I simply love your writing Chloe. Since losing my twin sister aged thirty to Hodgkins Lymphoma, death has held no fear for me, it holds instead a frisson of excitement, for our inevitable reunion.
Eleanor, my goodness, thank you so much for your comment. Bless your sister, bless you and the grief you must have had to traverse at her Death, and bless you for sharing that you're left holding "a frisson of excitement" (I felt it in my own body as I read your words!) at your inevitable reunion. It does my heart so well to hear that. I can't thank you enough ♥️
Gorgeous Chloe. Such powerful images, the bird brothers and the two of you holding each other in St P. Enjoyed David’s piece a lot too. It made the hairs on the back of my neck raise: darkness induces powerful claustrophobia in me. Thank you for this.
Jill, thank you for reading, and bless you for daring to listen to David's piece given your claustrophobia! I hope it wasn't too disturbing. I was very happy for David to take on the challenge, but it's not for me, personally. I don't think my psyche would handle it too successfully...
Dearest Chloe, I adored this story on my first reading, and love it even more completely with this second. And I am so very touched and grateful that you added your voice to your words... I love being read to, love being told a story. What a gift this is. And is that image of The Meeting Place a new addition? Perhaps so, perhaps I missed it the first time. Either way, it is such a lovely visual anchor for the reunion part of your story. And what a treat to be allowed a glimpse of Norman and Simon, together. I am your devoted and grateful fan.
Dear David, I am honoured by your listening. I’ve told myself that I will (one day) get around to recording all my posts, as it is so nice to have the choice. The Meeting Place was in from the start! But it is one of those pieces that has that way about it, I’d been to the station so many times before I really registered it. Sometimes I shudder to think of all the beauty I’ve missed for rushing and ruminating. But I’m also beyond grateful to be in the process of developing a more noticing eye; something which your work consistently provokes and inspires, and for which I am forever grateful.
My first Sparrow handed to me after being found in a grid at maybe age 8 or 9, people always brought me animals (good old days) resulted in my first trip to a Vet who accidentally killed my fragile friend. I remember it very clearly saying no as the knowing adult decided to lance a small access by the tiny bird's throat then it keeled over and died.
Death to those who have worked at the Vets is a bit different I suppose.
But I love the dark, enjoy seeing those faces and images run through my mind.
I have never actually felt uncomfortable in my own body always ponder a lot when others say that, perhaps that's coz I had dance training and a lot of that is about being present in your whole body.
Reunions with any old friends are good, like we leave a group of good friends knowing we hope to see them again sometime but no more than that.
Lovely to hear of you Chloe and David nurturing our little birdies and loving the dark Thank you ❤️ 🐦
Oh, bless your little Sparrow, Joanne. I'm so sorry. Those experiences as children are so indelible. That's an interesting thought, about Death & Vets relationship to it... I certainly don't envy them, I'll say that. It's not a job I could do.
It's lovely to hear that you have such a comfortable relationship with the dark, and your body! I'm sure dance is a powerful way to demand presence in the physical...
Friend reunions are a special one. A few of my dearest friends are dotted around the world, and so being reunited with them is a very particular kind of joy...
It's odd that I had no choice really had to get a job and Trainee Vet Nurse was open. I suppose I learned a lot but not keen for a reunion with it. I hear Sparrow populations are on the rise againin the UK there is hope 🙏 My last big bird grief was a Swan and I already know if one finds its way into my arms again I will not make the same choices. Had some luck with a pigeon found KO'd on the side of the road though. So far no birds this year, one of my dogs died about 4wks ago it's all just a blur.
It’s funny how we can just fall into things, sometimes... Yes, thankfully the Sparrows are making a comeback! 🎉 I’m sorry about the Swan, they’re magnificent animals and very hard not to fall in love with, I find. Congratulations on your Pigeon success, they’re such characters, too...
I’m so sorry to hear about your dog, Joanne. Sending love to you in your grief.
Thank you Chloe, did I tell you my tri coloured cavalier was called Chloe 1987-99 so just seeing your name makes me think a friend has come back to me ❤️ I rescued some peacocks who were being kept in the dark to pretect them from foxes they were pulling feathers out and totally miserable I argued to the council that they would rather take their chances with a fox than live permanently in the dark. It was luck I spied them through a mesh window at a petting zoo. I love the light too 🌞
No, you hadn't told me about Chloe, bless her. Cavaliers are such sweethearts, I'm happy to be a reminder 🐾 And, wow, thank goodness you saw, and were able to rescue, those peacocks. It sounds like they were losing their minds, bless them.
