Oceana – Making a Difference

Today, my friend Phillip and I would like to share some information on Oceana, an international NGO dedicated to protecting and restoring the world’s oceans on a global scale. This organization seeks to make the oceans as rich, healthy, and abundant as they once were by winning policy victories in countries that have a strong impact on what happens to the world’s marine life.

Oceana aligns with SDG Goal 14: to “conserve and sustainably use the oceans, seas and marine resources for sustainable development.” By helping countries develop and pass strong environmental policies, Oceana is making leaps toward achieving Goal 14.

Oceana has done a lot to make an impact. For example, in February of 2019, the Spanish government created the second-largest marine national park in the Mediterranean, thanks to many years of campaign work by Oceana and six research expeditions.

Oceana has also helped the state of Rio Grande do Sul (in southern Brazil) approve a law to ban bottom trawling, an environmentally-destructive fishing practice, in state waters. Now, an area of more than 13,000 sq kilometers is protected from bottom trawling.

Another impact Oceana has made is helping Peru enact a new law to help reduce the use of plastics and plastic pollution. This law also includes an initiative to include rules that ban the use of plastics on Peru’s beaches, coasts, and the country’s many protected areas.

Oceana’s goal is obstructed by several challenges. One of these challenges is overfishing, which threatens the oceans’ ecosystems. Better management of fisheries worldwide could increase the yield of fisheries by 40%, which would not only help with the oceans’ overfishing problem, but also help people whose livelihoods are directly connected to the ocean live more sustainably.

Another challenge is ocean pollution. Components like mercury, antibiotics, oil, trash, and climate-changing gases are extremely harmful to marine wildlife and habitats. In 2010, for example, 200,000,000 gallons of oil spilled into the Gulf of Mexico during the BP oil spill, which was comparable to Kansas in size.

An additional challenge threatening Oceana’s mission is ocean acidification. This describes the concept of the ocean absorbing an increasing amount of CO2, which is making the oceans more acidic. Resulting chemical reactions make it more difficult for marine calcifying organisms, like coral and plankton, to form shells and skeletons. This is just one way that ocean acidification is negatively impacting the oceans.

It is clear that Oceana is doing a lot to conserve and restore the world’s oceans. But, unfortunately, Oceana and other groups dedicated to protecting the oceans cannot achieve their goals by themselves. Ultimately, other SDG’s need to be addressed, too, in order to tackle Goal 14. For example, SDG Goal 13 is to “take urgent action to combat climate change and its impacts by regulating emissions and promoting developments in renewable energy.” Carbon emissions need to be regulated in order to help solve problems like ocean acidification. Another complementary goal is Goal 12: to “ensure sustainable consumption and production patterns.” This goal aims to promote eco-friendly production methods and reduce the amount of waste, which is critical in addressing issues like ocean pollution.

All of Earth’s processes are fatefully intertwined, meaning that making progress on one SDG helps to address others as well. Likewise, avoiding a certain SDG is harmful to other SDG’s. In order to help solve all of the SDG’s, we as individuals need to do everything we can to make personal changes in our own lives, as well as to support the organizations fighting to make a positive difference.

Concluding Thoughts

I’m finishing my journaling by reminiscing on some solitary moments by the French Riviera that I was lucky enough to have. A few months ago, I sat on a rock overlooking the sea, staring out into the vastness of the ocean. I was in Nice, France. The wind blew through my hair and I could smell the saltiness of the sea. In this moment, while looking out, I really felt like I was looking at a piece of the future. I have gone through some difficult things in life, but when I looked out to the ocean on that specific evening, I remember thinking that someday, the hardships will all be worth it, because I will have made it through them to the other side. It is amazing that by simply looking at nature, without any words or music or anything manmade to accompany it, I could experience such a depth of emotions. I said in an earlier post that nature changes you, and I think it can change your outlook too, simply by looking at it. I was so in awe of the majesty and glory of the ocean that I actually felt comforted. It is no wonder that people who spend time in nature are supposed to be happier and healthier than those that don’t. Nature is so important. It needs to be protected. It does not have a voice, but I would like to be a voice for it and use my life to help conserve it.

