The Creature of the Air and Sea

An allegory

Whether we know it or not, we each live according to grand narratives. The step beyond knowing is to create your own myth and live it out, like a lifelong lucid dream. Here is (version 1 of) mine. I'll continue to revisit and revise this over time, this story about the creatures of the air and sea.

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Before there was earth to walk, our world was split between the sky and sea. There were no continents, coastlines, or trees, only water reflected in the pale-blue firmament. The sky and sea were vast and had never intersected — that is, until the day of the albatross and the manta ray.

The creatures of the air lived in perpetual conflict, killing each other to survive. The only place they could land, in this world without trees, was the ice cap at the pole. What would have otherwise been pristinely white, the entire ice sheet was stained blood-red with the remains of their devoured kin.

All the creatures of the air hunted each other, except the mighty albatross. He had the greatest wingspan and could glide for moons at a time above the vast, formless sea. Not only was the albatross strong and skillful but also noble; he refused to kill his kin. In reverence, the creatures of the air would leave meat on the bone of their prey for the albatross to scavenge. They knew that if he were forced to hunt, the albatross would have been the most fearsome predator, and no creature's prey. When the albatross was well-fed, he would go out on long expeditions in every direction from the pole, trying to find another source of food. He was searching for peace. Every expedition had been fruitless, so he decided to fly further, to where the air was warmer and the seawater darker.

To the creatures of the air, the sea was deadly. They feared it and flew high above the surface, after seeing so many wounded fliers fall and splash and disappear. They feared the dark and never dared to learn what was beneath the surface.

The creatures of the sea lived unsettled and aimless. In this world without reefs, there was nowhere to harbor them in community. The night was a threat to every family; darkness brought the risk of losing each other to the vast, formless sea. To stay together, the creatures of the sea organized themselves about the equator and stayed close to the surface, so that they could navigate by the glint of the Moon at night. None of the creatures of the sea had ever killed. They were all filter-feeders, ever-open to receive whatever motes of nutrients the water could offer.

The creatures of the sea feared the bright light that shone beyond the surface, and they feared the pitch-dark abyss below. They kept to the middle tract, keeping far from the depths, for those were associated with death. When one of their kin would starve, the creature would turn and sink and disappear into the pitch-dark.

All the creatures of the sea feared the depths except the graceful manta ray. She was the largest creature and one of the many who had become separated from their families. The manta ray could move faster than any other, with less effort, and she faced the pitch-dark daily. It was mostly for her curiosity and her longing for stillness that she often retreated there. Her keen, subtle senses would guide her, feeling the pull of the planet's poles or following trails of warm water that would bubble up from vents on the seafloor. She always found her way back to the surface and never strayed too far from the equator. On the nights when the Moon was absent or dim, she would rise to the surface to guide her kin.

Though she was drawn beyond the sea toward the moonlight, the manta ray never breached the surface of the sea.

The albatross had been gliding for weeks in one direction with his eyes fixed on the horizon, looking for some new source of food and somewhere to land. But his neck grew weak and his head heavy, drawing his gaze down, away from the horizon. He kept gliding, rising and falling against the peaks and troughs in the water, and he slowly came to know the shape of the sea. It was near the equator that his keen eye spotted prey beneath the waves. The albatross feared starvation more than he feared the dark unknown. And on that day, the albatross dove from the sky into the sea.

A crash, then an eery, dull silence. All the creatures fled from the albatross, who was flailing and sinking. Then the manta ray came upon him, noticing his struggle. She felt an immediate kinship with the albatross, maybe for the familiar shape of his wings. The graceful manta ray swept him up and breached the surface with the mighty albatross on her back. The albatross flapped dry, and the two floated beside each other, as the manta ray basked in the sun for the first time. He craned his neck and warbled in gratitude; she curled her fins and closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of the day.

It was the albatross's hunger that drove him into the sea, and it was the manta ray's compassion that led her to the sky. They both went away, returning to their kin with this new knowledge. Slowly, the albatross learned to safely dive, and the manta ray learned to leap high into the air. They each taught their kin the same, and no creature again had to fear the sky or sea.