I think the ideal scenario is to have a healthy relationship with the light and the dark! Internally, and externally ♥️
I just came on here to leave another comment on David's recollection of the Dark retreat for you both now I guess. I wondered how much of the light whole spectrum was revealed to David and yourself as a partner in the experience. We have no choice but to cast a shadow in life to reveal the dark is there, some light deflected, some absorbed, some passes right on through. 🐕 🐈 🐎 🐦 🌟
I needed to hear this today. I’ve been in physical pain for a couple of days. Your words, and the way you deliver them are like a healing salve. Thank you you. 🙏
Ben, thank you so much your kind words. I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with pain, it takes so much out of you. We’re both sending thoughts of healing in your direction ❤️
As always, I loved this! I nearly cried with happiness myself at your story of Norman and Simon, as well as your reunion with David. And I loved the way you framed Death as a reunion. I've always believed it will be a reunion with those gone before, but I haven't given it quite as much thought the way you said, as a "reunion with the great, oceanic question mark from which we momentarily crest—or, simply, a reunion of the elements out of which we are made with the planet, and the cosmos, from where those elements came."
The reunion that first came to mind for me was with my boy. He's four now, but when he was almost 9 months old, he had a serious medical emergency. A rhinovirus took hold and in the span of 24 hours he went from having a runny nose to being life flighted from a small town hospital to a children's hospital better equipped to save him. Before we boarded the plane, they intubated and sedated him. There was a truly terrifying point where I could see on the doctor's faces that they weren't sure he was going to pull through. For several days, he was unconscious. He fought the sedation so much, they had to jerry rig a restraint by tucking his arms under a blanket. It's funny now, because that is so like him. Contrary and persistent. Anyway, finally they decided to end the sedation. It was more dangerous to keep him under than wake him up at that point, the little rascal. When he woke up and I was finally able to hold him again...that was a reunion I'll never forget. There were still several days in the hospital to endure, but soon his Daddy was able to pick us up to take us home, and that was another beautiful reunion. And then, at home, with his brothers...goodness.
My thoughts have been lingering often on the idea of connection, union. How that forms, how it can be broken, and when reunion is possible. When it isn't. What it might take to make it possible. Thank you so much for your post. I'm excited to read about David's dark retreat!
Hannah, thank you for sharing your story of reunion with your sweet boy, and of you both with his father, and siblings...I can only imagine. I'm so glad he's well, now, and continues to be contrary and persistent :)
I think that connection, union, disconnection, and reunion, all speak to the fluid and ever changing nature of reality. Unavoidable, unpredictable, and so, uncomfortable. I wonder if our work, partially, is in easing ourselves into that space of unknowing, and seeing if we might sit there long enough to become comfortable there.
As always, thank you for sharing, Hannah, it's good to have you here.
I’m going to read/listen to David’s experience, but before I do, I just wanted to tell you, Chloe, that I enjoyed listening to your recording. I’m still having to find time to do my own recording for my most recent post, but I sincerely enjoyed reading and then listening to you talk💞
Your story of re:union made me think of my two cats. I brought them both inside in Jan of this year, one at a time. Before I brought them in, though, they hadn’t really been apart. Born littermates (I’m 99.99% positive of this), I noticed them running around the apartment complex I live in. The area is known to be friendly to strays, and there are plenty of cats running around.
Long story short, Nalia befriended me and decided I was her human, while Salem gradually accepted me. After months of building up trust, I brought Nalia inside permantely first. She was okay for a day, but I could tell that she deeply missed her sister. Salem came in two days later, and she wasn’t happy about being inside at first. It took about two weeks, but I got her to finally accept being indoors. Nalia was happy that she had her sister inside with her, while also letting me know that she was happy to have adopted me.
The three of us suffered a loss of kittens (Salem’s), and she found solace in Nalia, and after I had to keep them apart while they both recovered from being spayed, they were both very happy to be back together, even though they were both in the same house, but seperated via a crate one at a time. Except for seperate carriers that they were in when I used to take them on car rides together, they haven’t been seperated since. That’s a story that I already have typed out in more detail, and will eventually release as an article...someday, when the pain that’s faded some has faded some more.
Thank you for writing this post and making a voiceover💜
Kimber, thank you both for reading and listening! I'm so glad you enjoyed.
Bless your sweet cats, and their own, individual styles of coming to chose you as theres. They sound very lucky to have found you, and to be able to spend their lives together as siblings!
I'm looking forward to reading your recent post, and to learning more about them.
Thank you again, Kimber. Sending you, Nalia and Salem my love 💜
Lovely read Chloe and I’m so glad Norman and Simon are reunited! So much to digest in your offerings, and the black retreat, wowsers, that sounds hectic. Reunion is a major theme threading through just about everything in my life and work now - reunion with self, each other and the other than human world including death. Healing the wounds and the illusion of our separation. Big love to you and thanks again for your beautiful story telling and wisdom. X
Healing the illusion of our separation, hearing you there. As always, thank you for bringing your voice to this space. Sending you biggest love, now and throughout all your reunions ♥️
Overjoyed at Simon & Norman's reunion, Chloe! And overawed by David's dark retreat - I remember reading about it awhile back, seeing pictures. Good heavens. I hope he had some experience with sensory deprivation tanks first? Some people become unhinged.
Defeat. Why am I triggered by gravel-voiced men? I couldn't listen to it, but I read it, and award-disdaining me loves it. :)
Truly, me too. I keep reliving the relief of them being back together...
