Message from the Fin Whale: Our Podal Consciousness
painting by: Autumn Skye
Two weeks ago, a Fin whale beached here on the Oregon coast, where Iwāl (the Columbia River) meets the sea, at a beach twenty minutes from my home.
Fin Whales are the second largest cetaceans in the ocean. This whale was a young child, and still stretched a mighty 46 feet along the shore.
I felt the immediate call from my guides, the Kontomblé, to visit the whale and tend to his vessel after the necropsy was held the next day.
As I approached the whale, I felt a distinct shift in the energy field about 300 feet away from the body. I asked what this was, and was directed to make offerings of milk to the ocean. As I did, I could see that I had entered the energy field of the pod. The whale began speaking to me, showing me that just as each whale has its own energy body, so does the pod have an energy body. The whale called this the “podal consciousness”.
He showed me they use this consciousness to communicate with each other during migrations, feeding, sleeping and the tending of songlines. This podal field of consciousness was frazzled and fractured with the loss of their little relative.
My offering was a signal to the rest of his pod, that his body had landed here, and was now in good hands. That his crossing would now be tended with reverence and love, at the recognition and hands of the little people.
There was a sense of relief as the pod registered this acknowledgment. A final release and letting go was allowed as the mother of the Fin whale received the telepathic “sonar” sent through this message. She had been grieving, and at a loss for what had happened to her child, who washed up ashore entangled in rope, with markings from a brush with orcas on his tail and body.
As I continued to walk toward the whale, the little people dropped in more clearly.
They said “Just as humans have a causal field, which houses their soul level agreements, the whales have a podal field of consciousness, which houses the agreements and song seeds of the pod. Humans used to have this too. This is what we call the consciousness of the village. The humans must remember their podal consciousness once again.”
As I reached the body of the whale, which was being gently lapped and rocked by the incoming tide, I removed my boots and got my offerings ready. There was a small group of folks gathered around, witnessing him. Children playfully running up to the body, back and forth with the tide, and their parents taking pictures. Amidst this absence of reverence, there was still a palpable sense of awe and grief.
The whale said “You know what to do”.
The whale showed me taking handfuls of rose petals off of the bouquet I brought, and offering them into the ocean at the tail and around the body of the whale.
As I began to release the petals into the ocean, my pants rolled up and my feet wet, a deeper sense of reverence and respect began to settle in around us.
When I got to the whale's belly, on the side that was still intact and had not been cut by the necropsy, a tall, large Bear of a man walked up to me and looked me in the eye, and a flash of understanding settled between us. I reached out my hand and dropped a palm full of yellow rose petals into his hand, and he nodded in thanks. He walked up to the whale and made his prayer.
Another Elder came over, and he accepted some roses, as I approached the head of the whale. He was an artist and a zoologist who specialized in sea birds. He chatted with me for a few minutes about the beauty of the whale.