Flashes

I was in a conference room with a large monitor on one wall and an equally massive white board on another. There was a faint smell of curry leftover from the Thai food we had ordered in for lunch. I rolled out my yoga mat in the narrow space between the central conference table and the wall - there was just enough space on the dusty concrete floor to accommodate me. As I settled into a cross-legged position on the mat, my dog, Kraken, laid down in the corner. He knew that yoga time for me meant naptime for him. A conference room was certainly not my usual yoga spot, but it was good enough for now. 

It had been a long week. In fact, the week didn't even end on Friday evening like normal, because my husband had to work through the weekend. Kraken and I hung out at his office all day Saturday, just to spend time together before I left town. 

I pressed into my hands, stretching backward into Downward-Facing Dog. Kraken twitched and snored in the corner. In the next room, my husband made all sorts of power-tool noises. 

My mind flashed to Monday. I was on F/V Kahuna, over 100 miles offshore on Georges Bank. The boat rolled and rocked in the waves, making me feel queasy. I pressed through the motion sickness to set up my remotely-operated vehicle and record video of the seafloor 50 m below. 

My husband entered the conference room. I held Warrior as he squeezed past me, barely tapping my yoga mat with his workshop boots. He erased a task from the white board and gave me a smile. Kraken lifted his head to check on us, then slumped back to the floor. 

My mind flashed to Wednesday. I was in the lab, rinsing and organizing all the gear I had used on the fishing boat. My intern asked if I could review her most recent draft manuscript, so I sat together with her to look over the document. My email chimed repeatedly, and an upcoming report deadline nagged at the back of my mind. If only I could get a few hours alone with my laptop. 

I breathed deeply, holding a stretch pose that most people would consider a form of torture. My arms ached while I tried to keep balance. Just outside the conference room door, one of my husband's co-workers threw a tennis ball for Kraken. They both needed a break. 

My mind flashed to Thursday. I was 70 feet underwater at the edge of WHOI's Iselin Pier. Large bubbles escaped from my regulator and rocketed to the surface. I had a syringe in my hands and kicked forward a few feet. Beside me, WHOI's Dive Safety Officer nodded approvingly as I pulled water into the syringe. Seems that sampling method worked just fine. 

I sat down on my mat. Carl was instructing his technician how to solder battery holders. "Make 50 of them," he said. Kraken wagged his tail expectantly, the tennis ball hanging out of one side of his mouth. 

Me being interviewed for WHOI's fundraising campaign 
video. Photo by Veronique LaCapra.

My mind flashed to Friday. I hammered away at my computer, adding code line after code line to my statistical analysis. My phone chimed. "We're ready for you anytime," said the message. Checking out my office window, I could see a film crew had set up on the shore of Eel Pond. The crew had been on WHOI's campus all week, interviewing scientists about their research and recording footage to use in our upcoming fundraising campaign. I was the last one to be interviewed - and with my schedule, I was surprised they fit me in at all. 

I laid on my mat in Shavasana. Kraken let the tennis ball roll away as he threw himself on the dusty floor in protest. There were power-tool noises in the workshop again. I breathed deeply. This is my life - chaotic and busy and challenging and something I would not give up for the world. 

We made it through the week. Now on to the next.