You're here for cat culling?

#029 Reality vs Perception - constant realignment

This week I’m writing from a porch looking out to the Caribbean Sea. I can hear the gentle lapping of the waves on the iron shore rocks, and the chug of a solitary boat passing. The air temperature is heavy and hot. It has been gradually creeping up again after the cooling of the tropical storms last week. If you haven’t experienced this weather before, it’s a bit like sitting in an airing cupboard. Admittedly, the view from this airing cupboard is very beautiful.

In the distance I can see colourful figures on the rocks. One is standing, and the other sitting. I can’t make out what they are doing- possibly fishing. It is much easier to see the tiny hermit crabs, as they are in close proximity. Long spindly legs stretch out from their shells, as they scuttle across the tile floor.

I’m reminded of one of my early posts here on Substack, The still point. This was my fifth post, only 33 subscribers received it, yet remains one of my most read articles. In it, I reflected on the huge changes I was making in life, and shared a comment from a friend-

My friend said that I was like a hermit crab, outside the shell that I have been in for many years, scurrying along the sand, looking for a new one. It normalised the feelings of vulnerability and uncertainty that we experience in times of significant change. It might feel unsafe, but it is part of a process necessary for growth.

The hermit crab

Since moving to Grand Cayman I have experienced many more significant changes. I’m definitely living in a very different shell compared to any I’ve lived in before. Whilst some changes have been awe inspiring and wonderful, the process of change is hard for anyone. I recently wrote about the sickening shifts between safe uncertainty and unsafe uncertainty, and how I was navigating these stormy seas. It makes me smile to realise that throughout this I have been surrounded by hermit crabs, of all shapes and sizes. As well as the expected places they’ve been deep in the water on the steps of the swimming pool, beside the front door, and I’m half expecting to see one crawl out of my work bag! Each one makes me feel wonder, and keeps reminding me of my article, and that there are multiple ways of being. I love how nature often provides the wisdom that we need.

I recorded a video the day after tropical storm Helene left us, as my eye was captured by the large hermit crab on the steps to the beach. It immediately retracted into its shell, where it stayed as if frozen in the spot for the five or so minutes that I sat recording!

I can’t share the video here but the photos offer a different window into this experience. This is the camera-shy crab!

Everywhere else there was movement. Crab after crab after crab crawled out of the rocks and vegetation. I imagined they had been washed up by the storm waves, or were purposefully sheltering above the water line. I recorded them for minutes, turning my camera regularly to check on the big crab on the step, to see if it had braved coming out. Each time it was in exactly the same spot.

I followed the moving crabs with my camera- these ones were not too scared to move. They were aware I was there and scuttled away, hiding under the wobbly rocks that had previously formed a firm path to the beach, or retreating into their shell for a moment, but they were not fixed to the spot like the first one was. They went about life.

We all have the same reactions to threat- I’ve written before about our fight, flight, and freeze responses (though there are more). What things cause us to freeze, and become trapped in one spot, and what supports us to experience the fear, but to keep moving and exploring life anyway, like those other crabs? What keeps you moving in the dance of life?

After recording the crabs, I walked down to the shoreline, careful to choose the more stable rocks, and avoid crushing the creatures hiding beneath. The waves were less wild than they had been over the previous week, but they had made their mark.

Of course, the impact here is far less than in Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Virginia, where the impact of hurricane Helene is devastating. I don’t even know how to write about this, and the thoughts and feelings it raises. My intended article about the storm remains unfinished and writing a statement sending my love and wishes for swift financial aid and recovery seems so inadequate. But I do wish for those things. I feel deep care and concern and want to shout about our need to do more to consider our impact on the world’s weather and the planet. I want to demand answers about global warming, which must surely be connected to the raising sea temperatures that are creating the conditions for more of these storms, and so much more. It is my understanding that there have been more named storms this year than ever before, affecting people, the ecosystem, and infrastructures.

I can’t find the words because I feel so helpless. What do we do about this???

Everything changes

One of the first photos that I took here in Grand Cayman was of the beach by my apartment. I arrived in the early evening and I woke early due to the time difference, so was down on the beach ready to watch my first Caribbean sunrise. It was beautiful, and of course the photos are not a patch on the reality. This is a beach that I quickly grew to love, as a place of calm.

Picture on day 1- Before the storm

Only three weeks later the beach was changed. The smooth sandy slope to the sea had been replaced by a steep drop, the sand taken away with the waves, revealing the iron shore that had been hidden beneath.

Picture on week 4- After Helene

Although not as lovely to walk along in barefoot, what was amazing to me was that there were many rockpools filled with water. I looked for hermit crabs and didn’t see any, but a couple of pools had tiny fish swimming in them. A new ecosystem had been created and was already populated! Nature shows us how to adapt.

When I left the beach via the steps, the big crab was gone. Everything, no matter how beautiful, challenging, or frozen, changes!

Reality vs the Idea/l

A hermit crab has just come out from the sofa, distracting me from what I was writing. It’s making a run for the edge of the porch. There is a 10cm drop to the grass, and the crab just took the leap with just a moment’s pause.

I put the laptop down for a moment to stand up and check on the crab. It’s already moving over the thick blades of grass, unbothered by the apparent challenges it faces.

Is this a reminder that challenges that seem unmanageable, like the huge drop made by the tiny hermit crab, are often very possible?

I have written about this before, but moving somewhere new, where every assumed truth about the world suddenly needs to be revised or thrown out, highlights that we live according to our ideas about the world. The stories and scripts that I developed living in the UK, do not all transfer well to the Caribbean. And the images that I send home to friends and family, and that I share here with you, hold a complex story.

