Fish Out of Water
Early this morning, I saw a man pull the most beautiful fish out of the ocean on a fishing line. Its belly was the light aqua of a clear morning sky, its body shimmering with sea grass greens and sunset oranges. I watched as a few people gathered to take a pictures of the fisherman proudly holding up this foot-long rainbow wrasse. A few minutes later, the fish was dying alone on the sandy pier as the man re-baited his line and went on fishing. I went over and watched this beautiful creature lying there, suffocating on air as I would in water, staring back at me with one shocked yellow eye, unable to move except for her gills. I took a very short video, wanting to remember this experience. I asked the fisherman if a fish tastes better when it’s this beautiful, and he said yes. Then I walked away.
Here’s the thing. I believe that any person observing as I did should be able to perceive that a fish dying like that is suffering. The heartbreak and loneliness I felt on the pier this morning brought up so much about what is wrong with us as a species in this time. And it brought up more questions about what’s wrong with me. What is my role as a sentient being on this planet?!
For most of my life, the popular narrative has been that fish don’t feel pain. I have known for at least a couple of years, however, that scientists agree now that fish do feel pain. I wonder if the average American is aware of that. Even if they are, fish suffocation is generally not relevant to their daily lives. Like the suffering of most of the animals we rely on for food in the US, or the mass extinctions of species that is happening on our watch, it’s necessary to put this kind of knowledge out of our consciousness, in order to hold onto a reality we can live in somehow.
I want to try and understand 1. why I didn’t say anything to the fisherman or anyone else there this morning about the fact that fish do feel pain; and 2. should I change my behavior in the future, in a moment like that, and why.
This is related to a conversation I know we’ve had many times before. In general, do individual actions matter? I used to think, yes! If we all do our little part, collectively we can make a difference! These days, I’m more in the gray area, leaning toward no in terms of significant outcomes, given the inflexibility of the systems we’ve created and certain propensities of humans. [That’s a big topic for another day for me, but feel free to riff on it in the comment if you want!]
In this morning’s scenario, I just observed. My general modus operani with strangers is “it’s none of my business.” I don’t think anything I would say would (or should?) stop the man from fishing, or have him put the poor animal out of its misery. Informing strangers on a pier that fish actually do feel pain might be news to them, but so what? Even if they think about it for a second, or google it later, it’s not likely to change anything about their behavior, fish-related or otherwise. Most likely, it would just be a downer for a moment.
Should I have grabbed the fishie and thrown her back in the ocean?! Wow, what a glorious moment that would have been for the fish, and for me.… I can see it in slow motion, this magnificent fish flung through the air, sand flying off as she hits the water and is gone in a flash (whether by swimming away or being gobbled in one bit by a bigger fish, we will never know).
It is the thought of the next moment that stops me from even dreaming about the first, as I am just another crazy lady or a “Karen” who now has to miss yoga class in order to have a conversation with a police officer. Besides it not being in my nature to fling a fish, I do know that we will not save the planet one gorgeous fish at a time.
For most of my life, I was an idealist who would insist that individual actions matter. Lately, I have come to believe that individual actions matter most to the individuals who act them.
If I want to live a more conscious life, more in line with my values, the next time something like this happens, I must get out of my comfort zone and speak up. I need to channel those among you whom I’ve known to speak up, if only to mention that a fish out of water does feel pain. But I would be doing it for me, in selfish hopes of clearing my own conscience, and to honor that one fish life, so that I can go about my day.
What has this exercise clarified for me? While I may have given up on humanity, I have not yet given up on my need to hold onto a reality I can live in somehow.
I love this reflection that “I have come to believe that individual actions matter most to the individuals who act them” - that feels especially true for me in terms of my practices of waste reduction.
Yet also while those small actions might not make any real difference in the larger scheme of human environmental impact, I do personally still believe they matter in a way that extends beyond (and through) their mattering to the individuals performing aligned actions.
I think there is a kind of energetic imprint in the how and why of what we do that ripples out when we connect and live our values; when we are mindful of our impact, motivated by love rather than shame and perfectionism, we are showing the earth and our fellow humans that we can be conscious beings who belong in the fabric of life.
One thing I think that is really interesting and nuanced in this wider topic of our relationship to the natural world is that I no longer personally think that the “right thing” for us humans to do is to avoid causing suffering at all costs (ie: not kill fish) and try to have as little impact on the earth as we can - In fact, I think that the impulse to take this position comes from the same kind of thinking that allows us to exploit the earth - a worldview in which humans are inherently separate from, and better than, the rest of the fabric of life.
From listening to (mostly Native American and Aboriginal) Indigenous perspectives, I have come to believe that it is possible for humans to hunt, fish, and harvest in ways that honor, and in fact support, the web of life we are also fed by.
I ofter this to ask if these perspectives might shift your thinking around what you might do in a similar future moment.
Is the individual action you could do that would matter most, saying something to the man about the fish being able to suffer? Or is it starting a conversation with the man about how he relates to taking the lives of sentient beings? Or perhaps sitting with the fish for a moment longer to feel and hold the loss present in the transformation of the fish passing on to feed another life form?
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Just wanted to take some time to share the reflections coming up for me in response to your beautiful, heartfelt writing! I love what you’re doing here - inspiring, potent, turning all our gears!
I've known for a long time that I've given myself permission to be outraged in private, to yell at the TV and shout at the top of my lungs about other peoples behavior that I find abhorrent - but to be silent in public. I've taken baby steps to ease into being authentic and more public in my outrage, mostly thanks to you, Julie, and your people. You make me a better person, not best, but better. It's a process :) and I've been yelling in private for a long time now.