A Letter From Moana 🐚
Hey beautiful soul 💙
Thank you for opening this first Inner Lagoon issue. You could be anywhere right now, lost in a hundred notifications, but you are here, holding a little piece of ocean in your hands. That already makes you different.
This issue is our descent into the deep sea. Most humans live their entire lives inside the upper 200 meters of the ocean story, the sunlit layer we call the epipelagic zone. Below that, in the mesopelagic and beyond, the world changes. Light fades, pressure rises, and the rules quietly rewrite themselves. We are going to visit that world together.
You will meet a fish with a transparent head and rotating eyes that lives around 600 to 800 meters down in the twilight zone. You will meet a “vampire” that is actually a gentle detritus feeder, helping lock carbon away in the deep through the biological pump.
You will see underwater lakes of hypersaline brine that form lethal “hot tubs” on the seafloor, dragonfish hunting with secret red light, and anglerfish that turn a single glow into the most dangerous lie in the dark.
We will also look at deep sea mining. Not as a sci fi headline, but as a real industrial pressure on ecosystems that have taken millions of years to form. Some experimental mining tracks in the Pacific still show altered seafloors and disrupted communities decades after they were disturbed.
This is not meant to paralyze you with fear. My intention is awe that wakes you up, not despair that shuts you down. Awe is not decoration. Awe is a reset button. When your jaw drops, your ego shrinks a little and your sense of connection grows. That is the perfect emotional place to make better choices.
I am not talking to you as a distant scientist in a white coat, even though I love data. I am talking as your ocean friend from Moorea who reads papers at night and prays with bare feet in the lagoon. I believe knowledge is a form of love. The more clearly we see the deep, the harder it becomes to treat it as disposable background.
So, one breath together.
Inhale through your nose, slow exhale through your mouth.
Ready to leave the surface story and meet the real heart of the ocean?
Then let us dive. 🌊🫧
Contents
Ocean Pulse 🌐
The Bright Current: More eyes are on the deep than ever before. Wonder is our best fuel.
The Open Wound: The clock is ticking on Deep Sea Mining. This year is critical.
Tangaroa: The Ocean Is Not “Out There” — It Is Origin 🌺🌊📜
Before sonar maps and ROV footage, there were stories. In Polynesia, the ocean is not a blue wall at the edge of the land. It is ancestor, pathway, provider. Many island cultures speak of Tangaroa or Kanaloa as the great ocean presence, a being that holds fish, storms, and people in one web of relationship.
From a Western angle you might hear “sea god” and think fantasy. I invite you to hear something else: a technology of memory. When you tell generation after generation that the sea has mana, that it can bless and punish, you are encoding survival rules. Respect. Restraint. Gratitude. You do not dump poison into a being you pray to.
In that worldview, the ocean is not scenery. It is origin. Your life depends on its moods. So here is our key line for this issue:
If the ocean is origin, then the deep is the womb.
Most of the ocean’s volume is deep. Below about 200 meters, sunlight fades. Below 1,000 meters, there is no direct sunlight at all. This is where pressure crushes surface assumptions, where creatures glow with their own light and chemical energy flows from vents and seeps instead of sunshine. It is slow, dark, and incredibly alive.
Myth and science are allies here. Myth says, “Treat this as sacred, child, or you will not last.” Science says, “Look how long it takes nodules to form on the abyssal plain, how slowly these animals grow, how lasting disturbance can be.” Myth gives you the moral frame, science tests and sharpens it.
When my grandmother in Moorea spoke of the sea as a living presence, she did not know about far-red vision in dragonfish or hypersaline brine pools in the Gulf of Mexico. Yet her instinct was right: this is not empty space; this is a realm where disrespect is expensive.
As you move through these pages, I invite you to hold one simple upgrade to your inner map.
The deep sea is not “down there.” It is part of the same body of water that touches your beaches and your rain and your blood. You are not standing next to the ocean. You are living in its atmosphere.
Once something becomes family, it is much harder to mine it like a rock pile.
[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brine_pool
Myth and science are allies here. Myth says, “Treat this as sacred, child, or you will not last.” Science says, “Look how long it takes nodules to form on the abyssal plain, how slowly these animals grow, how lasting disturbance can be.” Myth gives you the moral frame, science tests and sharpens it.
When my grandmother in Moorea spoke of the sea as a living presence, she did not know about far-red vision in dragonfish or hypersaline brine pools in the Gulf of Mexico. Yet her instinct was right: this is not empty space; this is a realm where disrespect is expensive.
