The Mother Mary and Baby Jesus of Orcas: France’s Sacred Choice for a New Earth
Wikie and Keijo: A Call to France to Birth a Miracle
Some stories come once in an era.
This is one of them.
Wikie and her son Keijo, France’s last two captive orcas, have the chance to become symbols of a global rebirth—not just for their species, but for all of us. Born into tanks, raised among echoes and walls, they now wait in limbo at the shuttered Marineland Antibes, their tanks drained of shows, their future uncertain.
But it doesn’t have to end this way.
They could be the first captive-born orcas in history to be given the chance to heal in the sea.
They could become the Mother Mary and baby Jesus of the whale world—ushering in an age of reverence, redemption, and reconnection.
Why This Moment Matters More Than We Know
This is not a metaphor.
This is not an exaggeration.
This is a spiritual opportunity. And France is holding the key.
Nova Scotia—the land of New Beginnings, of “Nova” and the New Jerusalem of the Sea—has opened its arms. The Whale Sanctuary Project has prepared a first-of-its-kind coastal refuge: 100 acres of living ocean water, protected from storms, free from the gaze of spectators, designed for the emotional and physical rehabilitation of whales born in captivity. It’s the first such sanctuary in North America, created with the guidance of Mi’kmaq elders, who have long known that whales are sacred kin.
This isn’t just a better tank. This is a portal into a New Earth ethic.
And for the first time, two captive-born whales—a mother and her son—are in perfect alignment with this miracle.
Breaking the Spell of Limiting Beliefs
Some say it’s too late for whales like Wikie and Keijo. That they were born in tanks, and tanks are all they’ll ever know.
But this belief is not rooted in evidence—only fear.
No captive-born orca has ever been given the chance to return to natural waters.
No mother and calf pair have ever been released together into a sanctuary that mimics the sea.
No rewilding plan has ever combined such care, timing, infrastructure, and cultural respect as this.
We have never tried.
And so we do not yet know what might flourish.
The only thing proven is that short-sighted captivity slowly kills their spirits, and often their bodies too. The thing we have not yet proven—because we've never dared—is what might happen if we actually free their hearts.
Lessons from the Past: Survivors and Sacred Kin
There is precedent for orca release—if we care to look with hope instead of fear.
In the 1970s, orcas accidentally freed from capture pens—like Florencia “T2" and Wake “T46"—went on to not only survive, but build dynasties of children and grandchildren in the wild. Wake (up)— birthed a legacy that still swims today.
From the controversial “Whale Jail” in Russia, orcas like Vasilievna and Zina have been spotted thriving in the wild, years later. Even Keiko, the famous orca behind Free Willy, swam over 1,000 miles and began connecting with wild pods before he passed—his journey cut short not by freedom, but by poor planning and inadequate aftercare.
We must also question why these stories became cautionary tales instead of calls to improve.
These whales didn’t fail.
We did.
And now we get to do better.
The Sacred Space: Nova Scotia’s Sea Sanctuary
Port Hilford Bay in Nova Scotia isn’t just "new land." It’s sacred land, selected for its:
100+ acres of netted, deep-and-shallow waters, anchored across a pristine bay
Backed by exhaustive studies of currents, depth, and ecosystem resilience
Blessed by Mi’kmaq elders, who see whales as spirit-kin, connecting generations to the living waters
Protected from storms and industrial noise by natural topology—a cradle designed for healing.
Has the infrastructure of a care center, vet hub, and no public access—with nearby interpretation centers honoring the sacred story
Nova Scotia is more than "new scotia"—it's Nova Jerusalem of the sea, a threshold into the New Earth. The sanctuary stands as a literal New Jerusalem or New Jupiter, promising expansion, alignment with spiritual purpose, and deep ecological connection.
It is the opposite of captivity.
A sanctuary not for show, but for healing.
Wikie and Keijo would have 50 to 100 times more space than any tank. They’d feel tides, hear wild birds, even begin to echo-locate in a meaningful way again. They’d be cared for, fed, and gently guided—but always with the long-term goal of either permanent sanctuary or, should they show readiness, partial integration into the wild.
