Moving Forward.

The Amazon. My final trip as a GFP student. I look at this trip as the bookend to my first novel, or maybe it’s my second. While previous trips left me questioning everything, there was a confidence that came with this trip, an assurance that I have spent the last two and a half years on the right work and it’s time to finally put things into action. The feeling is similar to that of a caterpillar about to get their wings: I’m hesitant, but I’ve put in the appropriate amount of time and energy in order to finally fly. Sure, there were still moments on this trip where I felt I wanted more for my life then what I had, but it was more an excitement at the possibilities, not an overwhelmed confused sort of longing.

I fell in love with every piece of the Amazon: the insects, the birds, the early morning hikes, the late night hikes, the quiet, the bonding, even the cold showers. I had moments where I felt I could easily love the field of Ornithology. But I’d felt this before. Australia left me believing I would move into marine biology and before that, Belize left me certain I would focus on botany. Over time, I think I’ve realized that even though I love bird watching, I’d love to study nudibranchs, and I’d love to research new plant life, I can be a part of all of that through photography. It’s been right in front of my face the whole time and I’ve rejected it as being a viable option. I kept pushing towards more schooling or switching fields or staying put, but what I really should be doing is pushing harder to make conservation photography my career, my life. That’s my golden ticket. That’s the way I get to do it all. It’s the vehicle that allows me to work with researchers, dive with scientists, and forage with locals. It’s all possible when photography is my conduit.

And with photography I can help protect something I love so much, the natural world. Every trip solidifies more deeply that spending quality time in nature truly is what forces us to so strongly try to protect it. Walking around searching for birds at 5am in the fog of the rainforest, you can’t help but want to protect all that is around you, for its value is so deep, so connected to the very essence of life, to something deep inside. The feeling of comfort and joy, despite mosquitos attacking every inch of your body, leaves you at peace. If we can get every individual to experience this on a regular basis, we will succeed. If everyone can understand that feeling only happens by protecting nature, we will win. If I can inspire that somehow, someway through my art, then I’ll be satisfied.

And we have a head start, because humans naturally desire to be around other living things (Wilson, 1984). It’s just to what extent this involves nature and balanced against what else that will be key to creating environmentally responsible behaviors. I think about the dichotomy of people in the Amazon -- you have Kenny and Ruth who care so deeply for this place they call home, and then right down the river you have people who are equally as inundated by nature, and yet they are destroying their home through the practice of gold mining. The way these two kinds of people identify with nature seems to be the difference, and it’s this identity that helps define the person-nature relationship (Nisbet, Zelenski, & Murphy, n.d.). On the one hand, it’s the jungle that provides them with life and sustenance, but on the other, it’s also a source of money and comfort, but at what cost? We must create an identity more like the former and not the latter.

But what I’ve realized along the way, through all of these places, all of these people, is that none of us are all that different. Thousands of miles away or just a couple hundred, we all have the same basic needs. It’s how we channel this, how we meet these needs, that makes all the difference.

The gold miner is not all that different. He too wants sustenance, comfort, and peace, he just goes about it in a way that seems easiest to him.
At his core, I’m sure he feels the same things anyone else feels, a deep need for understanding and empathy. And so I can give it to him, but I will ask him to be open, to consider alternatives when faced with them, to take help when offered, to channel the same feelings we all experience when surrounded by the beauty of nature. If he can, then hope is not lost. For as Jonathan Edwards once said, “Surely there is something in the unruffled calm of nature that overawes our little anxieties and doubts: just the sight of the deep-blue sky, and the clustering of stars above, seem to impart a quiet of mind.”

If I can capture this sentiment in my images, if I can impart this feeling on others, like the gold miner, then I have to be able to succeed. Once you have felt that calm, you forge that bond with nature, you begin to truly understand and appreciate its value. Enough so that success nor money nor fame can sway you from your post, you will protect and defend the very thing that brings you existence, physically and spiritually.

                            

 "Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better." --Albert Einstein

Wilson, E.0. (1984) Biophilia. Cambridge (MA): Harvard University Press, 1, 79.

Nisbet, E. K., Zelenski, J. M., & Murphy, S. A. (n.d.). The Nature Relatedness Scale Linking Individuals’ Connection With Nature to Environmental Concern and Behavior. ENVIRONMENT AND BEHAVIOR, 41(5), 715–740. https://doi-org.proxy.lib.miamioh.edu/10.1177/0013916508318748

I know where I belong...

...and it's at the bottom of the ocean. For the longest time, I've always felt some kind of deep solitude and contentment when submerged under the blue weight of water. In a pool, in a lake, or in the great big ocean, it's where I find my peace. After learning to scuba and exploring only a tiny bit of the Great Barrier Reef, this keen sense of place became undeniable. I realize now that this call to the water is something I can no longer pass off as just a momentary reprieve from life, it is life, I just needed to find greater meaning and understanding in it.

Diving the reef made me acutely aware of every purifying breathe I took, perhaps it was the forced air I was breathing from a regulator, but my heart and my soul became so in tune and connected to everything that surrounded and enveloped me. One dive on the Great Barrier reef, and I knew where I belonged, I realized that I could spend the rest of my life diving and discovering the least lonely but most solitary place on the planet, the bottom of the ocean.