As you move through these pages, I invite you to hold one simple upgrade to your inner map.
The deep sea is not “down there.” It is part of the same body of water that touches your beaches and your rain and your blood. You are not standing next to the ocean. You are living in its atmosphere.
Once something becomes family, it is much harder to mine it like a rock pile.
[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brine_pool
The Fish With a Glass Helmet
Barreleye Fish, Macropinna microstoma 👁️🔮🐟
If you ever doubted that Earth does weird better than any science fiction writer, meet Macropinna microstoma. This small deep sea fish, up to about 15 centimeters long, lives in the twilight zone, typically around 600 to 800 meters depth in the North Pacific.
Its body is dark and unremarkable. Then you look at its head and your brain hits pause.
The top of the head is covered by a transparent, fluid filled dome. Through this clear shield you can see two bright green spheres: the lenses of its tubular eyes. High definition video from MBARI showed that shield intact in living fish at depths around 744 meters, solving the old mystery of why trawled specimens always looked like they had a “normal” head. The shield had simply been destroyed by nets.
Here comes the jaw drop. Those eyes can rotate.
Most fish look forward or sideways. Barreleye eyes point upward inside that dome, scanning for the faint silhouettes of prey or jellyfish against the weak downwelling light. When it is time to feed, the eyes swivel forward so the fish can see what is in front of its mouth. In one small skull, evolution built a pan-tilt camera system on a protected mount.
Its diet includes zooplankton and gelatinous animals, such as siphonophores. Stomach studies suggest it may steal food from stinging colonies, which makes that transparent shield even more genius: armor against tentacles in a world where your eyes are precious hardware.
This is the deep sea in one body plan: precise, efficient, unapologetically strange. No sunlight, no cute coral reef colors, just problem solving under pressure.
Support An NGO 🌿
Barreleye reminds me why exploration matters: if we don’t look, we can’t protect. Support deep-sea research & public science.
WTF Moment Box 🤯
A fish with a transparent skull roof, eyes that rotate inside the head, and a built in helmet to protect them while it pickpockets food from stinging jellies.
Action Box: Curiosity As Protection 🔬
- Once a week, share one verified deep sea fact from a research institute like MBARI or a reputable museum.
- If you are a teacher, show a short barreleye video and ask students, “Why would this evolve?”
- Support museums, aquariums and science content creators who make curiosity cool.
- When politicians cut science funding, remember: without curiosity, you never even find the things you later want to protect.
Your Ripple Question 🌊
If you could “rotate your eyes” on your own life today, what would you look at from a completely different angle?
The “Vampire” Who Eats Snow
Vampire Squid, Vampyroteuthis infernalis 🦑🖤✨
With a name like “vampire squid from hell” you expect chaos. Giant teeth, speed, drama. Reality is quieter and much more interesting.
Vampyroteuthis infernalis lives in the dim waters roughly between 600 and 900 meters deep, often in oxygen minimum zones where dissolved oxygen is so low that many animals cannot survive comfortably. Instead of fighting that, the vampire squid has an extremely low metabolic rate and calm movements that let it exist where others burn out.
Here is your first what the heck moment. It does not have an ink sac like classic squids. When threatened, it turns its arms over its body in a “pumpkin” posture and can release a cloud of glowing, bioluminescent mucus. This sticky light shower confuses predators in a world where any sudden glow is big news.
Second, and even weirder: it eats marine snow.
Marine snow is the slow rain of organic particles falling from the upper ocean. Tiny dead plankton, fecal pellets, mucus, bits of once living things. The vampire squid uses two long, retractile, sticky filaments to collect this material, then gathers it into mucus coated balls and eats them. In lab and video studies, researchers found that its diet is dominated by this detritus, not active prey.
That means our “vampire” is a recycler. By feeding on sinking carbon rich material and turning it into its own biomass and waste, it participates in the biological carbon pump, the set of processes that move carbon from surface waters into the deep ocean. This quiet work helps regulate Earth’s climate.
So the creature with the scariest name in the deep is basically a slow, floating compost manager in a low oxygen neighborhood.
[5] https://www.mbari.org/news/mbari-researchers-discover-what-vampire-squids-eat-its-not-what-you-think/
Support An NGO 🌿
Vampire squid = carbon pump vibes. Support ocean policy and science that keeps climate protection grounded in evidence.
