In and Out of Time

One of the loveliest gifts I've ever received was a visit from a turtle. It happened at a cottage where I recently spent a week with friends. My slow friend, Monica, (ref. Dec. 15, 2009 post) and I, were lounging by the lake when she noticed a large, mature turtle swimming very near the end of the dock. We approached it very carefully, and noticed that it was lying face-up, on its back, close to the surface of the water. Perhaps it was enjoying the warm sun. It's hard to say, because I'm no expert on turtles. However, it was clear it felt no threat from either of the humans who stood so near. After a few moments of sunning herself, the turtle began to explore the shallow water, diving down and then swimming back up to the surface, each time getting closer and closer to Monica and me.
The turtle took its time, of course. She wasn't in any rush to go anywhere. In fact, she looked as if she wanted to check us out. On one of her final ascents to the surface, mere inches from the edge of the dock where we stood, she appeared to be looking straight at us, as if to say "I trust you. You're okay, so take a good look at me while you can." Her slow, easy movements in the water were mesmerizing. She was putting on a great show.
The turtle hung around for several breathtaking minutes. I usually reserve the word "breathtaking" for something that's spectacular, and wouldn't have thought to use such a term for the graceful display of turtle in its natural habitat. As lovely as that is, I would have thought that it wasn't spectacular enough to be considered breathtaking. But Mother Nature continues to teach me otherwise. Only after the turtle finished checking us out and showing off her expert swimming skills - although it hung around for a while afterwards, swimming here and there, under and around the dock - did I realize I had been holding my breath as I watched her aquatic manoeuvres. I didn't dare breathe in case I broke the spell. And a spell it most surely was.
The time I spent watching that turtle was magical. I felt suspended between worlds; everything else around me fell away. I was rapt. And I don't suppose it surprises any of my readers when I say there's no way that turtle's visit was random. I'm pretty sure if Monica and I had been fishermen or hunters standing on the same dock, the turtle wouldn't have approached us. As a matter of fact, animals and birds had been approaching the shoreline of the property quite boldly for several days. I've been to the same cottage once before, when Monica wasn't there, and the wildlife guests were fewer and farther between. I'm pretty sure it's because Monica has a delicate, quiet magic about her, which she disguises well with a practical, measured approach to life. For serious health reasons, she moves through life slowly and carefully. One of her principal totems is surely the turtle.
Turtles are symbolic of the fairy realm, because they spend much of their time between water and land, in-between one place and another. In-between places are considered to be portals to the otherworld. On a number of occasions, when I've been with Monica, I've noticed strange, very subtle and inexplicable occurrences that qualify as magical in my books.
The turtle is also one of the most universal symbols for Mother Earth, because of it's shape and the fact that she carries her home with her all the time. Turtles represent long life and wisdom as well, because they live longer than any other animal on the planet. It so happens the turtle of this story appeared to us on a full moon. Not-so-coincidentally, native North Americans associate the turtle with lunar cycles and feminine energies, which is why I've been referring to the turtle that visited us as female.
I paid attention to the turtle's message. She reminded me to slow down, breathe and observe the rhythms of nature. Indeed, I felt a momentary deep connection to that turtle. I believe she was genuinely revealing herself to Monica and me, and not just randomly passing by. Imagined or not, the connection felt very real to me, and just because something isn't real, doesn't mean it isn't true. Anyone who spends time suspended between worlds, even though it may just be in their nightly dreams, knows whereof I speak.
I spent a few minutes with a quiet, gentle creature that took my breath away. The vision of that turtle rising to the surface of the water, looking straight at me, trusting and teaching me, shall remain with me for the rest of my life. And maybe, just maybe, if I listen to Turtle's lessons, my life will be long, and my choices wise.
Blessed be,
- G.P.