Just like no one would notice if one tree was removed from a huge forest, individual people are insignificant. But the forest is made up of individuals. Without individual trees, there is no forest. And without individual people, there is no such thing as “mankind” or any hope for the future. Individual trees are insignificant yet important, and so are humans.

the deep dark ocean

I tend to write about nature in an uplifting, positive way, because that is how I usually feel about it. But the truth is that nature is not always beautiful, and it does not always evoke positive emotions. Sometimes, if you think about nature too much, it can produce feelings of utter dread and existentialism. For example, I love the ocean. I think oceans and beaches are some of the most beautiful things on the planet. But sometimes, when I’m on a boat, far into the ocean, I have the creepiest of feelings. I took this picture (below) in the Laguna Madre a few months ago. I was deep sea fishing. The picture seems nice enough, and it is. But when I was looking at those waters, a feeling of dread came over me when I thought about the vast depth of the ocean, the millions of creatures lurking beneath, and my complete and total helplessness without the boat. I mean, I can swim, but the thought of being thrown overboard and left there, even with land in sight, paralyzed me with fear. I love the ocean, but I also fear it. I’m only 21, meaning that sometimes I feel invincible like most other people my age, but I never feel invincible when I’m in the ocean. It is moments like these, when I’m out in the deep ocean, when I both appreciate the beauty of it and also acknowledge my helplessness and mortality. I may love the ocean, but God made me a dweller of land, and I never plan on challenging him on that.

In the Words of Robert Frost…

I recently read a lovely poem called “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. Despite the poem’s renown and my affinity for reading poetry, I had never heard it before, but I really like it. I like it because it evokes a very specific mood: somber, yet peaceful. The poem is apparently about death. I don’t completely disagree, but I interpreted it to mean something beyond simply “death.” I interpreted the poem to be a sort of quiet, solemn, peaceful acceptance of darkness – not literal darkness, but metaphorical darkness. The poem evokes a strong feeling of stoicism. Frost describes the woods as “lovely, dark and deep.” The word “lovely” feels like a blithe admiration for the surface beauty of the forest. The word “dark” seems both literal and metaphorical. The woods are literally dark because it is evening, but I think that word, in this context, also seems to point to something ominous and almost sinister, but not quite. Frost is hinting that there is a metaphorical darkness about the woods that perhaps we don’t understand. He also describes the woods as “deep.” Again, I think this is literal in that the woods have a literal breadth to them. But also, I think Frost is hinting that there is a metaphorical depth and/or power in the woods, and nature in general, that is beyond our human comprehension. After the line “The woods are lovely, dark and deep,” Frost dismisses the subject, saying “But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.” It’s as if he is acknowledging the depth and darkness of the woods, and life in general perhaps, but also acknowledges his insignificance of it all. He has no control or true understanding of the deep, dark mysteries of the world, and he is accepting of that, so he may as well keep trudging along, stopping to ponder along the way, and asking questions, before he will eventually be enlightened to all of the answers when he “sleeps” (whether that means being enlightened in his dreams or enlightened through death).

Seagulls

I think about birds all the time. I think about their lives – where they might sleep at night, the kinds of food they eat, the way they take for granted their ability to fly, and their often perceived insignificance.

One of my favorite opportunities to observe birds is at the beach. My family goes to South Padre Island almost every summer, and each time, I spend a considerable part of the trip observing the birds. This past summer, I went on a long beach walk and paid special attention to the beautiful seagulls. Like usual, I thought about their lives: their daily habits of flying, eating, resting, and sleeping on the beach. I love the sound of their smooth, high-pitched calls.

I gazed upon the flocks of seagulls, some flying overhead, some standing calmly on the sand, their feathers ruffled by the breeze while looking out to see, and some hunting for prey at the surface of the water. Seagulls live a much simpler life than we humans do, but no less legitimate. To them, the beach is their home. Different humans intrude upon the beaches every single day, but the same seagulls remain. They raise families like we do, they compete against others for survival, and they search for food day in and day out. And despite all of this, I still catch glimpses of them resting – just standing, looking out… simply just existing. I think about that sometimes. I think about moments of mere existence, and I think about the inherent value of nature’s mere existence.