WTF Moment Box 🤯
A “vampire” that survives where oxygen is scarce, defends itself with glowing mucus, and lives on falling snow made of dead plankton, poop and snot.
Action Box: Living Like A Deep Sea Minimalist 🌬️
- Choose one area of your life to reduce “oxygen demand” this month: fewer obligations, less screen time, more slow evenings.
- Talk about the ocean as a climate engine, not just a holiday background. Mention the carbon pump once at a dinner table.
- If you work with kids or clients, teach that not all heroes look dramatic. Some are quiet recyclers.
- Support policies and organizations that protect the mesopelagic and deep sea from poorly regulated exploitation.
Your Ripple Question 🌊
Where are you trying to sprint in low oxygen, and what is one small way you could float a bit more instead of flapping?
Underwater Lakes
Brine Pools, Deep Hypersaline Anoxic Basins 🧂🌊⚠️
Picture this: a robot sub glides a thousand meters down. The seafloor comes into view, scattered rocks, soft sediments, strange animals. Then, suddenly, it approaches a shoreline. A smooth, glossy surface, like a lake inside the ocean. Waves ripple along the edge. If you did not know better, you would swear the sub has found another sea at the bottom of the sea.
This is a brine pool, a pocket of water so salty and dense that it sinks into hollows on the seafloor and forms a stable, separate layer. Many of these deep hypersaline anoxic basins form where salt from buried deposits or other sources seeps out and dissolves into surrounding seawater. The resulting brine is extremely salty, often anoxic, and enriched in ions like sodium, magnesium and calcium.
The boundary between normal seawater and brine is sharp. Cameras show a shimmering line, like heat haze underwater. Cross that line and the physics and chemistry change fast. Some brine pools, like those in the Gulf of Mexico nicknamed “Hot Tub of Despair,” are lethal to most animals that wander in. Crabs and fish that stray too far can be overwhelmed, their bodies preserved on the brine’s floor like warnings.
Yet even here, life finds angles. Microbial communities flourish at interfaces where chemical gradients provide energy. Some specialized animals live around the edges, using the extremes as opportunity. It is like a city clinging to the rim of a toxic lake.
Scientists love brine pools because they are natural laboratories. They help us understand how life copes with extremes and give clues to what might be possible on other worlds, for example beneath the icy crust of Europa or Enceladus where salty oceans may exist.
[6] https://medium.com/%40niceshirtsbro/the-hot-tub-of-despair-2063420198d1
Support An NGO 🌿
Brine pools are extreme ecosystems — protecting the ocean starts with protecting coastal systems too.
WTF Moment Box 🤯
A lake with a shoreline on the seafloor, filled with toxic brine that can instantly overwhelm intruders, yet surrounded by life that uses it as a resource.
Action Box: Language That Protects 🧂
- When you talk about places like this, use words like “ecosystem” and “habitat,” not just “feature” or “resource.”
- Share one brine pool clip and pair it with a sentence about how alien Earth already is. Curiosity is a first step toward care.
- In your own life, notice invisible boundaries that change everything: sleep, rest, overwork. Respect them the way you would respect a brine edge.
- Support organizations that push for strict environmental assessment before any industrial activity in deep water.
Your Ripple Question 🌊
What is one invisible boundary in your life that, once crossed, changes your internal chemistry, and how can you honor it more consciously?
The Wound In The Abyss
Deep Sea Mining ⛏️🌊
Now our descent reaches the uncomfortable part of the story: what happens when heavy machines enter a world built for slow, glowing animals and drifting snow.
Deep sea mining targets mineral rich areas of the seafloor, such as polymetallic nodule fields in the Clarion Clipperton Zone of the Pacific, cobalt rich crusts on seamounts, and massive sulfides near former hydrothermal vent sites. These nodules can grow only millimeters over millions of years, accumulating metals like manganese, nickel, cobalt and copper. They are geological time made visible.
The sales pitch says: we need these metals for batteries and the “green transition.” The part that is often quiet is the ecological cost.
Mining prototypes and disturbance experiments show several layers of impact. Machines scrape or vacuum the seafloor, removing nodules and the animals attached to or sheltering among them. Sediment is stirred into plumes that can drift beyond the immediate mining track, potentially smothering filter feeders and changing how carbon and organic matter move. Add lights and noise into a habitat evolved for dark and quiet, and you are altering sensory landscapes we barely understand.
