"I do not fear death, in view of the fact that I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it."
- Mark Twain
"Reality is whatever refuses to go away after I stop believing in it."
- Phillip K. Dick
Seven of our 90-ish resident Orca whales have apparently died, including the almost 100 year old matriarch. It makes me sad. I have seen them so many times, I have come to love them. I love the mysterious world they live in, and the mammalian breath they can hold for uncounted minutes. I love that they sing and love each other, and that they are still fundamentally mysterious to us in so many ways.
I've been wanting to go to San Juan Island for a couple of weeks. I haven't been there in a year and a half, since Mom's first posthumous birthday. I feel a compulsion to take the long ferry ride through her beloved green islands, to sit on her beach, and to just be for a bit. I need to let my pieces fall back into place. Maybe I'll see the whales.
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