by By Taylor “U’i” Barongan
A big part of growing up is finding the space to grow. Where do things typically grow? The ground.
As a traditional land mammal, I was baffled to find myself in the middle of the ocean, at least a hundred miles away from any land. I’ve traversed many lands before but never across any sea for more than a few hours. On my third day on the Kilo Moana, I realized why: I am not a sea person.
In Hawai’i, you’ll often hear people refer to themselves as ma uka (towards the mountain) or ma kai (towards the sea) which often indicates where a person is more drawn to – the forest or the ocean. I had always considered myself both, but in recent years I’ve found that I’ve felt more at peace ma uka.
The first few days on the Kilo Moana were calm; however, I was still unabashedly seasick. On my third day, I felt sick in a different way. I felt restless and tense from the continuous rocking. I was – for lack of better words – “land sick” in the same way one would be homesick. I felt ungrounded. Which made sense seeing as there was no ground and nothing to remind me of the earth even remotely.
Yet, the earth is made of two-thirds water, meaning the ocean is also part of my home. As one of the crewmembers so eloquently put it when asked why we explore the sea:
“The earth is our home. In your home, you visit every part of it and get to know every room. You don’t just hang out in one-third of your house and never explore the other two-thirds.”
My mission, alongside learning about the deep sea, was to find grounding on an ungrounded terrain.
As I adjusted to life on the boat, I began to see the various ways the crewmembers of the ship dealt with finding common ground with the sea. The most apparent form of grounding was through routine. Each crew member was assigned a watch, specific mealtimes, and designated sleeping times. Much of sea life could be considered somewhat monotonous from an outside view, but part of the monotony appeared to be in place to help establish a foundation for many of the members. It gave them stability.
Another method I observed was that everyone was quite enamored, all the time. Both the interns and the crew members alike. The object of their enamor was often the sea, but also, quite refreshingly, their work. Each person I met was deeply passionate about their work and the world around them. The subjects of sunset and sunrise were often paid a great deal of attention along with the stars. People took time to appreciate the small things in life, like enjoying a cup of coffee with the sunrise or posting little sticky notes with shark drawings on them in their workspaces. Everyone on the ship had an interesting way of passing the time and interacting with the natural world around them. This was something that resonated with me profoundly as I often sought comfort in the natural world. Despite my environment resembling more of a desert rather than the lush jungle I was accustomed to, I realized that engaging with the things you’re passionate about can also ground you anywhere.
Additionally, bringing the skills you develop outside of work was also a method that was frequently utilized on the ship to ground everyone. One thing that was such a rare trait to see was that everyone on the ship was incredibly strange in their own wonderful ways. Some people were quite skilled at art and playing instruments or they were incredibly knowledgeable about mythology or knot-tying. All these skills were highly encouraged and appreciated in a way that I had never seen before. In STEM, there is a trend of separating mind from body and art from science. On this boat, however, all these little quirks that made up the people of the ship were also what made up the science. The conditions in which the crew was made to adapt resulted in creative problem-solving and engineering for the ship’s technology.
The ship also had an astounding ability to integrate multiple disciplines of STEM– including biology, chemistry, engineering, and technology – sometimes even, all at once. Yet, there was still room for other inclusions such as art, history, humor, wit, and culture. On a ship with an ever-changing crew and some of the smartest people from around the world, everything was a mishmash. What I have enjoyed so far on this ship is that these differences were celebrated and displayed proudly. There were quirky menus in the mess hall, silly signs up in the computer labs, and action figures on the air conditioning boxes. While the Kilo Moana was a place for hardcore STEM, it was also a place for fun, curiosity, and never-ending patience.
Though my academic background was in human biology as opposed to anything sea-related, I found great interest in the anatomy of the sea. Much of the subjects we were studying felt incredibly poetic: an island rising from the depths of the ocean, the north and south poles flipping and becoming their opposites, and waves being sent to the bottom of the ocean to view the sea floor. Also, the only thing aside from lying in bed that could keep me from hurling my guts up was playing instruments. Luckily, the boat had quite a few. So, my journey also consisted of writing a song. I was in awe of the world of science around me, and for once in my academic journey, this artistic way of viewing things was not discouraged.
So, on the boat, I found grounding by doing the things I loved most despite the new change of element. I played music, I wrote poems, I stargazed, and I absorbed every bit of information I could. I was inspired by the fact that many people around me seemed to be doing the same thing. This displays true adaptability in STEM, and I feel so incredibly grateful that I get to find common ground with everyone on the Kilo Moana through this. Perhaps, the secret to staying grounded on an ungrounded terrain is simply seeking comfort in yourself, and staying constantly in awe of your surroundings. This is what keeps you tethered to a place, whether you’re physically staying in one place or not.