And David had zero experience! He just threw himself in at the deep end (as he is sometimes prone to do). I can absolutely see how some people become unhinged, DF is very well resourced, mentally, but he knew when it got to a point where it was time to leave or risk some damage...
I'm so sorry the recording was by a stupid gravelly-voiced man! I was so close to just including the poem & reading it myself, but I was worried that I wouldn't do it justice. Glorious poem, though, isn't it? Speaking of award-disdain, do you know Nick Cave's letter to MTV? I imagine you do...
Ha! Thank you - gravelly-voiced men may excuse themselves from all voice recordings henceforth, no thank you! Had never heard of Nick Cave's letter before, and I love it. More of that, in place of the GVMs, yes please... 💛
I listened to this whilst communiting my way home from work and it was a joy and a delight to hear your voice speaking of Norman and Simon, realising at the same moment that David did as to what was about to happen. Amazing.
(And now I've just gone to reread several parts. Lovely writing as ever, Chloe. Such a flow of words.)
I'm also in awe of David's dark retreat. I'd like to try it, but I don't know if I could last that long. The whole thing fascinates me, though, especially the experience it may elicit.
"the great, oceanic question mark from which we momentarily crest" 😍
^this, as well as returning my borrowed atoms back to the cosmos, so they may be utilised for another.
Re: re:union (love that title, btw 😉). Your moment with David at St Pancras gave me such a smile and makes me think of me and Jo. Whenever we're apart for more than a day (which is rare), I'm always in this place of feeling incomplete until that moment we're together again. Hard to write it out, and not in some soppy sense, but just in a sense of being, well, incomplete.
Nathan, you are the very best. I absolutely love knowing that you listened (I can't always manage to make the time to do a voiceover, but I am trying), and I love knowing what you were doing while you were listening. It's so nice to have that image, and I so loved that you & David realised what was happening at the same time ☺️
It's quite a commitment, the Dark. Six days is a lot for a first go. I might consider easing myself in, starting with 48 hours, at some point...
I'm so glad you liked that line! I said it to David so many times, asking if it made sense grammatically, that it lost all meaning 😁 I love the thought of our on-loan atoms being retuned, like there's a cosmic library of them, and we're all just borrowing them for a set time...
I liked the title, too, so thank you for sharing that 😊 and for sharing your sense of incompletion when you & Jo are apart. I know the feeling well, and am most grateful for it 💗
This was fantastic! The story of Norman and Simon’s reunion was so cute!
And I had never heard of a dark retreat before - it is such an interesting concept. Also the way you tied all of this together and illuminated how even death is a reunion of sorts, was brilliant.
You are too kind Chloe - I’m touched to hear you admire my writing. I admire yours as well - I find it so laden with feeling in the best way possible.
Yes, I was gonna say, David is braver than I. While I find the dark room treat really interesting, I’m not sure how I’d handle it when the lights actually went out.
A reunion story. This is la bit long, I'm going to dare to post it here. I hope you will enjoy it, Chloe. I am so grateful for this vivid remembrance, to have it so active in me again.
Thank you, Chloe, for your beautiful telling, inviting us to see and feel your stories of reunion, so beautifully woven together.
You ask of our experience of reunion and many images came to mind. This morning as I woke up to the day, one rather unusual and intensely joyful reunion came to mind.
I lived on a beach in the Bahamas for many years and enjoyed almost daily encounters with dolphin. Most often when I was alone at night, resting in a hammock at the end of the long dock, the dolphins would come, I always felt to comfort me. I would hear them blowing as they approached, and they would lift themselves just a bit out of the sea to look right at me as I gazed over the edge of the dock. They would splash and play for a bit, as if reminding me that all is well, before they disappeared into the dark sea, creating a trail of sparkling luminescence behind them.
They showed up if we had a special party on the beach, a wedding perhaps, came right in to the beach, about five of them, they seem to love celebrations.
When all of my kids and I had a moonlight skinny dip and played games in the sparkling sea, the dolphins would come, drawn by the laughter and the joy of our gathering.
I became an activist on their behalf, successfully initiating the creation of legislation against capture of all marine mammals throughout the vast waters of the Bahamas. I had come to know them so well in the wild and to feel deeply how wrong it is to capture them and hold them in any enclosure of any sort. My ire rises slightly even now to write this so many decades later.
In the 1970s I met an unusual man along the way, Dr. John Lily, already famous for his work with dolphins. He had sound reel after sound reel of dolphins speaking to each other and was interpreting their language, attempting to speak back to them. John had three doctoral degrees and a deep level of intuition, all of which was soon to come into question for me.
John Lily had taken over an old bank building in Coconut Grove, a village like suburb of Miami in Florida, where he was doing research on ‘his’ dolphins. (I reacted instantly. They are not ‘his’.) When I visited him there, he took me down where the bank vault had been and there John had created a swimming pool where he was keeping ‘his’ two dolphins. In murky water, not a drop of sunlight. I was appalled. And, if that was not bad enough, he was experimenting on them with LSD.