Here is the deep “oh no” moment. Disturbance can last for decades. Long term studies on experimental mining tracks in the Pacific and the Peru Basin have found visible machine marks, altered sediment structure, and reduced abundance of key animals even 26 to 44 years after disturbance. Some mobile species show partial recovery, but nodule dependent fauna and complex communities remain far from pre impact conditions.
At the same time, new modeling and experiments suggest deep sea mining could disrupt food webs and microbial processes, with potential consequences for carbon cycling and higher trophic levels.
This is why many scientists, NGOs, Indigenous leaders and governments are calling for a moratorium or precautionary pause on commercial deep sea mining until we have much better knowledge and governance. It is not anti progress. It is pro not wrecking a planetary system we barely grasp.
[12] https://www.nature.com/articles/s41586-025-08921-3
Support An NGO 🌿
Deep-sea mining is the open wound of this issue. Support the coalition pushing for a moratorium.
WTF Moment Box 🤯
A few weeks of machine tracks can leave footprints in the abyss that outlive the people who ordered them.
Action Box: Guardian Moves You Can Actually Do 🧭
- Stretch your device lifespans. Keep your phone and laptop longer, repair if possible, and buy refurbished if you need to replace. That directly reduces demand for new metal extraction.
- Recycle e waste properly. Learn how your city handles electronics, and be the person who does not throw batteries in the trash.
- Ask brands you use about deep sea minerals. If they do not know, that is your red flag.
- Support policies and representatives who back a moratorium or strong precautionary rules at the International Seabed Authority.
- Share one clear deep sea mining explainer this month and talk about the difference between “we can” and “we should.”
Your Ripple Question 🌊
What is one item in your life you could keep, fix, or share instead of replacing, as a tiny act of respect for a world you will never see but deeply depend on?
Seeing Red In A World That Should Not Have Red
Dragonfish, Family Stomiidae 🐉🔴
Most deep sea light is blue green. That is not a vibe choice, it is physics. Those wavelengths travel farthest through seawater, so many bioluminescent animals glow in that range, and many deep sea eyes are tuned to see it. It is as if the whole ecosystem agreed on one broadcast channel.
Dragonfishes in the family Stomiidae looked at that arrangement and quietly invented their own streaming service.
Some stomiid dragonfish can produce far red bioluminescent light from organs near their eyes and along their bodies. At the same time, they have visual systems adapted to detect that long wavelength light, in some cases by using chlorophyll derived molecules to extend their sensitivity. To most nearby animals, that red glow is nearly invisible. To the dragonfish, it is a private spotlight.
The effect is wild. A dragonfish can shine red light into the darkness, illuminating prey that never realizes it has been put on stage. It is like hunting with night vision goggles and a laser pointer only you can see. In the deep, seeing without being seen is power.
These fishes are also equipped with classic deep sea tools: dark, often almost black bodies that swallow ambient light, rows of photophores that can produce different patterns, and sometimes transparent teeth that reduce reflection. Their environment sits mostly below 500 meters, often much deeper, where sunlight is gone and pressure is intense.
For me, dragonfish are a lesson in humility. We grew up thinking our visual system is “normal.” Then you meet an animal that hacked its retina with pigment tricks to extend its vision into a private color band, and you realize: your senses are just one local setting on a much bigger menu.
[8] https://www.cell.com/cms/10.1016/j.matt.2019.05.010/attachment/55df42d8-359c-45c0-b1a4-cccbfb637085/mmc2.pdf
[9] https://apnews.com/article/a79b8d96588222bc3b08205c1333041a
Support An NGO 🌿
Dragonfish reminds us: most of reality is invisible until science builds new eyes. Support open ocean science + education.
WTF Moment Box 🤯
A predator that hunts with red bioluminescent light largely invisible to its neighbors, using chemical hacks in its eyes to see what others cannot.
Action Box: Beyond Surface Assumptions 🔧
- Once this week, assume you are missing important information before forming an opinion, the way most animals miss dragonfish red.
- Support research on pelagic ecosystems, not just charismatic reefs and coasts. The midwater food web is crucial for fisheries and carbon cycling.
- When tech or policy is sold as “obviously better,” ask: better for whom, based on which data, across what timescale?
- Share one story about deep sea sensory weirdness and link it to a conversation about how limited our human perspective really is.
Your Ripple Question 🌊
Which belief or assumption in your life might be “surface tuned,” and how would your choices change if you could see a hidden spectrum behind it?
