"A Call to Action"

I love how the water’s delicate push makes me feel like a rolling stone- I move freely until the current settles, and it feels right to sit still. Then, I get the chance to wonder why I stopped where I’ve stopped. Often times, there’s no definite reason apart from a connection, or Querencia, that forces me to drop my natural buoyancy and fall over its beauty. Once I am still, my heart begins to explain its meaning. 

                  Day 1 of research: we were assigned to a specific reef to study with our buddies. The iridescent, crepuscular rays of sun first drew my eye. It’s not until you are 30 feet below sea level that the sun truly makes its appearance, displaying its natural radiance through its rays, one my one, jumping and scattering like acrobats through the thick, blue surface. Next, it was a piece of coral, confidently swaying atop the rock: neon purple roots, ombré to its white tips- a simple sight from afar.          Then it was the sponges. I peeked in, wide-eyed, just to realize that they hide from us in their sponge cave just as we may hide from a reality by swimming in the oceans. 

                  A slightly lighter piece of coral, unexposed to the sun dance just a few feet above, caught my glance. This coral, hiding under the rock, whispered to me differently than the hiding fish in the sponge: it wasn’t looking to hide. Me seeing this piece of coral was me accepting its desperation, and now, accepting an urge to understand how this happened. I gave up my weight to the sediment floor and stared. Why is this piece of coral less vibrant, less vital, compared to its sister coral above?

                  I swam up to my original location above the neon purple coral: a thriving colony of zooxanthelae painted its polyps. The green algae around it made it seem even fuller of life. The current made it dance with the sun’s rays, just as a piece of coral should. Then I turned my back to the bleaching stem of the lavender piece: an ineffably disappointing sight. I flapped my hand before its limbs to assist its dance, less care-free than that of the neon coral. 

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                  The lavender vibrancy was what was left of the few zooxanthellae strong enough to adapt to the bleaching coral’s conditions. Soon, they will all be gone, and the coral will have produced its full limestone exoskeleton, never to return to life. It’s crazy how one life can thrive within such close reach of another, slowly dying with no access to cure, and out of reach of care until someone takes the time to stop and wonder.

                  This thought leaves us powerless: guilt-stricken to the cruelty we have imposed without knowing how dangerous the effect: coral bleaching. I love the ocean for the raw sense of simplicity it exudes; however, this situation is complex, and it is vital for people, the killing species, to acquire knowledge of our harm. Through our awe at the ocean’s striking simplicity, we must see the individual connections that make up the grander complexity we can easily miss at first glance.           

                  Unlike most land species, coral has no terminal growth, but rather grows until something stops it. Thirty minutes of staring at this piece of coral cannot justify why I love the oceans, but that moment defines my call to action: do whatever is in my power to stop being the distant wall to their growth.