Looking into the Eye - Irish Daily Mail Article

first published in ‘You’ Magazine, The Irish Daily Mail, Jan 2014

Now!

With that one word, we slipped quietly off the side of the small zodiac speedboat and into the freezing arctic waters below. It was late 2007, when, shattered and exhausted from what had become a stressful life, I’d taken a short holiday to travel to the Norwegian fjords in search of wild killer whales.

As I slipped into the water, I was filled with nervous excitement and anticipation, which thankfully distracted me from the extreme cold that I could feel even through my dry-suit and five layers of clothing. I could see the tall, black dorsal fins of the three approaching killer whales rising momentarily, then gliding back down beneath the choppy, dark water. I put my head down, and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark green, murky water below. It was blissfully quiet and peaceful, all I could hear was my own breathing and the sound of water trickling around me.

“As the whale and I looked at each other an instant calmness washed over me, and I knew I was meant to be there. It was as if everywhere I’d ever been, everything I’d ever done, everything I’d ever seen had led me to this moment, this connection with another being, this communion of spirits.”

A couple of minutes later, a huge killer whale began to swim towards me. As she came closer, I began to be able to make out her features – the large white markings along the bulk of her body, the scratches on her shiny, black skin. For a moment she opened her mouth ever so slightly, and I could just about make out her puffy pink tongue behind a row of sharp white teeth. But I wasn’t scared; I was only afraid that she might swim away if I stirred so much as an inch. I watched spellbound as she swam closer and closer. Then, when she was directly below, less than a metre away, she seemed to stop almost momentarily, and look directly at me.

As the whale and I looked at each other an instant calmness washed over me, and I knew I was meant to be there. It was as if everywhere I’d ever been, everything I’d ever done, everything I’d ever seen had led me to this moment, this connection with another being, this communion of spirits. I looked into the eye of that whale, and she stared back at me so intensely that I felt she was trying to tell me something. But what? I felt so limited by my human intelligence. I wanted to reach out to her, but not physically – my arms stayed spread out on the surface of the water; I just wanted to understand, to be able to communicate with this creature that filled me with such awe and joy. To this day, I cannot write, talk, even think about that moment without getting overcome by a wave of emotion.

Within a matter of seconds and with a flick of her tail she was gone, swimming back down into the deep. It was like coming out of a trance, I slowly became aware again of where I was. I popped my head back above water, and was almost surprised to hear a human voice - our boat’s driver calling out to me and the small group of people in the water. Back on board, we continued to watch the whales swim nearby for another half hour or so. I watched silently as they rose majestically above the surface, blew a tall, sharp spout of water into the darkening sky, before gliding back down into the water below. I was entranced, utterly bewitched by their beauty, and I felt almost bereft when the whales finally left us to swim away into the distance. We had been in the bay with the whales for less than an hour, I had been in the water with these beautiful animals for just a few short minutes. It was no more than a very brief moment in time, but it was without doubt, one of the most important moments of my life.

After my trip to Norway, I returned to my life, my work… but I was changed. My friends, family and colleagues all spotted it; I felt it myself, but I couldn’t explain it. I had to try to work out what it was about the encounter in Norway that had affected me so much. So I gave up my permanent, pensionable job and spent six months travelling, reading every book and watching every movie and documentary about whales that I could find. My interest in these animals grew; I volunteered on a whale research and conservation project in South Africa, and I became Greenpeace’s International Fundraiser of the Year when I raised funds for their campaign to end whaling in Antarctica.

It was during that time that I heard the line spoken in a movie: “When you look into the eye of a whale, you look through the window of your own soul.” And that’s when I realised what had happened to me in Norway - for the first time perhaps in years, I felt myself again, back to the real me. I’d somehow been catapulted back on track, the stresses of life had melted away, and I felt completely alive again. I’d been fortunate enough to have experienced a moment of pure, true presence in Norway, a moment that infused me with so much energy and renewed passion for life, that I have never looked back since.

‘Look into the Eye’, Poolbeg Press, €9.99. Touching, funny and eloquent, Jennifer Barrett’s debut novel tells the story of two strong-willed characters whose lives are changed after their magical encounters with wild whales in Norway and the Pacific Ocean. The author is donating half of her royalties to organisations dedicated to the protection and conservation of whales in the wild, and to youth mental health charities in Ireland.

January 2014

‘You’ Magazine Article by Jenni Barrett