These were the words that my ears heard, though my mind could not fully comprehend. These shouts were coming from the mouth of a young woman that was now floating in the Salish sea. Obviously very wet and salty. Possibly cold. Yet the first sounds to come from her mouth, as she popped up from under the waves were “it’s not my fault”, as water and seaweed draped itself over her body and lifejacket.
She was looking at me with complete conviction and sincerity in her expression and her eyes. She really believed what she was saying. I couldn’t believe it myself.
To gain a better understanding to the context of the situation, first we have to go back in time. About twenty minutes to be exact, when this avoidable situation began to unfold.
I was leading a coastal canoeing course The course was comprised of ten young woman with various levels of skill. Minimal to none. The interest level in learning about coastal canoeing I would say, was about the same level of interest as the skill levels.
This was day two, of three. It was a beautiful day. Clear. Sunny. A warm summers day. Perfect ocean conditions. Calm, slack water, and not a wave to be seen – except. We were also paddling along a BC ferries route, and had watched one or two ferries pass by in various locations, though none having any influence on our itinerary. Until now.
About eight hundred metres offshore a ferry was passing by, directly across from us. As with most ships there was a wake, and the wake from the ferry was fairly significant. Especially when you compound it with the fact that we were paddling along the shoreline and just about to disembark from our canoes to the beach. We had enough time. If we didn’t hesitate.
As I watched the waves moving across the ocean. I gauged that we had about ten minutes to get our canoes above the impact zone. Plenty of time. I mentioned to the girls that the ferry had passed by. That there were waves from the ferry on their way, and that they had better hurray up. I was ignored, as I had often been in the past few days. What did I know? The waves would wait, and they were of no importance to the girls.
I told them again as I saw that the waves were now increasing in size and intensity, due to a shallowing of the ocean just offshore from where we were landing. Again, I was a bother in their world of self-absorption and complete disregard for the world around them. I thought to myself time for a lesson, and not taught by me.
The girls were totally oblivious with their canoes parallel to the beach, dangling their legs over the side so that they could step onto the beach, and not get their feet wet. A perfect storm. Broadside canoes. Waves building in size, Humans completely oblivious to what was about to transpire. And it did.
Two canoes were immediately swamped by the breaking waves along the shoreline. One floundered though managed to upright itself for some unknown reason. Good karma perhaps, or a matter of good luck. Who am I to say? Four young woman, now floating in the Salish Sea, yelling “it’s not my fault – it’s the waves fault for tipping us over”. Blame the waves, bad waves. The waves were stalking us. Intent on tipping us over. Stupid waves.
And here we are. Looking around at ourselves and others placing blame. Not taking responsibility for where we are in our lives. In the world. How did we get here? Who or what can we blame? “It’s not my fault escaping with a rush from our lips. Echoing in the world. Of course, it isn’t our fault. Life is hard, and it is supposed to be easy. It looks like it is fun for everyone else. Who can I blame? The government. The corporations. The human with a contrasting opinion to mine.
If only the world would understand and get it right. We are not to blame. We are innocent. It is our right and our destiny. We are the humans. We are the invaders and we have won the war. Nature has lost. We are the conquistadors of a new world order and “burn the ships”. There is no turning back. There is no learning from the past, our elders or our youth. We know best, and everything that we don’t know, rests in the palm of our hands.
The Oracle awaits the caress of our fingers on her keypad to whisper to us sweet revelations. The sirens no longer call from the rocks. We carry them with us everywhere that we go. Their seductions luring us back over and over, dissolving the separation between truth and seduction. The liminal space is now filled. Crowded and busy. Occupying our shattered minds. An illusion that we are still in control. Control of what? Were we ever? Algorithms and insights – which is first?
Seduction and mist. Who am I? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are a player in the game. The game of separation. The game of lost souls. The game of apathy and addictions. The game of responsibility absolved too other! To the other who looks different. Smells different. Sees the world differently. A threat. Back to the Oracle – what to do?
And as I toss and turn in my shattered dreams, I often reflect back. I reflect back to that beach on a summers day when the world was perfect in that moment. We had it all. It was right there. I could taste it. It was that close. It’s not my fault that I lost it.