Yesterday I spend some time observing dozens of seals. I stood with nearly the same number of humans overlooking a cove in La Jolla, California that is the resting spot of these amazing creatures. They lay nestled in the warm sand, their brown, gray, black and speckled bodies sunbathing in the blazing light. Out on a large rocky area the seals were nearly invisible until the ocean water pounded over the sea wall startling them from their basking. As the water shot out and over their rocky bed, the seals moved both their heads and tails to form the letter ‘C’. It think they were trying for the letter ‘O’ but never quite made it.

On the softer, sandier ground, mother seals cradled small pups in the crooks of their bodies warming them in safety. We watched as one small gray pup was nudged and prodded by the adult. Out into the water but not too far it went, closing monitored by the parent. What was going on here? A swimming lesson? At one point another adult seal got involved in the action coming toward the tiny pup as if to add their own instructions. The mother seal turned quickly on the other adult, hissing and clearly pointing out who was boss. Talk about your Tiger Mom!

Nearby another mother lay sleeping, her somewhat older, maybe teenaged pup snuggled near by. The younger seal was sleeping so soundly. I remember my own teenaged sons sleeping this kind of sleep that cannot be disturbed by noise or movement. At one point the adult slowly opened her deep brown eyes, her lovely long eyelashes blinking toward me. We seemed to share a knowing look.

What amazing creatures seals are! Watching them yesterday I thought of the ancient stories of selkies so prominent in Britain. Selkies, humans who had at one time been seals, were said to have come to land to become human, giving up their seal skins and often their souls as well, in an effort to become something other than who they were. Their stories are full of romance, melancholy and often tragedy.

Watching the seals yesterday, I imagined those early storytellers spinning the tale of these beings who came to live on land. The seals moved gracefully through the water, diving deep and coming up in places far from where they had begun. I can imagine those land-livers with vivid flights of fancy wanting to be able to do such wild and amazing acts and creating stories that would merge the life of land and sea. But observing the seals while on land was something completely different. It seemed neither their front flippers nor their back ones were quite strong enough to move on land. Here their movements were instead clumsy and labored, almost painful to observe.

As I watched these endearing creatures, I thought of all those who want to be something other than what they are. Many of us wish to embrace the wildness and grace of the seals in the sea. And at the same time we wish to have the assurance of the ground beneath our feet. There are sacrifices inherent in both. Often we give up great parts of ourselves without weighing all the odds. The selkie was often seen standing on shore looking out toward a life that had once been, unable to find the skin that would have allowed them to swim with grace once again. They had lost their uniqueness and were able to go home.

Today I am thankful to these beautiful beings for all the gifts they offered. The gifts of awe, beauty, joy, grace, and even mystery. As a land-living storyteller I was also blessed with the reminder to honor being comfortable in my own skin and to celebrate the unique and diverse beings with which I share this path of Creation.