Of course we are drawn to the beauty. The shadow parts are not always so obvious.

This shell that I have chosen to make my home is not all soft sandy beaches and beautiful sunsets. It is real, and raw, and full of shadow beneath the shine. The work that I do here brings into sharp focus the many safety nets we have in the UK, that I have taken for granted. I am not saying that life is always easy in the UK, I worked in the NHS and alongside the council services long enough to understand the significant challenges for many many people there, but living and working in a country where there is no adult care, and no charitable organisations on the scale or political push-power of Mencap, the National Autistic Society, and where the cost of living is astronomical, makes me appreciate the multitude of specialist organisations that provide education and support. We have replaced the shell, but underneath we have similar challenges to manage, they perhaps just look different on the surface.

Living in a place where you see the effects of a storm that brushed past you, knowing you could be next in line for a direct hit of your own certainly makes me feel the stark reality of hurricane season, and more connected and empathic towards those who have been affected by Helene. The sense of powerlessness, motivates me to focus on the things that I can do something about.

Purpose

There is much to dazzle in the Cayman Islands, and I am glad to be here. I’ve also felt overwhelmed at times. When we get overwhelmed, we can freeze like the hermit crab. The older I get the more certain I am that the things keep us from freezing in one spot are not things that dazzle on the surface. It is not the fancy car, the big house by the sea, the expensive meals out that anchor us, and allow us to move with the waves of life, but our loving relationships, our values, and purpose. Being healthy, and having enough money to live are also hugely stabilising factors, and sometimes beyond our control.

I have been wobbled by losing some of my supports and easy home comforts, and it is helpful to come back to remember the things that I can control.

Image that I first saw and found helpful when it was shared on social media in the pandemic. Credit to TheCounsellingTeacher.com

There are many of these diagrams online, each with their own slant. The things that stand out from this one, are my positive attitude, my kindness and grace, and finding fun things to do. Snorkelling, swimming, and meeting new friends for food are top on my list of things to do here, as well as my creative writing. I am so appreciative of this space to write, to make sense of my experiences, and to connect in a way that I hope is meaningful to others. It is an anchor to my values, and to other people, and I am so grateful to you all.

In my hermit crab article, I shared my intentions for my writing on Substack, scattering them like seeds, and it’s timely to remind myself of them now.

• Be brave.

• Share my reflections.

• Connect.

I want to scatter these seeds of intention in this part of the Caribbean too, knowing that they will grow differently here.

A Caymanian recently referred to herself as having black thumbs. She was of course not being literal- we were talking about her garden and her plant caring skills. Every plant she touched died, she said!

In the UK we refer to people having green fingers when they like gardening and are good at keeping plants alive, but I had never heard this opposite. It is culturally understandable - the island is not especially friendly to plants! There is very little soil, and I imagine that people have to work hard to nurture and help things grow. I will need to learn new ways of tending the seeds of creativity here.

Nurture

The lovely writing spot on the porch is a consequence of moving to a new place this week. Whilst I feel a bit more settled today, this transition was challenging. I can see now that the issue was less with the scale of the things that happened, but more how I perceived them- they were like my imaginings of the 10cm drop to the crab, scary to look at, but actually not harmful. My perception has of course been impacted by the loss of many supports and home comforts, so I need to practice my self-compassion here.

Those who have been on island for a long time shrug in response to this type of challenge, and reply-

‘It’s the Caribbean’,

I hear them also saying in their tone,

‘What do you expect me to do? Get over it!’

It makes me want to shake them, and cry-

‘Everything is not supposed to break like this!’

And yet it does!

I am not cursed, nor doing anything wrong, nor being scammed. Without any disrespect nor judgement, it’s just the Caribbean.

Frozen hermit crabs and frightened cats

This was not the article I thought I was going to write. It was going to be about miscommunication. I was going to tell you about going into a rescue centre last weekend and offering my cat cuddling services. I was going to share their shocked and surprising response-

‘You’re here for some cat culling?’

No, no, no!!!!

I had to repeat myself three times before they finally understood what I was actually saying.

CAT CUDDLING!!!

I was going to tell you that once they were sure that I was not a big risk to the cats, they let me in and I spent half an hour with the ‘spicy’ ones. I didn’t get much of a cuddle, it has to be said, more of a gentle stroke through the bars with the three that could tolerate touch.

So now I’ve told you, and I can make a connection to this article instead! The obvious being that all of these spicy cats need gentle care, and understanding. They are in a new environment where everything is strange, and sometimes frightening.

When the shell we inhabit changes (and if we continue to grow in life, change it will), we may not be able to change the outside world, but we are in charge of the insides of our shell, and how we engage with the world. How do we keep inviting the nurturing cat cuddler inside, and not the uncompassionate culler?

You might like to consider what your shell like to live in? What do you do when the outside world is overwhelming?

What helps each of us to feel brave enough to keep taking the leaps that seem difficult? How can we provide a warm place to retreat to when things get overwhelming, so we don’t stay stuck on that step and miss out on the life we could be living?

Final thought-

It’s strange seeing the calendar turn to October. Here in the Caribbean there is no such thing as autumn, and no deciduous trees to drop and mark the familiar cycle of change. The supermarkets have started to sell pumpkins and Thanks Giving food, and I associate all of this with harvest, the falling leaves, nights drawing in, and turning the fire on to cozy up under a blanket! I have a whole lot of templates about the way that the world is that are going to be challenged and changed! As my anchors become more firmly secured, I’m hoping these will be exciting to experience, and not so overwhelming!