It has been almost five full years since I first began this blog. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, it served as a catharsis for me as I recorded my experiences with FEMA, teaching school to evacuee children in Lafayette, dealing with being sick and the stress of being a refugee and interacting with amazing and wonderful individuals around the state of Louisiana who helped us in Eunice, Kaplan, Youngsville and elsewhere. Through it all, I learned the most valuable lesson. In the midst of crisis, individuals- not governments, not businesses- but everyday folks are the ones who rise to the occasion. While my experience with Katrina lessened my faith in large over-arching institutions, it heightened my faith in individual compassion and the ability of people, everyday folks right here in America, to open their hearts to others in need on a moments notice.
Here we are in 2010 and again the region that for half a decade was my home, Southeastern Louisiana, is the epicenter of what is now the third largest oil spill ever. The environmental runoff from Katrina that spilled into the Gulf of Mexico in the fall and winter of 2005 has caused the already expanding “Dead Zone” in the Gulf to widen over the years. It goes without saying that this new tragedy has eclipsed the damage caused by past oil spills and Katrina, not to mention has caused the destruction of many people’s livelihoods and the lives of thousands of plants and animals. Will the ever-expanding Dead Zone in the Gulf be retitled, the Dead Gulf? Only time will tell.
As my heart breaks for my one-time home, at the same time, I continue to be in awe at the surprises life continues to have in store. Ever since the hurricane pushed me out of New Orleans with her maddening winds and floods, I have been on a personal journey of discovery with the element of water. From Katrina to the Big Island of Hawaii ( the east side where it rains sometimes weeks at a time) to working with the acequia system in New Mexico to learning about the healing effects of ionized water on the human body, my lessons have been consistant, at times overwhelming, and always deeply life changing.
And this summer, the story continues. As thousands of gallons of oil continue to be pumped into the prescious ecosystem of the Gulf of Mexico, I find myself near the epicenter of the event. I write this entry- the first in almost five years- from the waters near the Bahamas. Tomorrow, I leave on a two-month long trek on a hand-crafted Chinese junk ship (www.heraclitus.org) to travel across the North Atlantic sea towards the Azores and Europe. I do it because the water calls me, like it has done for the last four and a half years. I am doing it because the sea is our mother and we are more like her than we are dry land- the human body is seventy percent water on average, and that is not reverse osmosis or distilled. Its saline water, its sea water. The ocean, then, is ourselves. How we care for the oceans, how we relate to them, is how we care for and relate to ourselves.
With a juxtapositioning heart filled with despair over the current tragedy and excitement for my coming voyage, I step on to the ship and take to the wind. I do it to learn more about myself and, admittedly, to see the sea as she is now before she changes too much. I hope and pray that she doesnt, that- miracle of miracles- that human spirit that was so kind to fellow humans during Hurricane Katrina can open up in compassion to our kin in the sea. But if not, then perhaps we will just have a writer's words to in which to rely in order to remember.
Roughly once a week, I will be sending posts to this blog, with lat and long, as well as thoughts, observations, sights seen and ah-ha moments. Thanks to my bro, Zack, for posting them.
How will myself and my 11 other crew mates- a ragtag but lovable and very dedicated bunch from all over the world- be changed by being away from dry land and in close quarters with each other for six weeks? Read on as the weeks pass to find out. I look forward to reading your comments via email or this blog when the ship lands in the Azores, then Tangiers and Spain, by mid-August 2010.
Thanks for reading!
Many blessings and healing waters,
Lyn-Li Torres Pugh (aka Nicole Pugh, aka Nikki :))
Here we are in 2010 and again the region that for half a decade was my home, Southeastern Louisiana, is the epicenter of what is now the third largest oil spill ever. The environmental runoff from Katrina that spilled into the Gulf of Mexico in the fall and winter of 2005 has caused the already expanding “Dead Zone” in the Gulf to widen over the years. It goes without saying that this new tragedy has eclipsed the damage caused by past oil spills and Katrina, not to mention has caused the destruction of many people’s livelihoods and the lives of thousands of plants and animals. Will the ever-expanding Dead Zone in the Gulf be retitled, the Dead Gulf? Only time will tell.
As my heart breaks for my one-time home, at the same time, I continue to be in awe at the surprises life continues to have in store. Ever since the hurricane pushed me out of New Orleans with her maddening winds and floods, I have been on a personal journey of discovery with the element of water. From Katrina to the Big Island of Hawaii ( the east side where it rains sometimes weeks at a time) to working with the acequia system in New Mexico to learning about the healing effects of ionized water on the human body, my lessons have been consistant, at times overwhelming, and always deeply life changing.
And this summer, the story continues. As thousands of gallons of oil continue to be pumped into the prescious ecosystem of the Gulf of Mexico, I find myself near the epicenter of the event. I write this entry- the first in almost five years- from the waters near the Bahamas. Tomorrow, I leave on a two-month long trek on a hand-crafted Chinese junk ship (www.heraclitus.org) to travel across the North Atlantic sea towards the Azores and Europe. I do it because the water calls me, like it has done for the last four and a half years. I am doing it because the sea is our mother and we are more like her than we are dry land- the human body is seventy percent water on average, and that is not reverse osmosis or distilled. Its saline water, its sea water. The ocean, then, is ourselves. How we care for the oceans, how we relate to them, is how we care for and relate to ourselves.
With a juxtapositioning heart filled with despair over the current tragedy and excitement for my coming voyage, I step on to the ship and take to the wind. I do it to learn more about myself and, admittedly, to see the sea as she is now before she changes too much. I hope and pray that she doesnt, that- miracle of miracles- that human spirit that was so kind to fellow humans during Hurricane Katrina can open up in compassion to our kin in the sea. But if not, then perhaps we will just have a writer's words to in which to rely in order to remember.
Roughly once a week, I will be sending posts to this blog, with lat and long, as well as thoughts, observations, sights seen and ah-ha moments. Thanks to my bro, Zack, for posting them.
How will myself and my 11 other crew mates- a ragtag but lovable and very dedicated bunch from all over the world- be changed by being away from dry land and in close quarters with each other for six weeks? Read on as the weeks pass to find out. I look forward to reading your comments via email or this blog when the ship lands in the Azores, then Tangiers and Spain, by mid-August 2010.
Thanks for reading!
Many blessings and healing waters,
Lyn-Li Torres Pugh (aka Nicole Pugh, aka Nikki :))
posted by Nikki Lyn Pugh | 10:31 PM
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