Remembering

Remembering
​by Rebecca Brugman

I am not much of a swimmer. Despite childhood beliefs that I was a mermaid, being underwater still makes me squeamish. I can manage quick summer dashes into the barely warmed lake on the one blistering day we have in a season. Otherwise, I’m a an ankle deep hovering person looking for shells. 
 
Until I dreamt of whales. 
 
I struggled out of sleep that morning, literally gasping for air, knowing I was too dizzy to open my eyes.  The swirling in my head matched the ache in my guts and I was certain I’d be sick. I waited for the adrenaline chill to pass and tried to breathe myself into a calm place. Somewhere in there I remembered I had a heartbeat and with relief found that the constant thump finally settled my being. 
 
Then I heard the whale song. 
 
In this vague in between state I felt vibrations, recognized the squealing tones, and relaxed into a heaviness of body I can only explain as shape shifting. 
 
The song told me of ancient things. It reminded me of our watery beginnings. I marveled in the way the ocean held my body.  I danced in bubbles and watched schools of fish flashing. I asked what my whale body needed to do and the answer was immediate. “Swim far. Escape.”
 
I rose up into the starlit sky and knew that these whales were trapped. They had become misdirected somehow, hence the dizziness. I felt they were growing weak with hunger, echoed in my guts. They were having trouble reaching a small air hole in the ice. I shivered knowing my lungs had felt their anguish. 
 
I prayed for them then. I called to my universal supports to guide them. I gathered reiki energy and did my best to find an astral map that would show them the way out. I extricated myself from the meld and carried the sorrow into my day. 

​Of course, I researched it and found a report of dozens stranded in arctic ice that had been discovered during the night. Over the next few days, the news showed efforts and eventually they were freed. 

(c) Rebecca Brugman

Their song told me of ancient things. It reminded me of our watery beginnings. I marveled in the way the ocean held my body.  I danced in bubbles and watched schools of fish flashing.

​I wasted no time getting to our local jewelry shop to purchase a bone pendant of a whale. I have worn various totems since high school. I had been without one for some time waiting for my next teacher. 
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Over the next years while wearing that piece, I came to a deep level of peace and understanding about the songs we hold in our souls. I learned to listen again. I practiced making tones and yes, I went swimming. I allowed myself to connect on every level imaginable to this majestic creature. I healed far back and far forward. I gathered lessons about motherhood and community. I stretched myself into telepathy and resonant echolocation. 
 
Many people commented on the necklace. I’d just say it helped to keep me afloat. In all this knowing, my story mixes with others like raindrops becoming a cloud. My joining with the whales showed me how to cascade onto beaches and tumble down mountain streams both as a molecule and a torrent. 
 
I am surrounded by ocean on this island. I shout a hello to the whales almost every day from the shore. I refuse to pester them on big boats for a few pictures. I’ve moved onto different lessons these days but the abundance of wisdom, acceptance, forgiveness, and music received from whales forever changed me.