The creatures of the air not only learned to dive but also to fly further. And the creatures of the air began to prey on the creatures of the sea. This enraged the manta ray, and, for saving the albatross, she felt responsible. The threat of predation from above forced the creatures of the sea to dive deeper, frantically seeking refuge in the cold darkness. It made it even harder for families to stay together. The creatures of the air had found peace, for they had no more need to kill each other. But the ice was still stained blood-red from the dismembered carcasses of the creatures of the sea.

This killing continued for generations. Many creatures of the sea would keep near the surface so that they could leap and play and be together with their families. The king albatross led the creatures of the air to prey on the creatures of the sea, and the only trouble they ever had was from the queen manta ray. When she saw one of them diving, she would leap over her kin to protect them, fending off the predators. But the creatures of the air were always able to get as much food as they needed, and they kept coming back.

One day, the manta ray decided to follow the albatross back to his home, to retaliate and end the killing. She swam quickly, keeping to the surface during the days, for warmth, then diving deep at night to trace a massive tectonic rift along the seafloor. The rift was emitting bubbles and bursts of light, as if the power of the Sun was peaking through. The albatross led her all the way back to the pole. When she arrived the ice cap, the queen manta ray started leaping high into the air, startling their safe and cozy community. Creatures of the air came out to hunt her, to protect their families. As each swooped low enough, the manta ray leaped up and knocked them from the sky. The albatross witnessed this and decided not to hunt her. The manta ray humbled him with her grace and beauty.

Skillfully dodging the attacks from the manta ray, the albatross dove deep beneath the surface. And for a moment, they were each suspended in the other's world. It was a moment of deep understanding. On the surface, they both became still. And the two communicated. The creatures of the air, to preserve peace, needed a more accessible source of food. The creatures of the sea, to protect their families, needed a home to which they could easily navigate. The albatross and the manta ray intuitively new what to do, and resolved in a pact to achieve this future for their kin.

From that very spot near the pole, the albatross took flight, and the manta ray dove. He soared as high as he could until he froze. The king froze with his wings outstretched, spanning across the entire equator, shielding the sea from the harsh light of the Sun. The manta ray dove as fast as she could, toward the tectonic rift she had seen on the seafloor. The queen jetted through that geothermal gap and entered the planet's womb, to be reborn as earth that would someday reach the sky. These sacrifices engendered our world. Slowly, the ice caps grew, soaking up some of the sea, and that made it easier for the seafloor to rise and eventually breach the surface — creating continents, coastlines, and trees.

Now that there is earth to walk, we are witness to the creatures of the air and sea existing in harmony. Birds build nests and perch in trees, hunting not just fish but bugs and critters, or berries; there is permanent peace. Fish gather in reefs and travel along the coastlines in schools; save the solitary predators, the all live in community. The albatross and the manta ray were kin, and the two co-created our world, co-created you and me. There is much wisdom to learn from them both, if we look closely. We each have the opportunity to become The Creature of the Air and Sea.

Springboard

A carefully crafted question to help you dive inwards:

Are you more like the albatross or the manta ray? What's one thing you could learn from his/her counterpart that would bring you closer to who you want to be?

I'm not sure whether I am more like the manta ray or just admire her more. I am drawn to that energy and want to embody it. Whenever I'm in the presence of a feminine person — someone who is still and perceptive, mysterious and amorphous, spiritual and compassionate — I long to be more like him or her.

I don't want to lose myself for seeking things in the world, in solitude. I want to discover myself by voyaging inward — into the dark depths, facing death — for the sake of the world. Like the albatross, I value ultimate freedom and autonomy, and like the manta ray, I am comfortable being submerged in uncertainty and ambiguity. Hopefully, I'm on my way to becoming my unique blend of both: The Creature of the Air and Sea.

Thank you for reading.

– Garrett Kincaid

I haven't published many essays this year (yet!), but I have been publishing my fleeting thoughts and half-epiphanies as "logs" on my site. If you're curious, you can read a curated feed of my inner monologue.