All Thoughts Reserved For Delilah

Humans, we must do better.

This was a journal entry I wrote about 10 days ago that I thought I’d like to share.

Delilah. That’s what I named the beautiful seagull I’d like to think is now flying high above the sea or at least convalescing under compassionate care. But I’ll never know, and that’s what lingers, tangled in my thoughts. These days, my mind feels like a knot—always twisting, trying to unravel things that maybe aren’t meant to be unraveled.

We arrived in Lisboa about a week ago. After a perfect night in the city celebrating my birthday—live performance art, incredible food—we headed south to the Algarve to set up for the World Beach Ultimate Club Championships. My partner Adriana founded VC Ultimate, a company that creates custom gear for ultimate frisbee players around the globe. I’m here to help her with the event’s merchandise tent on the busier days, when she needs an extra hand. What started in 1998 as a mission to make great gear for ultimate players has grown into something much deeper. What I love most about Adriana is her commitment to making everyone feel included. Her real mission is about belonging—ensuring that every athlete and spectator feels seen and connected at these events, even seagulls.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to find some quiet of my own—trying to simply be here, not chasing after productivity, not looking for hacks or ways to optimize every moment. It’s so easy to fall into that trap. I’m writing this from the fourth floor, on the balcony overlooking Praia da Rocha in Portimao while a load of bed linen is spinning cartwheels in the washing machine— I hung the linens to dry on the outside decks and now I’m on the beach, under a once bright cadmium yellow umbrella, on a beach chair I rented for 12 Euros. It’s where I sat two days ago, trying to relax reading my book, Mrs. Van Gogh but all I could really think about was Delilah. There’s nothing I love more than the sound of the ocean, waves crashing into white frothy soup and then that little pop at the very end before it turns around and heads back to sea. The cliffs here are stunning, jagged sandstone hollowed out by wind and water. Every morning when I walk the beach, I imagine I can see the ocean shaving off a little more from the edges. Everything here feels old and simple—just stone and sea. And now my thoughts are back to Delilah. Even the sea can’t hold my attention with Delilah on my mind.

Adriana and I were exploring a cove, winding through rocks when we found her—helpless in the seaweed, a black zip tie painfully tight around her leg. My heart jumped into saviour mode, as it often does. I felt so responsible, representing the human race. I had seen a bunch of signs posted along the boardwalk - by 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean. I had the day before, picked up a scattering of broken zip ties from the sand left over from past beach events. C’mon humans, we can do better.

I wrapped her in a towel, hoping we could help. Adriana, calm and steady in a crisis, found scissors at a nearby café, and we cut the tie while I gently held her down in the sand. I gave her some fresh water which she quickly gulped and placed her in the shade, but I couldn’t shake the worry that her leg was broken or perhaps something else was preventing her from flying.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, we came back to check on her. She hadn’t moved much. I gave her more water,  called a wildlife refuge, and eventually found myself at a police station where the rangers come to collect injured wildlife. The officer, in the second station we went to,  in typical nonchalant fashion, warned me about avian flu. "You know, if you catch it, people usually die," he said, casually waving us off to another station. And suddenly, the knot in my brain tightened. What had I gotten us into? Was this really bird flu? What if Adriana and I caught it? I felt responsible. Adriana, always the level-headed one, told me not to borrow trouble. We said good bye to Delilah and drove back to our airbnb to shower off possibly infection .. even though I wore gloves and we never touched her with bare hands. (I gave her some good scruffs and cuddles with gloved hands.

But. Adriana was up all night vomiting and now has chills and can hardly hold anything down.

Bird flu or curry. I’ll never really know—just like I’ll never know if Delilah survived. And in that not knowing, I learned something. I’m not here to fix everything, to find answers or check off some moral box. I was just here, on a beach, under an umbrella faded from the sun, trying to be present, trying to be with the uncertainty.

Delilah, like these limestone rocks reminded me that life isn’t about solving every problem or getting every knot untangled. Sometimes, it’s about waves smashing you in the face, letting them wash over you, and realizing that not knowing is okay. It’s enough just to be here. Now I just have to get that thought down deep in the belly.

PS. Adriana is alive and well. Just a stomach bug. No bird flu. No curry for the culprit. Phew. I do love my Indian food.

Here’s a few pics from this wonderful trip including a quick painting of Delilah. Seems I can’t go anywhere without towing a few tubes of paint with me.

I’d love to hear some stories from you about trying to save a bird or animal, a bug..

xo Brenley