"The Hatch" - Swabbing for Sacred Enlightenment on an Abandoned Off-Shore Oil Rig - New Myth #91 by Willi Paul, Mythologist, Planetshifter.com
"The Hatch" - Swabbing for Sacred Enlightenment on an Abandoned Off-Shore Oil Rig - New Myth #91 by Willi Paul, Mythologist, Planetshifter.com

Marine permaculture will grow kelp forests on grids of pipes floating submerged 15-25m below the surface of the sea far offshore, with ocean waves powering water pumps bringing nutrients up from deeper water, irrigating a square kilometer of kelp seaweed and creating a food chain for sea creatures of all sizes.

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Living on an island on an island, not caring about the shore and the struggles there anymore. The past is simply a rusty old bed or a bad joke about bait, we are the homeless of the recent civil war. History is irrelevant without a magnifying glass or a web site to justify it; the present fuels our souls in a daily blur of gurgling fish and shards of abandoned ocean plastic.

Rise above your distracted monocle of survivalism with this salty sacred resilience!

We pause for meditation at dawn and dusk to acknowledge the integration of Nature's winds, rain, lightning and aquarius: all swim at home.

This life quest called "Hatch" moves us forward - never back. No fear; no regrets. What happens here today is always our world to come. Hand labor is key. Permaculture composted soil is the highest barter commodity you can bring - followed by fresh mango ice cream, norcal weed, lithium batteries and certain Napa Valley wines.

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You could certainly commandeer and live on an oil platform... but why would you want to? It would be a very dismal, lonely, horribly expensive existence. Under the terms of the International Law of the Sea any such structure automatically falls under the jurisdiction of the closest extant sovereign state - so by living on one you'd still be subject to all of the usual laws - you just wouldn't derive much benefit from them, or have any chance of enjoying a normal life.

The Hatch has been called many things since the coast disappeared: the charging station; "cement pillow"; the last lay-over; sea-charged hotel. Survival of the greenist.

A prayerful balance of closed and open systems. Lunatics running the jail; days and nights fueled by consensus. The old oil drill tower as the new Temple. The derelict derrick is an accelerator; baked fish scales and deteriorated rubber mats prove it. We are re-coding the recycling bin.

"San Barbara: We have reached Enlightenment."

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One could say that the station is just human trash, a re-tread; an ace bandaged food forest salt lick - a wind, tidal wave and hydro-sun-driven un-oasis. Re-purposed trash and old spills slither 22.5 miles out from Dow Jones as the tiger bees get wet but the potted cactus stay free.

I always hear me laughing when I call our meet-up room whiteboard the "internet." Our guests expect a black screen and a blinking light. Bits of sea-gifted charcoal and crayons write better on the walls and the decks. "Activism is Dead." Get this tattooed on your back if you want to stay.

We are building a new mythology here, with bits of Ho Chi Minh coin and pictures from loving memories. It all boils down to hype of the next catch - the next sunset - and a song to make it rhyme.

Spirituality of the Merge. Salt Water Sun Kelp Pray. The station is an archeological ruin - is an oxymoron - is the anti. Our celestial map illuminates the hands and toes of our babies. We are growing new thumbs daily.

Most dives down, under the platform, and into the kelp beds and oyster racks, the light - above - sea - around has no distinctions. The eyes blink; lungs oxygen safe. The tower is the snorkel; the sky is the mask.

Archetypes blister the eyes, as the fear of becoming extinct - enjoins the daily act of destroying species -. that killing mother thing -. celebrating our finite lives - just being live.

Symbols on the ceiling in our bunks: the bad eagle clutches, sea turtles stare, sister dolphin protects. Hurricane season trolls and rips. The serpent as ocean current.

The climate crisis re-creation new world myth. Our Old Water Kingdom Come. Can humans evolve as ocean gods? Who will be around to see?

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And now for all of you unapologetic tech-will-saves-us diaper babies, the main power generation and food production facts:

+ A gigantic thin metal wind vane with built-in electronic spinner blades generate energy. Blades are re-purposed from wings from drowned aircraft engine parts

+ High hanging water catchment channel nets is rescue rain into large plastic containers on deck

+ We have a refuge moat around the surface to collect wire, plastic, metal and debts

+ Tidal wave panels provide electricity from the ocean floor

+ Rewilded whale blubber for dirty fuel, fish oil, and primitive life skill seminars

+ Stationary bicycles and sky kites for dribbles of watts

+ Floating plastic pollution is transformed into rafts and sunk for fish habitat

+ The sea provides raw materials for the production of vitamin supplements

+ Sky nets trap birds for the Sunday community meal

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The scale of marine contamination is so vast, no one is truly unaffected. Ocean trash is found everywhere from polar seas to the tropics, and from the stomachs of salmon to the bodies of orcas. If we do not start cleaning up our messes, scientists predict that by 2050, there will be more plastic in the ocean than fish. Ocean trash threatens not only the health of coastal and marine ecosystems, but the health of everyone who comes in contact with it.