Last week I got to spend a wonderful day at SeaWorld as a part of my job. For those of you that don't know, I work for a school called National University and I am an admissions advisor that primarily works with international students that are studying abroad here in the United States. Once a quarter our International Student Services department does some sort of fun event so that they can take pictures of it and put it on a brochure to give it to prospective students so that they will think the University is super fun and they will want to give us money in order to attend. Somehow I finagled my way onto the trip roster and spent a Friday with Hamid and Mojgan from Iran, Chit Ko Lee from China, Mosha from Russia, and Shamu from Antartica.
If you live in San Diego and have never been to Sea World I would strongly advise your attendance. In no way is this place overrated. Watching dolphins, whales, and sea lions flip, flop, and splash is worth the price of admission.
Anyway, my friend Heather works for Sea World on the rescue team that takes in wounded sea animals, nurses them back to health, and then releases them back into the pacific from whence they came. So just remember that the next time you're working on that excel sheet trying to beat that deadline while you have 9 voicemails that you haven't checked yet, Heather is probably getting paid to cuddle with this guy.
Tricks
Heather taught me a neat trick one time. Apparently every dolphin that SeaWorld acquires is trained and built up to perform in the dolphin show. However, only a select few of the most gifted actually it in. We're talking about the Miami Heat of dolphins. Those not in the elite section of the Cetacean family are sent to open display called Dolphin Point. These dolphins don't have nearly the same ability or intelligence as the one's chosen for the show. They are more like the Sacramento Kings of dolphins. Anyway Heather told me that these dolphins are still pretty smart and well trained. Supposedly if you get the attention of one and you flick your finger like you're drawing the Nike "Swoosh" logo in the sky, they will swim to the center of the pool and jump in the air. They do this in the hopeful anticipation of being rewarded with a tasty fish. I have never tried this or seen it done but while I was visiting I spent some time reflecting on how these animals live. By no means am I an animal rights activist but man do they live a responsive life. Following the instruction and impulses of others: Jumping through hoops, carrying balls on their nose, splashing the crowd, doing backflips. All for the hope of a dead fish and the applause of the crowd.
Dammit if those little finned sea creatures didn't make me reflect on my own responsive nature that I am so prone to. Sometimes I find myself treating life like my own sea stage. I'm very good at knowing what other people want to see out of me. What tricks to perform and hoops to jump through in order to get them to be happy. Sometimes I wonder whether or not other people can tell that this whole act is just to get that standing ovation at the end. What do I need to do? Dress like this? Joke like this? Talk like this? If I can get that approval at the end of the show it will all be worth it. Until this group of people leave and I have to perform for the next show in 2 hours.
Cage
Every time I visit SeaWorld I inevitably end up having a similar experience while I am there. I find some animal that I convince myself I'm sharing a moment with. I lock eyes with this baby penguin by the corner of his cage up against the glass window and for a moment as we gaze at each other I am certain we understand each other in a way that no one else can. My prospective idea of becoming the world's first penguin whisperer aside, seeing animals in cages does stir up a bit of sympathy in me. By no means am I an animal rights activist but I can't help but wonder if they do feel trapped sometimes. What if one of the other penguins is mean or annoying? Do they ever wonder what life is like beyond the wall and away from it all?
Shoot here comes that self reflection again. Sometimes I'm trapped in a cage with this thing I can't stand. This way of thinking, this negative attitude toward family or co-workers, this destructive way of dealing with life. I just wish I could get out. Then I have this interaction with someone on the other side of the glass that looks at my circumstances compassionately and shows me what life is like outside the cage. I've been here for so long, is there really a way out?
Freedom
One summer, when I was 12 or so, my family decided to take a summer trip to Kauai, Hawaii. Kauai is one of the many places my dad's grandiose personality has taken us. And while we are there, he of course spares no expense to show the entire island just how much money he can blow on experiences that prove meaningless when taken in context that his family swims in a sea of dysfunction. [Put the resentment away Matt, this a blog] Sorry. ANYWAY, one of things we got to do while we were there was go Dolphin watching. We all piled into a speed boat with the nice tour guide that escaped to the islands because life on the mainland of the richest country in the world was apparently too rough for him. As the man whose tan undoubtedly leads me to believe he has only years to live before he contracts skin cancer takes us to the best wild dolphin viewing spot on the island, I am eager with anticipation. To pass the time on the boat we Bishop kids played a game called "who can be the first one to vomit so much over the boat that we actually puke our spleen into the ocean". GIVING US DRAMAMINE BEFORE HAND WOULD HAVE BEEN YOUR JOB MOM. About 13 full vomit cycles later, my sister points in blissful relief that she sees dolphins straight ahead. Our captain and guide eases back on the engines and we gently drift toward the pod of dolphins as they swim around playfully. As they see us draw near, they swim straight for us, jumping out of the water and spinning around joyfully. These spins were incredible, sometimes they would launch completely out of the water and complete 4 or 5 complete spins before splashing back down into the crystal blue water. As we watched in amazement, my younger brother Joel asked our guide Hakineke (which I am convinced is translated to mean "he who doesn't pay child support") why they do that. Apparently there's a fascinating story behind these dolphins. Years before, researchers had spent millions dollars to answer this question. After all that time, money, and resources spent trying to get to the bottom of this natural mystery, they came to the following conclusion: The spinner dolphins are just having fun. It wasn't a mating call, a way of communicating, or a tactic to scare off predators, it was just an expression of happiness.
I cherish the seasons in my life where I can be more like a spinner dolphin. Free from the distraught life of being caged in and free from the pressure to perform tricks. The thing is, people are still thrilled to see these dolphins in action but rather than following the orders of people they get to be who they inherently are gifted to be and it benefits others.
I think this is how my giftedness works. In order to really see it thrive I have to be out of cages that keep me trapped in addictions, thoughts of shame, or apathy and I have to be away from crowds that cause me to lose my focus and aim for an applause. Out there in the wild away from all the confusion and noise, is where I am able to just be spinning free.