And then there are brilliant moments of seagulls in flight overhead, displaying what seems to me as the ultimate form of freedom. I took a picture as a humble attempt at capturing that sense of freedom. I think it’s important for me to always spend time thinking about the birds.

Jacob’s Well

A few months ago, I got to experience one of Texas’s hidden natural gems – Jacob’s Well. My sister and I took a road trip just to see it and swim in its cool, clear waters. Many stories and even legends surround the 30-foot well, which branches out into two much, much longer underwater tunnels that only some of the bravest scuba divers have ventured into.

I will never forget the moment I first caught sight of the well. The two of us were standing on a large boulder overlooking it. The clear, bluish water of the surrounding stream suddenly dropped into a deep, dark, mysterious hole that people of all ages and ethnicities eagerly took turns jumping into. I couldn’t waste any time before dipping my feet into the cool, clear water. Once we had set down our few belongings underneath a tree, we lowered ourselves down into the coolness of the water. I watched as a couple of small fish swam around my ankles. I was amazed at how clearly I could see them through the water. Being so close to them made me feel especially close with nature in that moment, more like I was a part of it, rather than merely inhabiting it. We swam and swam, slipping a few times on the soft, velvety bottom of the creek.

Soon enough, it was time for us to jump into the well for the first of many times. I believe my sister jumped first, and I followed. The well is considered dangerous, as many visitors have banged their heads against the surrounding rocks while plunging into the deep. Thankfully, our calculated jumps went smoothly. The feeling of descending down into crystal clear water was unlike anything else I have experienced before. Each time I surfaced after a plunge, I wanted to do it again. So I would climb back up onto the boulder and jump to my heart’s content. While I waited my turn to jump, I would stare down into the dark abyss, trying to observe as much as I could. I saw a few fish swimming peacefully across the well, and at one point, I even saw a healthy-sized, striped green turtle. He seemed friendly and hungout in the same place for a while, almost like a curious audience member.

After a couple of hours at the well, it was time to go home. But I am sure to return. It won’t be long before I bring new friends to experience the marvelous sight and feeling of the legendary Jacob’s Well.

A Trip Through the Clouds

How beautiful are clouds? And how strange are they? They are enormous, pillowy water structures in the gaseous form – constantly moving, never still even for a second. A snapshot of a cloud is really a snapshot of a single moment, a single second in time, that then dissipates forever. To me, nothing in nature seems to be as fleeting as a cloud.

And there is nothing that challenges your perspectives as much as flying in an airplane ABOVE the clouds. Looking down from the cold, roundish window of the plane in those moments feels like an experience that mankind was never supposed to have. We weren’t made with wings, and yet, through the intelligence of our own minds, we figured out a way to fly. Not only do we fly, but we fly higher than any bird flies. And we look down on the Earth almost as though we are God. It’s a frightening position to be in, literally for those who experience anxiety on planes, and figuratively, for those who dare take the time to think about it.

As I looked down on the clouds a few months ago on my trip to Vermont, it felt like looking down at the ocean, except the ocean was white, fluffy, and changing shape. I had some horrible thoughts of the plane losing control and plunging downward, straight through those soft, structure-less clouds. But I was able to stay calm enough to appreciate this unique perspective that even just one hundred years ago, almost no one had ever experienced before.

Nature changes us. It changes our perspectives all the time, especially when we view it from different angles. It is important to allow ourselves to remain malleable to the changes Nature can offer us.

A Corn Field in Vermont

Just a couple of months ago, I was exploring the wild wilderness of Vermont during the state’s peak Autumn season, when the trees were exploding in a cacophony of color. I was with one of my dear friends, Ian, who came to visit me from New York while I was there. In the late afternoon, we decided to take a drive a few miles down from the quaint bed and breakfast where I was staying. We wanted to explore as much of the area as possible, which we thought could be best accomplished by car.

