then dive
deeply, their huge scarred flukes
tipped to the air.
We wait, not knowing
just where it will happen; suddenly
they smash thorugh the surface, someone begins
shouting for joy and you realize
it is yourself as they surge
upward and you see for the first time
how huge they are, as they breach,
and dive, and breach again
through the shining blue flowers
of the split water and you see them
for some unbelievable
part of a moment against the sky —
like nothing you’ve ever imagined —
like the myth of the fifth morning galloping
out of darkness, pouring
heavenward, spinning; then
they crash back under those black silks
and we all fall back
together into that wet fire, you
know what I mean.
I know a captain who has seen them
playing with seaweed, swimming
through the green islands, tossing
the slippery branches into the air.
I know a whale that will come to the boat whenever
she can, and nudge it gently along the bow
with her long flipper.
I know several lives worth living.
Listen, whatever it is you try
to do with your life, nothing will ever dazzle you
like the dreams of your body,
its spirit
longing to fly while the dead-weight bones
toss their dark mane and hurry
back into the fields of glittering fire
where everything,
even the great whale,
throbs with song.
-Mary Oliver, Humpbacks
10 Comments »
RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI
Leave a comment
Powered by WordPress with Pool theme design by Borja Fernandez.
Entries and comments feeds.
Valid XHTML and CSS. ^Top^
In this context this is a stupid question, but here goes: Have you read Moby Dick?
I am just finishing my first reading of it, and am blown away by the funny and the profundity and the theology.
Also, did you know that you’re posting particularly brilliantly today?
Comment by Mary Ann — July 12, 2007 #
Too bad you weren’t with us when DJ and I went on a whale watch down the St Lawrence. (It was during our last trip to Quebec.) You would’ve screamed “I love you!!” many times!
Comment by Peregrinato — July 12, 2007 #
So I have to ask—-
Did you just love Sena Jeter Naslund’s book Ahab’s Wife, or what? Even though it breaks my heart that they were in the business of whaling, what a book.
Talk about whaling and UUism combined!
E
Comment by elizabeth — July 12, 2007 #
Ive seen more whales in the Pacific than I managed on the Atlantic coast. From the Oregon Coast, camping, many years ago, the first thrilling glimpse of a large migrating group. More recently, from Victoria, Vancouver Island, on the inflatable boats, went out and about with Orcas.
Loved your funny stories about the gray whale!
Comment by Diane Miller — July 12, 2007 #
@Mary Ann - I read Moby six years ago and was overwhelmed by its brilliance. I was an English major in college and was supposed to read it then, but I’m glad I waited. I haven’t read “Ahab’s Wife” yet because I’m so afraid I will find it cheezy. But I think I’ll try again this summer.
Thanks for the lovely comments! Whales make *everybody* happy.
@James: oh, oh, I wish I was there!
Comment by PeaceBang — July 12, 2007 #
Peace,
Oh, the whale thing goes so many places - yes Moby Dick. You must have been to the Whaling Musuem in New Beford and the Seaman’s Bethel?! And the trippy save the whales song from the Partridge Family (remember that?). Personal fave is the the whale watch boats named the Portuguese Princess because that’s what we call my Portuguese mom. And a great save the whales song from Greenwich Meantime called Last of the Great Whales:
My soul has been torn from me and I am bleeding
My heart it has been rent and I am crying
All the beauty around me fades and I am screaming
I am the last of the great whales and I am dying
Last night I heard the cry of my last companion
The roar of the harpoon gun and then I was alone
I thought of the days gone by when we were thousands
But I know that I soon must die the last leviathan
This morning the sun did rise Crimson in the north sky
The ice was the colour of blood and the winds they did sigh
I rose for to take a breath it was my last one
From a gun came the roar of death and now I am done
Oh now that we are all gone there’s no more hunting
The big fellow is no more it’s no use lamenting
What race will be next in line? All for the slaughter
The elephant or the seal or your sons and daughters …
http://celtic-lyrics.com/forum/index.php?autocom=tclc&code=lyrics&id=293
Tony Lorenzen
Comment by tony lorenzen — July 13, 2007 #
Oh, Peacebang. Thank you so much. This poem is so beautiful. You always remind me to pause and find God in this wonderful creation.
Comment by kate setzer kamphausen — July 13, 2007 #
Dear PeaceBang,
I love your blogs! Usually I just read and that’s it, but when it comes to whales and spirituality, I have something to say on the matter.
I am a stay-at-home mom, and my dear hubby will often email science articles to me from his work so that I can have something intellectual to ponder during my long days with a little one. One such article was quite humorous - some marine biologists had accidentally discovered that whales flatulate. They were out on the high seas studying the giant mammals when a whale surfaced and let one go. The biologists managed to photograph the incident, but had to “flee the bow” in a hurry when they caught a whiff of the whale’s handiwork. Here is a link to the article, if you don’t believe me: http://www.abc.net.au/science/news/stories/s933906.htm
What does this have to do with spirituality? I think most UU’s are familiar with the Spirit of Life song. I ask you to consider the lyrics: A few lines into it, one sings, “Blow in the wind, rise in the sea…” and for the life of me, I can no longer treat the song with any seriousness whatsoever. This is fine with me, however, as I relish in the absurd and believe that humor is itself a powerful spirit of life.
I hope I haven’t spoiled the experience of the holy for anyone - just keep in mind that the holy is damned funny sometimes.
Blessings,
Rachel
Comment by Rachel — July 13, 2007 #
What a beautiful post! I loved the stories about the gray whale and everything else too. The poem posted by Tony L. is a heartbreaker. I’ve posted a musical setting here.
Comment by Ed (Simple Village Organist) — July 13, 2007 #
Come to think of it: my first contact with UU was also a brush with whales. I was attending the wedding of a fellow student of my wife’s in the Boston area in a UU sanctuary, and the bride had picked some new-agey whale sounds as music. In her defense: she was an oceanographer from Woods Hole.
My next encounter with whales embroiled me in an severe accident on a whale watch boat off Gloucester…
Comment by Martin Voelker — July 26, 2008 #