Each time I visited Notchy, with the notable notch in his dorsal fin, and his lovely pal Daisy, they came immediately to the edge of the pool and rose up out of the water to look right at me. “I always know when you are coming,” John told me, “they come to the pool window to wait for you.” I got in and swam with them, happy to be their playmate for these few moments, arcing in and out of the water with them.
I said, “You know you have to let them go.”
Lily said, “I knew when we met you were going to do this to me.”
I said, “Well then, you were right.”
I called him again and again, saying that he must release them, they could not live like this, captive in a dark, sunless, sea less space. It was cruel and he was too smart to not know that. He finally sighed, “Alright. I know you are right.”
He released Notchy and Daisy on a sparkling sunny day from Key Biscayne, my young son Scot was with them. They called me over in the islands that morning, Scottie was especially excited. “Mom! They jumped high out of the water again and again, looking right at us. They were saying goodbye. They were so happy, Mom!” And so it was done.
Our fervent hope was that they would survive in the wild after being captive, a chance I thought we had to take, a better option than keeping them captive a moment longer.
Two hundred miles south of Key Biscayne, Florida lies my island of Andros in the Bahamas.
It is called The Sleeping Giant. Only the eastern coast is habitable, with splendid beaches, small villages, a shimmering aqua lagoon facing the third largest barrier reef in the world. Primal wilderness, both out past the reef with a depth of 6000 feet, and facing westward across the island to the far side of Andros. 50 miles of harsh coral rock with deep holes holding blue green algae which breathes out oxygen, making earth habitable for man. There are no roads for these 50 miles to the western coast where the aqua shallow sea reaches to the horizon and wraps up into the sky. It takes a full day to go by boat through the island, through a labyrinth of waterways. In old times sponge fishermen went there in their sailing sloops, the sponges now ‘gone long time’, as we say on the island.
We landed our small plane on the hard baked mud so we could explore what we call 'the west side'. It was so silent as we stepped out of the plane, we could hear the rustle of the herons’ wings as they flew right over us, as if challenging our presence in this place.
I walked first to the mouth of the river winding inland from the intense aqua shallow sea. I was startled to see a fin heading into this river passage. “Is this a shark moving into the river?” I puzzled. I stepped into the white sand mud at the edge of the river, to watch. The fin divided into two fins. And it seemed now that they were slowly heading directly towards me. I stood as still as a heron. As the fins slowly came closer I saw the notch in the dorsal fin. Yes! Yes!! It was Notchy, and Daisy! I recognized them now, as they had recognized me when they changed their course to swim towards me. I moved deeper into the water, slipped quietly in lowering myself up to my chest.
When they were right next to me they both surfaced, their eyes above water level, and yes, they looked me straight in the eyes. We saw each other. We knew each other. This moment of absolute recognition created a vibration, a thrill through my entire being. An ecstasy. A belonging.
To this wild place and to these wild beings. To this reunion. To this union.
Notchy and Daisy rested against me, embracing me with their bodies. Here in this untouched wild primal space with not another soul within 50 miles, we had found each other again.
Rosi, what an extraordinary story of reunion—of so many reunions! Thank you. I wonder if you’ve considered writing a Substack? Stories like these would fascinate people. It reminded me a little of Lawrence Anthony’s work in befriending, and saving the lives of, herds of elephants (he was known as the Elephant Whisperer) in South Africa. When he died decades later, these herds of elephants walked miles, for half a day, to stand in silent vigil at his home. They stayed, in silence, for two days before leaving. Dolphins and elephants seem similar in their extraordinary extra-sensory abilities, and vastly heightened emotional intelligence (making the kinds of ‘experiments’ conducted on them all the more abhorrent).
I’m so glad you took the time to read my dolphin reunion story, Chloe. Thank you. It was your story that inspired this memory from 50 years ago. Like Norman and Simon, Notchy and Daisy had lost their family ‘pod’ as it is called in the dolphin universe. I wish I could more clearly describe for you the 200 miles of ocean wilderness they wandered across to get to my island, open ocean with various currents transversing it. I have never dared to think that they were looking for me, but the fact is, against all odds, we found each other. I would like to believe that they needed as much to tell me they were alright as I needed to know they were alright. Like you releasing your lovely birds and feeling the responsibility for it, the release of Notchy and Daisy was entirely my responsibility. After our encounter on that wild white mud river bank, I wept with gratitude and relief. We were 3 people in our small plane that day, I was the only one who experienced ‘my’ magical now wild again dolphins.
Thank you so so much for listening, Chloe, there is something about being heard that in some way secures my magical experience. Perhaps that is the entire compelling factor behind substack. Telling our magic and our pain and being heard and held in that hearing.
Chloe, you have the biggest, kindest, most compassionate heart. Norman and Simon were lucky to be united through you. They look so happy.
You are the very kindest, Nadia. Thank you for your sweet words, they mean a lot. It’s so good to have you back 💗
Happy to be back here :).
I simply love your writing Chloe. Since losing my twin sister aged thirty to Hodgkins Lymphoma, death has held no fear for me, it holds instead a frisson of excitement, for our inevitable reunion.
