Dear reader,
If you’ve been celebrating the World Cup, happy quarterfinals! We’re gettin’ down to it.
Have you been whale watching? If not, DO IT. I got to witness whales in their natural habitat for the first time in the Salish Sea off the coast of Vancouver. Shoutout to the Prince of Whales crew — they embodied attentive hospitality from the dock to the open seas and back!
It was a chilly, rainy day on the water — a welcome change from our currently sizzling summer. Our boat cut through the waves. Sheets of rain painted the windows with fervor. Our eyelashes fluttered fast on the open deck.
As we ventured deeper, there they were. A family of orcas. A whole pod. Mama Tasu, son Rocky (apparently an eligible bachelor), and his younger siblings.
Orca pods are matriarchal. The oldest female leads — she is the living memory of the pod. She knows the migration routes, the feeding grounds, the other pods worth trusting. Her children travel with her for life, until the end (jusqu’à la FIN). Sons never leave. Daughters eventually lead their own pod. When the matriarch goes, the pod feels it in ways science is still trying to measure.
Soon, we got to see them delightfully meet a different pod for the first time. Some serious social bonding ensued!
The road is long, the seasons swimming with rough waters and smooth sailing — either way, you’re gonna need and want your pod around you. If you’re with your pod/people/team, it’ll be safe to explore and come up for air when you need, always.
Orcas seem to answer the question of 'to stay or to go?' no biggie. They illustrate that the pod is the point. The only constant is change. Stay and go together, and you will be successful in every place.
Migration patterns are also interesting because they require pods to travel far, instinctively. And whales just do it. Constantly adjusting, making changes, making the move to find the right temp, food source, and environment. Every summer, orcas migrate to the Pacific Northwest. The water tells them when. The salmon tell them where.
The ocean is far, wide, deep. So is the story of your life. The truth is you haven’t even met all the people who will love you and all the people you’ll get to love YET. I treasure the openheartedness, the hope in that.
What a gift it is that we get to live, love, and explore alongside our Earth’s exceptional creatures. Grateful for marine biologists’ wise perspectives on life through their continual study — all you marine experts, feel free to expand upon anything shared in this letter.
If you know of a human equivalent of echolocation, please let me know. I am always on the lookout for kindred spirits in the wild!
With much love & to going beyond the surface,
Anjali