Split screen—devastated coral reef on left; vital coral reef on right

Songs of a Coral Reef

Around the world, marine biologists are doing awe-inspiring work to restore precious coral reefs through sound.

Sound is an indicator of vitality and essential for coral reef survival. A recording of healthy reef sounds played over compromised reefs in Australia, for example, doubled the fish population.

When an Indonesian reef was destroyed by a fishing practice using explosives, scientists replenished the underwater treasure—bringing back the coral larvae.

Watch and listen to this amazing transformation (1 min):

How cool is that?  

Ecoacoustics can monitor and revitalize marine ecosystems through broadcasting healthy sounds. [Read more on the Caribbean revitalization in the Royal Society Open Science journal.]

What can we learn from these songs of the deep?

Perhaps we ask ourselves, what part of my world, deep inside, needs healing or replenishing?

And as a way to revitalize, we find the music that brings that depleted part back to life.

Think of it as creating a playlist for personal thriving. Soothing sounds from nature, favorite love songs, or original compositions (improvised and otherwise) might reach into that deep, deserted place.

So might the simple sound of our own heartbeat.

Ecoacoustics teaches us how, just like sound’s regenerating impact on life-giving oceans, we can be renewed.

That is living as music.

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If you’d like help to replenish your world, take a look at this.

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The Unseen Positive

At my first Minnesota Astronomical Society (MAS) online meeting, I found the request to join without video or sound suitably funny.  Wow, I thought, these guys really do crave darkness! 

Of course, it’s what they discover in the darkness that makes stargazing so engaging.  During the call, I learned where and when to look for the “Golden Handle” on the moon.  The Bay of Rainbows (Sinus Iridum) is a lava-flooded impact basin measuring 162 miles wide and ringed by the Jura Mountains.  When the mountains are illuminated just so, they appear as a bright arc in front of the still darkened bay.

This play of light effect is nicknamed the “Golden Handle,“ and it’s visible once a month, four days before a full moon. Look closely at the photo above and you’ll see a curved feature at the top right, jutting up along the line between light and dark. 

As astrophotographers in the group talked technology and equipment, my mind drifted back to a conversation with a friend over the weekend.  She’d remarked on the common usage of the term “unseen negative.” Then she asked, what about the “unseen positive“?

I began to wonder what hidden forces are at work even now to assist us in our personal missions on earth and to guide us to the best possible future.  We’re in a time of fear, change, and uncertainty.  Is it possible to see what’s right in front of us, working for our benefit?  Or, at the least, trust the unfoldment of an unseen positive?

So much is unseen.  When we face life’s challenges, we can feel like we’re in the dark.  It’s easy to be fearful of an imagined negative outcome.  Pretending to not feel fear is simply a spiritual bypass.  We may want to get around the vulnerability of human emotions, but they will be stored somewhere in the psyche, or the body, if denied.  

So, what about looking more deeply into this metaphorical night sky to gain perspective and awe?  Astronomers know how to do this in a literal sense.  They share the excitement of sightings and photos because their world is a wide-open view to points of light, or heavenly bodies, within the darkness.

If we open the aperture of our heart, though, I’ll bet we can discover the unseen positive. How often have we witnessed surprising support from Life itself simply because we were looking more closely, calmly or widely, with an eye for beauty and grace?

Calm presence embraces fear and beauty, both.  It’s a divine paradox. 

I hope to catch sight of the Bay of Rainbows and the Golden Handle at the end of this month.  The sky, moon, bay and mountains already exist as an unseen, awaiting my astronomy binoculars.  I may feel like I’ve come upon a miracle when I experience it personally. And I may be even further inspired by the vast darkness beyond.

Photo by Peter Lowenstein

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