Eleanor, my goodness, thank you so much for your comment. Bless your sister, bless you and the grief you must have had to traverse at her Death, and bless you for sharing that you're left holding "a frisson of excitement" (I felt it in my own body as I read your words!) at your inevitable reunion. It does my heart so well to hear that. I can't thank you enough ♥️
Gorgeous Chloe. Such powerful images, the bird brothers and the two of you holding each other in St P. Enjoyed David’s piece a lot too. It made the hairs on the back of my neck raise: darkness induces powerful claustrophobia in me. Thank you for this.
Jill, thank you for reading, and bless you for daring to listen to David's piece given your claustrophobia! I hope it wasn't too disturbing. I was very happy for David to take on the challenge, but it's not for me, personally. I don't think my psyche would handle it too successfully...
Nor mine ❤️
Dearest Chloe, I adored this story on my first reading, and love it even more completely with this second. And I am so very touched and grateful that you added your voice to your words... I love being read to, love being told a story. What a gift this is. And is that image of The Meeting Place a new addition? Perhaps so, perhaps I missed it the first time. Either way, it is such a lovely visual anchor for the reunion part of your story. And what a treat to be allowed a glimpse of Norman and Simon, together. I am your devoted and grateful fan.
Dear David, I am honoured by your listening. I’ve told myself that I will (one day) get around to recording all my posts, as it is so nice to have the choice. The Meeting Place was in from the start! But it is one of those pieces that has that way about it, I’d been to the station so many times before I really registered it. Sometimes I shudder to think of all the beauty I’ve missed for rushing and ruminating. But I’m also beyond grateful to be in the process of developing a more noticing eye; something which your work consistently provokes and inspires, and for which I am forever grateful.
My first Sparrow handed to me after being found in a grid at maybe age 8 or 9, people always brought me animals (good old days) resulted in my first trip to a Vet who accidentally killed my fragile friend. I remember it very clearly saying no as the knowing adult decided to lance a small access by the tiny bird's throat then it keeled over and died.
Death to those who have worked at the Vets is a bit different I suppose.
But I love the dark, enjoy seeing those faces and images run through my mind.
I have never actually felt uncomfortable in my own body always ponder a lot when others say that, perhaps that's coz I had dance training and a lot of that is about being present in your whole body.
Reunions with any old friends are good, like we leave a group of good friends knowing we hope to see them again sometime but no more than that.
Lovely to hear of you Chloe and David nurturing our little birdies and loving the dark Thank you ❤️ 🐦
Oh, bless your little Sparrow, Joanne. I'm so sorry. Those experiences as children are so indelible. That's an interesting thought, about Death & Vets relationship to it... I certainly don't envy them, I'll say that. It's not a job I could do.
It's lovely to hear that you have such a comfortable relationship with the dark, and your body! I'm sure dance is a powerful way to demand presence in the physical...
Friend reunions are a special one. A few of my dearest friends are dotted around the world, and so being reunited with them is a very particular kind of joy...
Thank you, Joanne ♥️🪶
It's odd that I had no choice really had to get a job and Trainee Vet Nurse was open. I suppose I learned a lot but not keen for a reunion with it. I hear Sparrow populations are on the rise againin the UK there is hope 🙏 My last big bird grief was a Swan and I already know if one finds its way into my arms again I will not make the same choices. Had some luck with a pigeon found KO'd on the side of the road though. So far no birds this year, one of my dogs died about 4wks ago it's all just a blur.
It’s funny how we can just fall into things, sometimes... Yes, thankfully the Sparrows are making a comeback! 🎉 I’m sorry about the Swan, they’re magnificent animals and very hard not to fall in love with, I find. Congratulations on your Pigeon success, they’re such characters, too...
I’m so sorry to hear about your dog, Joanne. Sending love to you in your grief.
Thank you Chloe, did I tell you my tri coloured cavalier was called Chloe 1987-99 so just seeing your name makes me think a friend has come back to me ❤️ I rescued some peacocks who were being kept in the dark to pretect them from foxes they were pulling feathers out and totally miserable I argued to the council that they would rather take their chances with a fox than live permanently in the dark. It was luck I spied them through a mesh window at a petting zoo. I love the light too 🌞
No, you hadn't told me about Chloe, bless her. Cavaliers are such sweethearts, I'm happy to be a reminder 🐾 And, wow, thank goodness you saw, and were able to rescue, those peacocks. It sounds like they were losing their minds, bless them.
I think the ideal scenario is to have a healthy relationship with the light and the dark! Internally, and externally ♥️
I just came on here to leave another comment on David's recollection of the Dark retreat for you both now I guess. I wondered how much of the light whole spectrum was revealed to David and yourself as a partner in the experience. We have no choice but to cast a shadow in life to reveal the dark is there, some light deflected, some absorbed, some passes right on through. 🐕 🐈 🐎 🐦 🌟
I needed to hear this today. I’ve been in physical pain for a couple of days. Your words, and the way you deliver them are like a healing salve. Thank you you. 🙏
Ben, thank you so much your kind words. I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with pain, it takes so much out of you. We’re both sending thoughts of healing in your direction ❤️
As always, I loved this! I nearly cried with happiness myself at your story of Norman and Simon, as well as your reunion with David. And I loved the way you framed Death as a reunion. I've always believed it will be a reunion with those gone before, but I haven't given it quite as much thought the way you said, as a "reunion with the great, oceanic question mark from which we momentarily crest—or, simply, a reunion of the elements out of which we are made with the planet, and the cosmos, from where those elements came."