And what intrigued me most was not the mega fauna -- not the manta ray or the turtle or the shark I did not see, nor was it the whales or the butterfly fish or the lobster I did see. What inspired me most was the stuff you don't notice in pictures or shoot videos of or see plastered on your Instagram feed, the stuff few care to take a look at -- it was the Chlorodesmis, the sea cucumber, the nudibranchs, and the giant clam. While I've always loved the things others may find less appealing or interesting, it surprised me how innately I gravitated to every type of algae, every odd and seemingly inconsequential piece of the reef that despite looking unassuming, played an integral role in the health and beauty of the ecosystem. Even though I understood the balance and the diversity on paper, seeing it through the plexi of my mask while 18 meters below the crystal blue surface, made me fully comprehend the expanse of this world and all we have yet to discover and how imperative it is to continue learning and sharing.

That is what this program is about and why it has meant so much to me.  Each trip I learn a little more, I long for a little more, and I do and see just a little more. It has been a place to extend myself past what I know or think I know about the Earth about science about myself. I want to not only be a participant in discovery, but I want to be an advocate for the information I've learned not only for the sack of conservation but for the pure pursuit of understanding and appreciation.

But it wasn't only at the bottom of the ocean that I continued my educational journey and enlightenment. I learned small things and big things and common sense things all above sea level as well. At every point I learned a little more. Heck, I didn't even know that the stars were different on the other side of the world. Self proclaimed dumbest smart person you'll ever meet!

It wasn't all science and facts I learned either, though it was alot of those. What I take away most from these trips is the little things. It's the smile of a frog that lightens your heart, or the beauty of a spider that makes it a little less threatening, its a moment by a freezing cold pool with newly formed friends, or laughing in the light of the stars over anything and everything. Every piece of these trips adds up to not just simple memories and experiences, but life altering, life affirming, and life inspiring snapshots of the life you want and can have. These Earth Expeditions continue to push me closer and closer to making the leap to the life I was meant to live, not the one I've fallen into. For me it's not simply about learning, it's finding revelations in everything you do, the mundane and the extraordinary, the obvious and the hidden. It's more than just traveling the world, it's voraciously consuming every piece of it.

Belize, You Have My Heart!

Wanderlust. They define it plainly as a strong desire to travel. For me, it's something much more magical. I always knew I wanted to travel, but I just didn't realize how meaningful it would actually be.

Before I joined Project Dragonfly, I had never even heard of Belize, and after this summer, it's a word that leaves my mouth at least once a day.
It wasn't just the beauty I found in the country, be it the people, the land, or the animals, it was the spirit of the nation and the friends I made that I was so moved by. The amount I learned about science, nature, myself and my place in the world is something I never knew I needed to learn, but I'm so happy I have. Hearing others speak about the life I only dream of was eye opening, disheartening, frustrating and inspiring all at once. As cliche as it sounds, this trip, my very first one out of the country, was really a spiritual awakening for me. To pin point one moment would be to diminish the trip as a whole. Suffice it to say, every moment in that country, in those cabanas, in that classroom, in that water, on that bus, all had a profound impact on me.

It's humbling to be able to see a country so different from your own and yet, at the core, as humanity, so similar. We are all just people trying to make it by as best we can with as much love, happiness, and meaning as we can. The end goal is the same, it just looks a bit different everywhere you go. And I learned to really enjoy those difference and find deep appreciation in them, regardless of how uncomfortable it made me at times. Sure, being so sweaty that I couldn't even put dry clothes on wasn't the best thing in the world, but it definitely wasn't the worst. Staying in a strangers home in a culture so far removed from my own, was terrifying, but left an impression on my heart. Traveling to a country with 20 some strangers was intimidating, but so worth the insights and friendships I gained. All these moments taught me  that you can find inspiration and happiness everywhere and anywhere and under any circumstances.

Our hosts and guides in Belize, who were so generous with their passion and their time, were a big part of that inspiration. Watching them all care so much and so deeply for their country and all the aspects within it, made me sad to take such little pride in mine. We recently learned about sense of place (Kudryavstev, Stedman & Krasny, 2012),  in our CSC course, and, without knowing it at the time, I realized that I have yet to really find mine. These people had, and it left me feeling saddened for myself and yet uplifted to go do the same. And I started to, maybe not my physical sense of place, but my professional and spiritual sense of place. I now know I must use my passion for travel and learning and art and the environment together in some capacity. After walking the premises of the TEC and hiking at Runaway Creek, I realized I love epiphytes and might like to research and photograph them. Or maybe I connect nature with photography in some important way that will aid conservation. Or maybe I spend my life in or on the water researching, monitoring, whatever, especially if it involves Tobacco Caye. But I guess for now, I'll start small. So while I work on getting to a place where I'm professionally involved with the natural world, maybe even with animals, I bide my time with more meaningful work at my current position in retail by promoting recycling programs. Regardless, the path has been cleared and I'm starting to make my way down it.

And with that, I leave you with something I find myself repeating over and over since my magical time in a country I knew nothing about. I'm ready to do so much more and with so much less. It's not always easy, especially when the luster of such an amazing trip starts to dull, but I look to my pictures, my field journal, and my new best friends, and the twinkle is still there, it's just a bit dusty.


Kudryavstev, A., Stedman, R.C., & Krasny, M.E. (2012). Sense of place in environmental education.
Environmental Education Research, 18 (2), 229-250.