45 Comments

Im going to send you a little poem later on - when I swam with my first love in bioluminescent plankton - or maybe I should send you one of the night the forest gave me more fireflies than you can imagine and the whole forest became fairyland?! Joy is bioluminescent - oh yes it certainly is!!!!! ❤️

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ah I cannot wait to read them!! joy, joy, joy! x

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beautiful. My dear father-in-law, who died in 2021, was called Ming :) And yes! If the price for joy is death, I am happy to pay it too.

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thank you, Jan - I hope you and Ming shared many moments of joy x

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Heavenly writing and memories Rebecca, I have felt the joy, of swimming in bioluminescence, of watching stars above and below, only once but the memory never fades. And this morning, just an hour ago, a new joy to add to the memory, a fog bow, which I have never seen before and likely never will again, reduced me to tears as I walked... so yes if the price for joy is death, I will pay with pleasure for there is so much to be had if we open our hearts and eyes... 💫

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oh my gosh, wow! I have never seen a fog bow. That must have been incredible! Thank you for sharing this joy - and for the lovely comment xx

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Oh wow, beautiful writing, and noticings. ⚡

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thank you so much!

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This was exquisite. I'll make sure to not miss your words going forward.

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thanks so much, Alexandra! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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Thank you for sharing such a profound image of joy. I am looking forward to reading more from you.

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thank you so much, Jeannine! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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What a wonderful post. Thank you for it. I especially loved this passage:

'If I had to give joy an image, I would call it bioluminescence. A thousand sparks shouting into the dark. But rather than sparks within the darkness of a night-sea, they are sparks within the darkness of a cranium. Synapses bursting with light; networks of neurons humming with electricity; fireworks and magic within the hollow of a skull.'

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thank you for this lovely comment, Roselle, I'm so glad you enjoyed the piece x

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Lovely reflection!

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Thank you, Kassi!

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I loved this Rebecca, you write so beautifully.

I was thinking of joy and then happiness, and how they are close but different. I have thought often of happiness but very little of joy, so you have opened my eyes.

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thank you Rosalind, I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Yes, I think there is a distinction between them and happiness is the one we think about more - it felt right to give joy a moment in the sun!

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I love your writing, not just because it’s beautiful, but because it makes me think. Thank you for these glimpses into your life and experiences! You inspired my Note today :)

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oh thank you so much Laurel, this is wonderful to read!

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Wonderful Rebecca! Sensual, beautifully paced. Yes, and timely for me as joy in my writing has been also weaving me a merry dance of late. Thank you.

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thanks so much Alun! I'm glad it struck a chord (and that joy has been weaving through your work, too!)

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At the beginning of this year I wrote that I thought 2024 should be the year of the tardigrade. 'The tardigrade is a tiny indefinite Jesus. Wikipedia: “Tardigrades have survived all five… mass extinctions due to their plethora of survival characteristics, including the ability to survive conditions that would be fatal to almost all other animals... Zoom out: such a thing as a tardigrade-cult wouldn’t exist if the tardigrade didn’t pluck a chord of mythic resonance for our times. Who hasn’t wished to hibernate for a few years, just to get a break from the relentless unfavourability of the twenty-first century?'

https://rosiewhinray.substack.com/p/consider-the-tardigrade

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ah the tardigrade!!! I almost wrote about tardigrades and greenland sharks in this piece, but in the end the ocean quahog said all I needed to say - excited to read your link, thanks for sharing :)

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Your words put me right “beneath the swallow of stars” where I felt as if my own boundaries were dissolving inside your prose. And I couldn’t fathom a more beautiful place to unbecome. Indeed, the price is great, but oh so worth it. Thank you beautiful human!

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oh thank you for this wonderful comment, Kimberly!! x

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Sing it, sister. This is gorgeous. I have swum in bioluminescence, too, and linking it to joy is so exactly right. I feel it, as deeply as I feel anger for Ming.

"science must learn to respect the wondrous; science must learn that this world does not exist for our quantification of it." 💜

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thank you Mary Beth!! I had a feeling this might strike a chord with you :) x

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Yes - beautiful again, Rebecca. I too have had experience with bioluminescence, just a couple of times - on both occasions arriving at the right place and time by simple accident. Beyond magical....

Your Quahog: I read up on them myself, after first hearing about them in your recent post, and I came across the sad story of Ming. It immediately made me think of a parallel event:

in 1964 a Dendochronologist in the USA cut down a Bristlecone Pine tree in the White Mountains of Nevada, in order to section it and count the growth rings, which he did.

The result: he had just found - and killed - the oldest known non-clonal organism on Earth. The "Prometheus Tree" was at least 5,000 years old on the day it was destroyed.

Even writing that brings tears to my eyes.

The act was kept very quiet, and many sources still list the nearby "Methuselah Tree" as the world's oldest (non-clonal) tree, but Methuselah is at least 200 years younger.

I understand that another living Bristlecone in the same area has recently been dated at over 5,000 years (by obtaining a non-destructive core with a drill). The exact location of that tree - and Methuselah - are kept secret.

Meg and I have made three pilgrimages to the high White Mountains of Nevada, to walk amongst the Bristlecone Pines in their cold clear mountain refuge perched up above Death Valley. To be in their presence is an intense and transcendent experience.

My description - and a few photos - are on my Substack at https://davidkirkby.substack.com/p/bristlecone?r=471m47

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That’s an absolutely heartbreaking story David 😢

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Yes. Totally heartbreaking. I first heard about this in an account by the late, and very great, mountaineer and photographer, Galen Rowell. His marvellous book "High and Wild" (published in 1979, with a few later reprints) contains an account of a winter ski traverse of the White Mountains, in which he goes searching for - and finds - the remnants of the Prometheus Tree. He gives a detailed account of what happened in 1964. These days there are versions of the story available online from various sources. As a "non-clonal" tree the Bristlecones really are astonishing. To sit with a tree which is thousands of years old is.... inexpressibly moving.

The internet has all kinds of claims about old trees. Most are untrue or exaggerated - though there are certainly many other incredible old trees, in all kinds of places. Trees are a particular passion for me, and I've done a lot of research. The Bristlecones definitely hold the record at present - though a Cypress pine species in South America may be close.

(Clonal trees are amazing too - but although each tree is identical, and the colony may be many thousands of years old, each individual tree is much younger).

I just realised that my Substack post did not have the back story - which was only on my Facebook post. I have just copied it across to Substack.

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Some years ago I travelled around the uk looking for the oldest yew trees and found some incredibly sacred places! It is certainly a very special thing to be close to such an ancient being.

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oh it's so incredibly heartbreaking to read about the 5000 year old tree. It strikes me that in both cases, the Prometheus tree and Ming, the researchers knew they'd done something awful. With Ming, they were quoted as saying they killed it by accident, but many other reports say they killed Ming in order to age it and these reports seem more believable to me. In any case, I think what both cases highlight is that scientists must have more care and respect for the natural world - I think we currently have quite a colonial mindset - thinking it is our right, as humans, in the name of knowledge, to do whatever we want. I really hope this changes (but I also feel like this is optimistic). In the meantime, let's spread our respect and joy at ancient trees (I adore yews, too, Susannah!) and ancient creatures into the world and hope it makes a difference, somehow x

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You briefly took me to a different dimension altogether with your words. I have mad admiration for the way you can use language!🙌🏻❤️

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ah what a lovely thing to read! thank you so much Aparajita! x

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