The reunion that first came to mind for me was with my boy. He's four now, but when he was almost 9 months old, he had a serious medical emergency. A rhinovirus took hold and in the span of 24 hours he went from having a runny nose to being life flighted from a small town hospital to a children's hospital better equipped to save him. Before we boarded the plane, they intubated and sedated him. There was a truly terrifying point where I could see on the doctor's faces that they weren't sure he was going to pull through. For several days, he was unconscious. He fought the sedation so much, they had to jerry rig a restraint by tucking his arms under a blanket. It's funny now, because that is so like him. Contrary and persistent. Anyway, finally they decided to end the sedation. It was more dangerous to keep him under than wake him up at that point, the little rascal. When he woke up and I was finally able to hold him again...that was a reunion I'll never forget. There were still several days in the hospital to endure, but soon his Daddy was able to pick us up to take us home, and that was another beautiful reunion. And then, at home, with his brothers...goodness.
My thoughts have been lingering often on the idea of connection, union. How that forms, how it can be broken, and when reunion is possible. When it isn't. What it might take to make it possible. Thank you so much for your post. I'm excited to read about David's dark retreat!
Hannah, thank you for sharing your story of reunion with your sweet boy, and of you both with his father, and siblings...I can only imagine. I'm so glad he's well, now, and continues to be contrary and persistent :)
I think that connection, union, disconnection, and reunion, all speak to the fluid and ever changing nature of reality. Unavoidable, unpredictable, and so, uncomfortable. I wonder if our work, partially, is in easing ourselves into that space of unknowing, and seeing if we might sit there long enough to become comfortable there.
As always, thank you for sharing, Hannah, it's good to have you here.
I’m going to read/listen to David’s experience, but before I do, I just wanted to tell you, Chloe, that I enjoyed listening to your recording. I’m still having to find time to do my own recording for my most recent post, but I sincerely enjoyed reading and then listening to you talk💞
Your story of re:union made me think of my two cats. I brought them both inside in Jan of this year, one at a time. Before I brought them in, though, they hadn’t really been apart. Born littermates (I’m 99.99% positive of this), I noticed them running around the apartment complex I live in. The area is known to be friendly to strays, and there are plenty of cats running around.
Long story short, Nalia befriended me and decided I was her human, while Salem gradually accepted me. After months of building up trust, I brought Nalia inside permantely first. She was okay for a day, but I could tell that she deeply missed her sister. Salem came in two days later, and she wasn’t happy about being inside at first. It took about two weeks, but I got her to finally accept being indoors. Nalia was happy that she had her sister inside with her, while also letting me know that she was happy to have adopted me.
The three of us suffered a loss of kittens (Salem’s), and she found solace in Nalia, and after I had to keep them apart while they both recovered from being spayed, they were both very happy to be back together, even though they were both in the same house, but seperated via a crate one at a time. Except for seperate carriers that they were in when I used to take them on car rides together, they haven’t been seperated since. That’s a story that I already have typed out in more detail, and will eventually release as an article...someday, when the pain that’s faded some has faded some more.
Thank you for writing this post and making a voiceover💜
Kimber, thank you both for reading and listening! I'm so glad you enjoyed.
Bless your sweet cats, and their own, individual styles of coming to chose you as theres. They sound very lucky to have found you, and to be able to spend their lives together as siblings!
I'm looking forward to reading your recent post, and to learning more about them.
Thank you again, Kimber. Sending you, Nalia and Salem my love 💜
Lovely read Chloe and I’m so glad Norman and Simon are reunited! So much to digest in your offerings, and the black retreat, wowsers, that sounds hectic. Reunion is a major theme threading through just about everything in my life and work now - reunion with self, each other and the other than human world including death. Healing the wounds and the illusion of our separation. Big love to you and thanks again for your beautiful story telling and wisdom. X
Healing the illusion of our separation, hearing you there. As always, thank you for bringing your voice to this space. Sending you biggest love, now and throughout all your reunions ♥️
So beautiful ... I cried, twice ... thank you 💗
You're my sweet and tender hearted love ♥️
Overjoyed at Simon & Norman's reunion, Chloe! And overawed by David's dark retreat - I remember reading about it awhile back, seeing pictures. Good heavens. I hope he had some experience with sensory deprivation tanks first? Some people become unhinged.
Defeat. Why am I triggered by gravel-voiced men? I couldn't listen to it, but I read it, and award-disdaining me loves it. :)
Truly, me too. I keep reliving the relief of them being back together...
And David had zero experience! He just threw himself in at the deep end (as he is sometimes prone to do). I can absolutely see how some people become unhinged, DF is very well resourced, mentally, but he knew when it got to a point where it was time to leave or risk some damage...
