Foreword
Of my grandfather’s many famous quotes, these are the two I hear, read, and see emblazoned on walls and websites most often:
“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”
“People protect what they love.”
What did he mean when he said them? I can only infer—he’s not here to ask—but I believe they should be taken in simplicity. The first is about that magical enchantment so many people feel toward the water. The second is about survival—protecting what we love is a basic instinct to humans (just ask any parent). Taken together, these two ideas explain the lives of many aquatic scientists: you are pulled in and fall in love with the water world, so you dedicate yourself to protecting it. And yet, in an effort to remain unbiased, neutral, and impartial, these same scientists wouldn’t think to investigate what’s behind the passion that drives their work.
The same is true for millions of nonscientists who choose to go to the water’s edge for a vacation. Most don’t consider why this is where they best relax, replenish, and rejuvenate. They don’t question that they’re getting something cognitively enriching from being by the water that goes way beyond sitting in a beach chair with a best-selling novel. They just know they love and need unplugged waterside time.
I’m not so different. I was born into an ocean family; my grandfather Jacques helped bring the wonders of the undersea world to millions via television, and this is part of my DNA, part of how I function. But there’s also a part of me that doesn’t want to know why I love the water, a part that prefers to just see its effects as magical, something unknown—indeed, unknowable—but deeply felt.
I don’t think everything in life needs to be explained. But when I consider what’s at stake, and the fact that we must encourage people to change their behavior and shift government policies if we’re going to restore the health of the world’s water systems, I’ve come around to agreeing with my dear friend Dr. Wallace “J.” Nichols that it’s time to explain the magic.
While appealing to people’s emotions can be very effective in many instances, at some point you have to be able to appeal to their intellects. You also need to adapt the message to different audiences. If you’re talking to a lawmaker, a fisher, a surfer, a real estate agent, or a mom, you have to speak their language. This sometimes means backing up the awe and wonder with numbers and facts, biology and neurochemistry.
As this book demonstrates, neuroscientists and psychologists are now producing research data that accomplish exactly that. We are beginning to learn that our brains are hardwired to react positively to water and that being near it can calm and connect us, increase innovation and insight, and even heal what’s broken. Healthy water is crucial to our physiological and psychological well-being, as well as our ecology and economy. We have a “blue mind”—and it’s perfectly tailored to make us happy in all sorts of ways that go far beyond relaxing in the surf, listening to the murmur of a stream, or floating quietly in a pool.
Because our love of water is so pervasive, so consistent, it can seem that asking why is a question that needs no answer. But once you begin to go deeper (no pun intended!), things are not as simple as we might initially think. We love the rhythmic sound of waves breaking on the beach, but why does that sound relax us more than nearly any other? How might our preference for the flat surface of a lake be rooted to prehistoric hunting patterns? Why does understanding the science of somatic tension help explain the pleasure we feel when submerged? And on and on, as you’ll see in this book. The result is not just understanding but inspiration. A comparison might be to gravity: we know what it is, but if our curiosity had stopped simply at the point of realizing that what we toss into the air must come down, we could never have landed men on the moon. So, too, water’s effects on us.
Fortunately, as I’ve become more involved with J.’s Blue Mind project, I’ve come to realize that understanding the science behind our feelings for water doesn’t do anything to diminish those feelings. As J. likes to say, “Looking at the science of wonder and love doesn’t make it any less wonderful.” Of course, statements like that can make scientists uncomfortable. Many people are afraid of the “touchy-feely” stuff that comes along with exploring human emotions. In 2013, when I attended the third annual Blue Mind Summit on Block Island, I found myself in an isolated place surrounded by people from all walks of life—neuroscientists, psychologists, educators, divers, artists, musicians—and water. We provoked each other and explored different methods of explaining universal sensations. I go to a lot of forums and conferences, and usually we check our personal feelings and experiences with nature at the door, reserving them strictly for the closing keynote remarks, or limiting them to one-on-one exchanges during breaks. The neuroscientists who gave presentations had to explain their work in the context of this multidisciplinary event and tell us how it applies to emotion. A few of them said while they were comfortable writing reports full of charts, data, brain imagery, and chemical formulas, they didn’t quite know how to speak universally about their science. But when they did, it resonated with everyone, because all of a sudden those of us who don’t usually understand that side of things thought, “Oh my God, really? That’s what happens? My neurons are doing that? It really is your brain on water!”
I strongly believe that the results of all of this research, debate, discussion, and celebration should be shared widely. Former boundaries are being pushed—even shoved—into new territory. More people must be included in the exchange until the wisdom that emerges from this conversation becomes common knowledge among members of the human tribe. Blue Mind is, deep down, about human curiosity, knowing ourselves more and better. If J. weren’t curious, we wouldn’t be where we are now.
The sea, once it casts its spell, does indeed hold us in its net of wonder forever. People do protect what they love. Why are these the two simple ideas we repeat so often? Because they’re true. Now it’s time for us to update my grandfather’s prescient words by explaining them, and, by doing so, changing our understanding and our consciousness of our place on the planet, who we are, and what goes on inside and between us. It’s about reconnecting our sense of self and soul with our waterways and oceans. It’s about finding creativity, clarity, and confidence in our deep Blue Minds.
My grandfather would go there, and so shall we.