Heartbeats of the Sun
Perhaps the most beautiful miracle of all is this:
The blue whale—the largest species to grace the Earth—has a consistent median heart rate of about 6 beats per minute during deep dives, pulsing in harmony with the slowest known natural brainwave frequency: 0.1 hertz. This frequency, shared across humanity and wilderness alike, is significant in electromagnetic theory, where “the 0.1 Hz wave has a wavelength that approximates twice the Sun's diameter and is exactly ten seconds at the speed of light. Scaling the solar system with this unit of length reveals scriptural numbers long held sacred in religious traditions across the world.”
— Arturo Cusco, Celestial Music: Mind, Sentience, and Divine Tales
This is more than science—it is resonance. A heartbeat that links the largest heart on Earth to the rhythms of light, time, and ancient cosmic wisdom.
Critically, no other whale species have been tested at this level of precision—not even orcas. It’s entirely possible that orcas like Wikie and Keijo share this sacred rhythm, their own heartbeats pulsing in tandem with this deep planetary intelligence. If true, then liberating their hearts from the confines of concrete tanks isn’t just a gesture of compassion—it’s a vibrational correction. A tuning of our own moral compass toward the frequencies of freedom, life, and alignment.
To free Wikie and Keijo is to let the sacred rhythm breathe again. It is to honor a pulse that may be older than humanity, yet entirely entwined with our future.
When we liberate a whale’s heartbeat from concrete walls, we are not just freeing a creature.
We are releasing a sacred pulse into the ocean, echoing through the planet, slowing the frantic heartbeat of humanity.
This is the spiritual return of the divine maternal—the great mother and her child—reborn in the water.
To France: This Is Our Choice
We, the people and kin of France, have long been known for our revolutions.
We were among the first to outlaw cetacean performances.
We stood for liberty in the human world. Now, we are being asked to do the same for the more-than-human world.
Wikie and Keijo have already endured six long months in the drained, echoing captivity of an empty park. But perhaps these months could mean something deeper: a time of sacred gestation, like the quiet waiting of a divine birth. A moment suspended between worlds.
Let us not mistake delay for indifference. Let us recognize it as the stillness before a miracle or the Immaculate Conception of a New Earth ethic waiting to be born.
Do not let this miracle be crushed by red tape.
Let it be carried—like Moses in a basket—across the waters to Nova Scotia.
Let France become the hand that lifts, not the one that holds down.
Let Wikie and Keijo be remembered not as France’s last captives, but as the world’s first redeemed.
The New Earth Is Now
In this moment, we stand between worlds.
Between captivity and sanctuary.
Between cynicism and sacred action.
Wikie and Keijo are not just orcas.
They are our reflection, our test, our prayer.
Our Jesus Christ, our Hail Mary.
Let France be the one to set the first heartbeats free.
Let Nova Scotia be the sea that receives them.
Let the Earth exhale—and begin again.
Epilogue
Not long after this piece was written, another sign surfaced—one that felt too meaningful to ignore.
Polaris, the Pole Star, long revered across cultures as the star of destiny, guidance, and unwavering direction, resides within the constellation Dolphinis—the celestial dolphin. In ancient mythologies, this constellation was sacred, tied to salvation, prophecy, and the safe return home.
Orcas, as cetaceans, are part of the dolphin family.
This means that the very star we’ve followed for centuries to find our way—Polaris—is housed within the shape of a dolphin. And it always points North.
Of all the options France has considered for Wikie and Keijo, Nova Scotia is the most northern sanctuary—and the only one prepared to receive them with care, space, sacred respect, and readiness.
What more divine sign do we need?
Nova Scotia literally means New Scotland—but also reads as New Knowledge or even New Sacred—when viewed through the spiritual lens of Nova (new) and Scotia (from the Latin for knowledge or light). This northeastern land, home to the first sanctuary of its kind, lies directly in line with Polaris. It is a place already revered by Indigenous cultures who honor whales as sacred beings. A place protected by nature, ready to receive what is most holy.
To France, and to all of us: we are being asked to choose a direction.
Will we turn toward a future guided by reverence for life—where the most sacred pulses are freed, and our actions align with the rhythms of our planet and our cosmos?
Only the French Minister of Ecological Transition can tell—graced by divinity with the position to make this choice. May she read the signs, not just on paper, but in the stars. May she let this decision be led not by delay, but by gestation. May she make this choice not with hesitation, but with reverence to destiny.
If I—or my work—has ever helped you, please consider donating now…
This post may contain affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. If you choose to buy through one of these links, I may receive a small commission—at no extra cost to you. Every bit of support allows me to weave thoughtful, meaningful work into this space.