I'm so sorry the recording was by a stupid gravelly-voiced man! I was so close to just including the poem & reading it myself, but I was worried that I wouldn't do it justice. Glorious poem, though, isn't it? Speaking of award-disdain, do you know Nick Cave's letter to MTV? I imagine you do...
Ha! Thank you - gravelly-voiced men may excuse themselves from all voice recordings henceforth, no thank you! Had never heard of Nick Cave's letter before, and I love it. More of that, in place of the GVMs, yes please... 💛
Duly noted 💜
I listened to this whilst communiting my way home from work and it was a joy and a delight to hear your voice speaking of Norman and Simon, realising at the same moment that David did as to what was about to happen. Amazing.
(And now I've just gone to reread several parts. Lovely writing as ever, Chloe. Such a flow of words.)
I'm also in awe of David's dark retreat. I'd like to try it, but I don't know if I could last that long. The whole thing fascinates me, though, especially the experience it may elicit.
"the great, oceanic question mark from which we momentarily crest" 😍
^this, as well as returning my borrowed atoms back to the cosmos, so they may be utilised for another.
Re: re:union (love that title, btw 😉). Your moment with David at St Pancras gave me such a smile and makes me think of me and Jo. Whenever we're apart for more than a day (which is rare), I'm always in this place of feeling incomplete until that moment we're together again. Hard to write it out, and not in some soppy sense, but just in a sense of being, well, incomplete.
Thanks for brightening a Monday, Chloe.
Nathan, you are the very best. I absolutely love knowing that you listened (I can't always manage to make the time to do a voiceover, but I am trying), and I love knowing what you were doing while you were listening. It's so nice to have that image, and I so loved that you & David realised what was happening at the same time ☺️
It's quite a commitment, the Dark. Six days is a lot for a first go. I might consider easing myself in, starting with 48 hours, at some point...
I'm so glad you liked that line! I said it to David so many times, asking if it made sense grammatically, that it lost all meaning 😁 I love the thought of our on-loan atoms being retuned, like there's a cosmic library of them, and we're all just borrowing them for a set time...
I liked the title, too, so thank you for sharing that 😊 and for sharing your sense of incompletion when you & Jo are apart. I know the feeling well, and am most grateful for it 💗
Thank you for brightening my Monday, Nathan!
This was fantastic! The story of Norman and Simon’s reunion was so cute!
And I had never heard of a dark retreat before - it is such an interesting concept. Also the way you tied all of this together and illuminated how even death is a reunion of sorts, was brilliant.
Great read Chloe.
Thank you so much, Michael. I really appreciate your comment - it always mean a lot when someone whose writing you admire compliments your own!
David's a Dark retreat convert, now. He's eager to do one again. I think I'd need a lifetimes worth of psychological preparation, personally!
As always, I really appreciate you reading, and sharing :)
You are too kind Chloe - I’m touched to hear you admire my writing. I admire yours as well - I find it so laden with feeling in the best way possible.
Yes, I was gonna say, David is braver than I. While I find the dark room treat really interesting, I’m not sure how I’d handle it when the lights actually went out.
Thanks Chloe.
Such powerful writing, I’m in awe!
Thank you, LRT. You're very kind 💗🪶
You’re welcome ☺️
just lovely...
Thanks so much, darren 🪶
A reunion story. This is la bit long, I'm going to dare to post it here. I hope you will enjoy it, Chloe. I am so grateful for this vivid remembrance, to have it so active in me again.
Thank you, Chloe, for your beautiful telling, inviting us to see and feel your stories of reunion, so beautifully woven together.
You ask of our experience of reunion and many images came to mind. This morning as I woke up to the day, one rather unusual and intensely joyful reunion came to mind.
I lived on a beach in the Bahamas for many years and enjoyed almost daily encounters with dolphin. Most often when I was alone at night, resting in a hammock at the end of the long dock, the dolphins would come, I always felt to comfort me. I would hear them blowing as they approached, and they would lift themselves just a bit out of the sea to look right at me as I gazed over the edge of the dock. They would splash and play for a bit, as if reminding me that all is well, before they disappeared into the dark sea, creating a trail of sparkling luminescence behind them.
They showed up if we had a special party on the beach, a wedding perhaps, came right in to the beach, about five of them, they seem to love celebrations.
When all of my kids and I had a moonlight skinny dip and played games in the sparkling sea, the dolphins would come, drawn by the laughter and the joy of our gathering.
I became an activist on their behalf, successfully initiating the creation of legislation against capture of all marine mammals throughout the vast waters of the Bahamas. I had come to know them so well in the wild and to feel deeply how wrong it is to capture them and hold them in any enclosure of any sort. My ire rises slightly even now to write this so many decades later.
In the 1970s I met an unusual man along the way, Dr. John Lily, already famous for his work with dolphins. He had sound reel after sound reel of dolphins speaking to each other and was interpreting their language, attempting to speak back to them. John had three doctoral degrees and a deep level of intuition, all of which was soon to come into question for me.