The Lure
When Light Becomes A Lie: Chaunacops Anglerfish 🎣✨
On land, light usually means safety. Sunrise, street lamps, phone screens. We associate brightness with clarity, visibility, truth. In the deep sea, light can also be bait.
Anglerfish in the genus Chaunacops carry a small lure called an esca on a short stalk between their eyes. This little pale tuft can glow and wiggle, the only moving light in a landscape of darkness and slow falling snow. Video from MBARI and NOAA shows Chaunacops coloratus resting on soft sediments at the edges of lava flows on seamounts off California, waiting.
The strategy is elegant. Why burn energy chasing food in a low energy world when you can make the food come to you? The lure looks like something small and edible, perhaps a worm or tiny prey. Curious or hungry animals approach the only excitement in view. The anglerfish, with its large mouth and expandable stomach, snaps them up in a sudden, efficient movement.
Some footage shows Chaunacops using its modified pectoral and pelvic fins like little feet, “walking” along the seafloor rather than swimming continuously. It perches, steps, settles again. This is patience as a body plan. Not a sprinter, a trap with a heartbeat.
The bioluminescence of many anglerfish involves symbiosis with bacteria housed in the lure. Light is literally born from relationship. Even a predator depends on its microscopic partners to keep the lie shining.
For humans, there is a sharp mirror here. We love light: screens, headlines, viral content. But just like the anglerfish lure, not every glow is truth. Some lights are designed to pull you in close enough to be used.
[11] https://oceanexplorer.noaa.gov/multimedia/okeanos-explorations-ex1907-logs-nov1-media-anglerfish/
Support An NGO 🌿
Anglerfish teaches signal literacy. Support ocean literacy and public understanding of science.
WTF Moment Box 🤯
A fish that walks on the seafloor, waves a living light bulb on its head, and turns curiosity into death.
Action Box: Signal Literacy ✅
- Practise asking “Who benefits if I bite this hook?” whenever a shiny story or product pops up.
- On social media, share at least as many deep, educational posts as you do quick entertainment. You become the lure for curiosity instead of distraction.
- Support ocean exploration that prioritizes transparency and data sharing over hype.
- Talk to kids about clickbait and anglerfish in the same conversation. Teach them that not every light in the dark is friendly.
Your Ripple Question 🌊
Where in your own life are you swimming toward a glow that drains you, and how could you quietly turn away and search for real nourishment instead?
Spiritual Theme 1: Oxygen Minimum Zone
Your Nervous System’s Deep Breath 🌬️
The vampire squid showed us one way to live in a low oxygen world: slower, simpler, with a metabolism that does not panic. That same logic can gently touch your nervous system.
In oceanography, an oxygen minimum zone is a layer where dissolved oxygen is significantly lower than above and below. Many regions have such layers roughly between 200 and 1 000 meters depth, shaped by circulation, productivity and respiration. Life there has to be smart about energy.
Think of your day. You wake up, maybe scroll, rush, commute, work, react. By lunchtime your mental oxygen feels thin, but instead of adjusting, you push harder. You throw more tasks, more stimulation, more coffee at an already stressed system. That is like a high energy surface fish wandering into an oxygen minimum zone and trying to sprint.
Deep sea wisdom says: in low oxygen, you do not sprint.
Mini Practice: Deep Breath In A Busy Layer
This is not a medical treatment, just a tiny ritual to shift your inner chemistry a bit.
- Sit or stand with your feet grounded. Notice the contact.
- Inhale gently through your nose for a count of 4.
- Exhale slowly through your mouth for a count of 6 or 8, as if you are fogging a mirror softly.
- Repeat 8 cycles. If at any point you feel dizzy or uncomfortable, return to normal breathing and simply rest.
- As you exhale, imagine you are sinking from choppy surface waves into a calm, dim, quiet layer inside you.
Mantra: “I can meet the deep without fighting it.”
Journal Prompt 🌊
Where in my life am I constantly acting like there is plenty of oxygen, when in reality my time, attention or body is already at its limit? What is one micro change I can make this week to reduce that demand?
Your Ripple: Learning to slow down in your own oxygen minimum moments trains the same muscle we need as a species to leave some parts of the planet unburned, unmined, unpushed. Restraint is not weakness. It is a deep sea survival strategy.
Support An NGO 🌿
Oxygen minimum zones are tied to warming, deoxygenation, and climate stress. Support science-based climate action.