A few minutes into our drive through the jagged roads of Vermont, surrounded by trees the entire way, we came across a vast field of what was either corn or wheat crop; we couldn’t quite tell. Anyway, we decided to stop the car and explore on foot. We marveled at how the light of the sun made the crisp leaves of the crops gleam with the most brilliant color of green before edging around the field, walking on a sort of path between the crops and dozens of birch and aspen trees. I was amazed at the black, jutted markings on the whitish grey bark of the birches, a natural contrast of color that is pleasing to the eye. After walking around the field, we decided to wander slightly into the cornfield. Neither of us had done that before and we wanted to see what it was like. We stood about a foot taller than the crops surrounding us. Then we crouched down, imagining the scores of small prey that have probably escaped capture by predators, hiding among the thick, cool, leafy abyss. In this moment, we were experiencing of the earliest forms of mankind manipulating nature. Agriculture, once a brilliant and innovative discovery of how people could tame nature for their own utility, now seemed so pure and simple, almost as if it were a piece of nature in itself.

Ian and I enjoyed our time in the field of crops, but soon decided to head back to the car. We had arrived with a sense of eagerness and anticipation, and we left with a feeling of wonder and appreciation for our natural environment.

A Stroll Down the Green Belt

A couple of weeks ago, I had the great pleasure of taking a walk down one of the paths of Austin, Texas’s “Green Belt,” a truly special and extraordinary experience. I was with one of my closest friends, Tom, who came from London for a visit. We started down the path around 3pm. Tom trekked through the soft dirt and rocks in crisp white tennis shoes, while I made my way in brown boots that were certainly not made for hiking. The weather was perfectly clear and crisp – about 65 degrees with an occasional breeze. It was warm enough to be outside without a sweater, and even for a dip in the stream. We strolled through the path, the comforting sound of a stream to our left at all times. The trees were tall and yellowing with the Fall.  The bright sun filtered through the many tree branches, making patterns with the level of intricacy I’ve only seen in a kaleidoscope. After about 45 minutes of walking, we came upon a beautiful scene: a break in the woods and a widening of the creek. The magnificence of what we saw was stunning enough to compel us to stop. Tom discretely took a picture of me as I gazed into the grandeur of the creek-turned-river. The way the mid-afternoon sun hit the surface of the water reminded me of the kind of brightness that I usually only associate with divinity from above. Simply speaking, it was beautiful. I felt so lucky to experience such a sight with such a wonderful friend. There is something special about experiencing nature’s majesty in the presence of a friend. Somehow, it seems to bring people closer. People bond over experiencing beautiful things together. This case was no different. We reminisce over this moment all of the time. In my mind, nature is truly one of God’s greatest gifts to humanity.

An Afternoon in the Kayak

Recently, I decided to spend the afternoon on White Rock Lake (in Dallas) with my sister, Lauren. It was sort of a spontaneous idea, but I am so glad we did it. It was a particularly warm day for the season, and we wanted to escape the heat. Lauren drove us all the way to the lake from our home in Allen about forty minutes away. We purchased cold water bottles at the site where kayaks could be rented before paddling off in bright orange kayaks. I had never kayaked before, so the experience was particularly exciting for me. I paddled faster than my sister did, partly out of excitement. The novelty was refreshing. We paddled away from the kayak rental hut, under a bridge, and into a quieter, calmer sort of lagoon area with an abundance of green trees and foliage on either side of the water. I played music on my iphone and we floated and talked. We talked about future nature excursions we wanted to do together.

While in the kayak, I couldn’t help but think about how incredible it was to be just a couple of inches away from the surface of the water, but in the middle of a lake. I could touch the water with my fingertips, yet there was no land anywhere near me. I felt like I was sitting directly on the surface of the water, which felt like the kind of miracle you only get to experience through reading the Bible. This closeness with nature is always a thrilling feeling for me. I liked it especially because I knew I wasn’t contributing to any pollution in the environment. My little kayak was powered by none other than my own two arms. I imagined how deep the lake might be. I thought it must be very deep when we were out in the middle of it, but much less deep in the cozier lagoon. I loved the trees. The green of the trees and the bluish green of the water gave me a sense of comfort as I peered through my tinted sunglasses, shielded from the sun by my big sunhat. I was very happy.

Perhaps a paddle in a kayak is one of the purest ways one can experience nature.