On the ferry from Swartz Bay to Tsawwassen, I began to understand.

As you may know, most of this ferry route takes you through a narrow channel flanked by beautiful green islands of all shapes and sizes. The view alone is enough to move you to tears. I mean, it’s enough to move me to tears.

So, as if the view alone weren’t enough, I was sitting at a little table by a window with two ten year old girls whom I had just met. They were playing cards, smiling brilliantly at me, and occasionally asking my opinion.

To my left, four adults were chattering away in Hebrew. Or, more accurately, one of them chattered continuously, while the other three looked out the window in silent awe.

Behind me, an elderly couple was walking the length of the ferry over and over again, arm in arm, one of them leaning on a cane. Their walk expressed a patient intimacy, so beautiful I wanted to cry. When they passed me for the seventh time, one of them turned to me and smiled a long beatific smile, as if to say, “Though we have never met, I recognize you as a person.”

At my right, a friendly six-year old girl standing by the window introduced herself to me. She explained her theory that the sun always seems to be shining on the same place in the water because of the rotation of the earth. Then she said, “What’s your name? Mine’s Espy. It’s short for Esperanza.” I said, “Esperanza. What a nice name. It means ‘hope’ in Spanish.” Then she said, “It also means ‘waiting’ and one other thing that I can’t remember. I’m going to a vending machine now. Nice to meet you!”

At this point, I thought I was going to flood the deck with tears.

Then I noticed that people were crowding around the windows at the front of the boat. My tablemates — my new ten-year-old friends — looked at me quizzically. I said, “It’s probably an animal. I’ll go see.” I went over to the window and asked a man with a camera, “What kind of animal is it?” He turned away from the window and gifted me with several precious moments of attention, moments that he could have spent watching the animal. Because he was a non-native English speaker, he paused and thought for a few long moments before he said, “Whale.”

The entire boat, all the human passengers that is, had arisen as one, and gathered on the east side of the boat to watch an orca play. And I was watching the humans: it was the most magnificent, wondrous thing to see everyone so moved, so united, so astonished, all drawn together by this animal.  For a few moments, we weren’t passengers on public transit. Instead we were seekers, having a shared mystical experience, our minds meeting over a shiny black orca fin. We were all in this together.

And now I really did cry.

To make emotional matters even more powerful: Before I was drawn into the Universal Mind by the orca, I was reading a book I found earlier that afternoon in a used bookstore in Sidney. The book is called Kinship with All Life and it’s by J. Allen Boone. Mr. Boone, a writer and film producer who was decidedly not a dog expert, ended up hosting a famous working dog at his home for several weeks. Strongheart had been a police dog, an army dog, and a film star. Patiently, and over the weeks, Strongheart began to teach Mr. Boone that all Mr. Boone’s conceptions about dogs were absolutely irrelevant to the inner life of a dog.

The inner life of a dog, it turned out, was not so different from Mr. Boone’s inner life. At the heart of a dog, Mr. Boone found an active consciousness reaching out in all directions, a desire to connect with others and be recognized by them, and a deep sensitivity to communication from others. All of these, Mr. Boone realized, were expressions of the yearning to find a meaningful place in a universe overflowing with beckoning secrets just beyond our grasp. He and Strongheart spent many evenings looking together at the stars and contemplating these secrets, either on a beach (Mr. Boone’s favorite place) or on a mountaintop (Strongheart’s favorite place).

Over the years, Mr. Boone continued to learn about consciousness — not only from Strongheart the dog, but also from his friends Zephyr the skunk and Freddie the fly. As he grew in his ability to create relationships with animals, he realized that he was learning the secrets of creating a relationship with anyone.

Here are some of the secrets he learned:

1. Learn to let go of your projections. If you don’t, then whatever qualities you project onto another being are the qualities that you will see. You will experience your projections – but you won’t experience the other being.

2. Recognize that every creature is an expression of Divine Energy or what Mr. Boone calls, “The Great Mind of the Universe.” Every unique creature is an expression of this Mind. At the deepest level, our thoughts and feelings are in sync. We need to learn to reach together for this level. How do we do it? We shut off the mental chatter that shoots projections everywhere and in the stillness we just listen.

3. Learn to see the best qualities in others. When you find this difficult, find a thesaurus. Choose some positive qualities that you value highly and find as many synonyms for them as you can. Then observe the other being carefully and quietly, and you will come to see that they express, in their unique way, some very valuable qualities.

It might seem odd to receive relationship advice that is passed down from animals. But remember the orca my fellow travelers and I saw from the ferry. The orca had some very special powers. It had the power to cancel our thoughts and call us all to wonder. In an instant, we let go of every important thing we were doing and we found ourselves contemplating the magic of creation. The orca had the power to unite people simply by being present. Busy ten year old girls, talkative Israeli tourists, slow-moving elderly couples, gifted six-year-old children — we all found ourselves sharing as one in the Mind of the Universe. And, in that silence, we saw the orca as an expression of grace, beauty, and play.

I know it happens sometimes in a marriage that your silly, old fashioned negative impressions of animals come forward. Your partner is bugging you. They’re acting like a skunk, a dog, a pig, an old goat. But when that happens, remember. Remember the deep lessons that Mr. Boone learned from members of these species. Remember the mysterious power of the orca. Remember the orca. And choose its blessings.

– Laura Duhan Kaplan, 2009

Image: “Large Orca Totem” by David Montpetit, www.vandopgallery.com