Trust Transcended

Gazing down the beach and back through time, I see a different beach. The year was 1968, and the social restlessness and adjustment that periodically grip our democracy were in bloom. It was the year of the flower child, of the distrust of institutions, of yearnings for the materialization of the invisible unity behind all things.

Though respectful of those youthful outpourings, even then I sought growth in my own way, individually and privately. So it was that I walked the shore of a deserted beach that day under a subtropical sun, alert for the lesson that nature would bring. A small, dark object moved near my feet. A newly hatched sea turtle, still wet from the egg. Rapidly it slid across the sand. Under the urging of drives fashioned at the dawn of life, it sought union with the sea, even as I now do with a greater ocean. Tiny flippers, textured with delicate, olive-brown beadings, stroked the hot sand rhythmically in swimming motions as it scooted along in a series of jerks.

Though it did not know it, danger threatened. The cool wetness that the animal sought lay not before it--but behind. The hatchling's urgent race pointed up a sandy slope to a highway and the terrible wheels of passing automobiles. Beyond lay parched sand and dry weeds--no ocean anywhere.

I did not wish to interfere. The journey of discovery was an important part of the turtle's birth. But I picked the gently rocking infant up with two fingers, unnoticed by it in its intense pursuit, and walked into the waves. The tiny flippers swam through the air as we went.

Beneath the surface where I stood in two feet of water, coral outcroppings lay visible--perils against which the surging undertow could smash a vulnerable body. For a moment I hesitated, but then released the turtle below the surface, out of reach of the frenzied waves. I did not know if the little turtle could breach the barrier between the world of land and sea, could breast the powerful undertow and sharp coral to reach calmer depths. Even if it could, another danger remained. Will it swim out to sea--or back to shore? I wondered. I could not protect it, could not shield it from the flowing violence. That would deny it the destiny that sang in every curve of its streamlined body.

The sea-baby's flippers caught the surging fluid for the first time. Without pausing, it pushed forward into the wateriness which tossed it about even as it determinedly struggled in farther. Quickly it moved out to sea. I caught a few brief glimpses. It would disappear in the roiling liquid then appear again momentarily, farther out. Then it was gone. Somewhere not far ahead of me, I knew, it was swimming with exhilarated strokes in ever-calmer, sheltering depths, to its future life.

The innocent bravery and genetic wisdom of the baby sea turtle that I encountered on the beach that day have inspired me. Tiny beyond measure and fragile in comparison with the enormous, heaving sea, still it knew its place and without hesitation entrusted itself to the vastness of its great, watery mother.

Through that encounter I have been born into the fraternity of the sea turtle. With saurian wisdom I know that I can accept my destiny and, with supreme trust, embark into the great sea of the unknown. As I ride the currents of life into mysterious and threatening domains, I will take heart from the cheerful inspiration of the young sea turtle on the beach that day so many years ago.