Ecotelepathy in Whales
“conceived of as a communicatory phenomenon that posits an omnidirectional exchange of cognitive/affective information between two distinct entities, occurring within any ecological framework where both exist simultaneously. It transcends conventional sensory modalities that otherwise impedes the sharing of psychosomatic data, which encompasses individual experiences of environmental states, emotional nuances and cognitive impressions.”
As a way of understanding this theory’s application within practical situations, Jason describes:
“Any interconnectedness of experience between a human and nonhuman, for example, is ecotelepathy; this could be as simple as a dog becoming agitated with excitement as its owner arrives home, eager for a walk, and the owner acquiescing in acknowledgement. In its more complex forms, even that which has been traditionally conceived of as non-sentient may communicate with the classically sentient; the Japanese art of karesansui (commonly known as a rock or Zen garden) is fundamentally predicated upon the dialogue of the gardener-artist with the ishigokoro (transliterated as ishi: rock, gokoro: heart/mind) of the rocks and gravel they tend.
If the concept of ecotelepathy sounds somewhat familiar, that is because we humans, even before our forced entry into Earth’s every biosphere, have always had a keen awareness of the sublimity present in the natural world.”
I find this eco-concept to be both theoretically productive, and emotionally pleasurable. I think of my Mum tending her garden each morning before the rest of the world is awake, caring for her hydrangeas and sweet peas; and in turn, how much they care for her by bringing her peace and company, even in small ways. This communicatory phenomenon feels as though it has been hidden in the open; existing everywhere but without acknowledgement. Until now, that is.
This theory directed my thoughts towards a text I read recently, an essay by Rebecca Giggs, who writes poignantly about a single moment within nature that she transforms into a live event with fluid temporality and sentiment. Her 2015 essay, ‘Whale Fall,’ describes the ‘event’ Giggs witnessed of a beached humpback whale, and the ensuing intimate and informed experience of watching it slowly die. Giggs, over the course of this event, engages in what I would retrospectively call ‘eco-telepathy.’ As the whale faded and its gleam retracted, Giggs hovered as near as she was able to, speaking sometimes to the whale’s blowhole. “What felt important in that moment was the act of seeing this through to the end, of agreeing not to leave the whale alone. Kinship, I guess, was what we proffered.” This kinship that she speaks of, the knowing presence of ‘not being alone,’ even for a whale, is what I believe to be an extension of this eco-telepathy. The small persistent group of strangers that gathered on the beach with Giggs until the very end, created a kinship of eco-telepathy with one another, and with the whale.
Is it possible to engage in ‘omnidirectional exchanges of cognitive/affective information’ between multiple entities? I believe it is. I believe this to be eco-telepathy of such strength that regardless of what the whale understood of Gigg’s speech, ‘ethereal, scratchy, irritable, a pin in the ear, or background babble,’ that it was understanding the communicatory phenomenon of multiple individuals connecting with it, grieving with it, existing in kinship with it.