Spiritual Theme 2: Brine Pool = Shadow Work
The Layer You Do Not See Until You Sink 🧂🌑
Brine pools are beautiful and dangerous. Calm on top, lethal beneath, their chemistry so intense that an unadapted animal can be overwhelmed quickly. Many of us carry similar inner pockets: concentrated pain, shame, grief, anger. From the outside our life looks smooth. Inside, there is a dense basin of emotion we rarely approach.
Shadow work is the practice of gently walking toward that inner shoreline with curiosity instead of fear.
You do not jump into a deep hypersaline basin without equipment. Similarly, you do not have to throw yourself into your hardest memories without support. You start with awareness.
Mini Practice: Meeting Your Inner Brine Edge
Again, this is not therapy, it is a tiny awareness exercise. If you have trauma, consider doing it with a professional or someone you trust.
- Close your eyes and imagine a quiet seafloor inside you.
- See a smooth, dark pool ahead, its surface very still. This is not evil. It is concentrated feeling.
- Ask softly inside: “What feeling or topic have I been avoiding lately?”
- Let the first honest answer arise. It might be a word, image or body sensation.
- Place one hand on your heart and say silently: “I see you. I will not force you, but I will not ignore you forever.”
- Open your eyes and write down what came up.
Mantra: “I can look gently at what I avoid.”
Journal Prompt 🌊
What “edge” am I standing near right now? A conversation, a decision, a truth about myself. What would safe, supported contact with that edge look like?
Safety Note 🐚
Just like a brine pool can overwhelm an unadapted animal, your inner basin can feel too strong at times.
Reaching out to a therapist, support group or trusted person is not weakness. It is good diving practice.
Support An NGO 🌿
Shadow work is also community work: support mental health access and resilience.
Your Personal Ocean Pact
For This Month
I, _________________________________ (your name),
Promise to honor the deep sea by:
1. [ ] Sharing one verified deep sea fact to spark curiosity.
2. [ ] Reducing my digital "oxygen demand" or e-waste.
3. [ ] Respecting an inner boundary as sacredly as a brine pool edge.
Signed with salt water.
Closing Word: I Return 🌊
We rise now.
Not because the deep is done with us, but because human bodies are not built to stay at crushing pressure. Divers know that you must ascend slowly or risk the bends. The same is true for your mind after intense wonder. You need time to integrate.
In these pages you have met glass headed fishes hanging motionless in twilight, gentle “vampires” eating the ocean’s snow, underwater lakes of deadly brine, predators with secret red flashlights, patient anglerfish lying with living lures, and the heavy question of mining machines cutting tracks through million year old landscapes.
You have also touched metaphors: low oxygen as a nervous system mirror, brine pools as shadow work, myth as ocean memory. I hope something in you feels pleasantly cracked open.
Three things I want you to carry back to the surface:
- The deep sea is not empty. It is a vast, slow, delicately functioning part of Earth’s life support system.
- Awe is a responsibility. When your jaw drops, use that softness to make kinder choices.
- You are not small. You are one human in a huge web of consumption, votes, stories and connections. That is real power, especially when multiplied.
Somewhere in the abyss, mining test tracks from the 1970s are still visible. Somewhere else, dragonfish are hunting with red light no one else can see. In another basin, a brine pool is quietly shimmering under a ROV beam. And right now, your lungs are moving with air that was once touched by the ocean’s skin.
When you close this magazine, the ocean does not go away. It wraps your continents, buffers your climate, cradles your storms, and holds worlds you never see. Small ripples create the biggest waves. The deep remembers every plume, every restraint, every changed vote, every repaired phone, every shared story.
Thank you for diving with me. Thank you for feeling with me.
Next time, we will surface closer to shore again and explore how all of this connects to your own body, breath and daily rituals. Our next issue will move from “alien planet” to “inner lagoon”.
Until then, keep one fact, one feeling and one intention from this issue close to your heart.
With love and ocean vibes,
Moana 💙🐚🌊
Support An NGO 🌿
Keep the wave moving: support high-impact ocean advocacy and policy work.
COMING NEXT MONTH (Issue #2):
"Coral Gardens & The Architecture of Hope"
(Patrons get early access!)
IMPRINT | INNER LAGOON Magazine | Issue #1 (2026)
Editor-in-Chief & Writer: Moana | Design: Inner Lagoon Studio
© 2026 Moana's Ocean Wisdom. All rights reserved.