John Lily had taken over an old bank building in Coconut Grove, a village like suburb of Miami in Florida, where he was doing research on ‘his’ dolphins. (I reacted instantly. They are not ‘his’.) When I visited him there, he took me down where the bank vault had been and there John had created a swimming pool where he was keeping ‘his’ two dolphins. In murky water, not a drop of sunlight. I was appalled. And, if that was not bad enough, he was experimenting on them with LSD.
Each time I visited Notchy, with the notable notch in his dorsal fin, and his lovely pal Daisy, they came immediately to the edge of the pool and rose up out of the water to look right at me. “I always know when you are coming,” John told me, “they come to the pool window to wait for you.” I got in and swam with them, happy to be their playmate for these few moments, arcing in and out of the water with them.
I said, “You know you have to let them go.”
Lily said, “I knew when we met you were going to do this to me.”
I said, “Well then, you were right.”
I called him again and again, saying that he must release them, they could not live like this, captive in a dark, sunless, sea less space. It was cruel and he was too smart to not know that. He finally sighed, “Alright. I know you are right.”
He released Notchy and Daisy on a sparkling sunny day from Key Biscayne, my young son Scot was with them. They called me over in the islands that morning, Scottie was especially excited. “Mom! They jumped high out of the water again and again, looking right at us. They were saying goodbye. They were so happy, Mom!” And so it was done.
Our fervent hope was that they would survive in the wild after being captive, a chance I thought we had to take, a better option than keeping them captive a moment longer.
Two hundred miles south of Key Biscayne, Florida lies my island of Andros in the Bahamas.
It is called The Sleeping Giant. Only the eastern coast is habitable, with splendid beaches, small villages, a shimmering aqua lagoon facing the third largest barrier reef in the world. Primal wilderness, both out past the reef with a depth of 6000 feet, and facing westward across the island to the far side of Andros. 50 miles of harsh coral rock with deep holes holding blue green algae which breathes out oxygen, making earth habitable for man. There are no roads for these 50 miles to the western coast where the aqua shallow sea reaches to the horizon and wraps up into the sky. It takes a full day to go by boat through the island, through a labyrinth of waterways. In old times sponge fishermen went there in their sailing sloops, the sponges now ‘gone long time’, as we say on the island.
We landed our small plane on the hard baked mud so we could explore what we call 'the west side'. It was so silent as we stepped out of the plane, we could hear the rustle of the herons’ wings as they flew right over us, as if challenging our presence in this place.
I walked first to the mouth of the river winding inland from the intense aqua shallow sea. I was startled to see a fin heading into this river passage. “Is this a shark moving into the river?” I puzzled. I stepped into the white sand mud at the edge of the river, to watch. The fin divided into two fins. And it seemed now that they were slowly heading directly towards me. I stood as still as a heron. As the fins slowly came closer I saw the notch in the dorsal fin. Yes! Yes!! It was Notchy, and Daisy! I recognized them now, as they had recognized me when they changed their course to swim towards me. I moved deeper into the water, slipped quietly in lowering myself up to my chest.
When they were right next to me they both surfaced, their eyes above water level, and yes, they looked me straight in the eyes. We saw each other. We knew each other. This moment of absolute recognition created a vibration, a thrill through my entire being. An ecstasy. A belonging.
To this wild place and to these wild beings. To this reunion. To this union.
Notchy and Daisy rested against me, embracing me with their bodies. Here in this untouched wild primal space with not another soul within 50 miles, we had found each other again.
Rosi, what an extraordinary story of reunion—of so many reunions! Thank you. I wonder if you’ve considered writing a Substack? Stories like these would fascinate people. It reminded me a little of Lawrence Anthony’s work in befriending, and saving the lives of, herds of elephants (he was known as the Elephant Whisperer) in South Africa. When he died decades later, these herds of elephants walked miles, for half a day, to stand in silent vigil at his home. They stayed, in silence, for two days before leaving. Dolphins and elephants seem similar in their extraordinary extra-sensory abilities, and vastly heightened emotional intelligence (making the kinds of ‘experiments’ conducted on them all the more abhorrent).
I’m so glad you took the time to read my dolphin reunion story, Chloe. Thank you. It was your story that inspired this memory from 50 years ago. Like Norman and Simon, Notchy and Daisy had lost their family ‘pod’ as it is called in the dolphin universe. I wish I could more clearly describe for you the 200 miles of ocean wilderness they wandered across to get to my island, open ocean with various currents transversing it. I have never dared to think that they were looking for me, but the fact is, against all odds, we found each other. I would like to believe that they needed as much to tell me they were alright as I needed to know they were alright. Like you releasing your lovely birds and feeling the responsibility for it, the release of Notchy and Daisy was entirely my responsibility. After our encounter on that wild white mud river bank, I wept with gratitude and relief. We were 3 people in our small plane that day, I was the only one who experienced ‘my’ magical now wild again dolphins.
Thank you so so much for listening, Chloe, there is something about being heard that in some way secures my magical experience. Perhaps that is the entire compelling factor behind substack. Telling our magic and our pain and being heard and held in that hearing.