[This post follows my mournful one from yesterday when I describe the hacking of my Facebook account by some evil random who wants a free lunch at another’s expense.]

I went #outonaswim yesterday afternoon, as I so often do. Camera at the ready, watching, observing recording. As I pottered around, something caught my eye. A piece of plastic? It was that same vivid blue of a milk bottle top, but the wrong shape and with a broader orange and narrower white stripe. Blue and orange – direct opposites on the colour wheel; it would make a striking livery for a football team or national flag!

I returned home, downloaded the images and found out its identity. I was overjoyed to discover that this critter is a Susan’s flatworm (Pseudoceros susanae). My namesake! What are the chances? Surely, with all the hassles I’d been having with identity theft and fraud on my Facebook page, this was a positive sign.

Anyway, it transpires that Ms Susan Flatworm was previously only seen in the Indian Ocean and Indonesian waters until it was first recorded on Norfolk Island in early 2021 by John Turnbull. John was on-island with the Reef Life Survey volunteers. Yesterday is the first time I’ve seen it, in five years of trawling back and forth along the length of the reef! It just goes to show how much we don’t yet know about our tiny reef as new things get discovered all the time.

It got me thinking. In the normal way of things I would be so excited by my find that I’d want – no, have – to share it immediately with the world. But I can’t. Remember – some dude has compromised my Facebook and Instagram pages, for that read taken control of them, while I am left helpless and out of the communication loop. A tricky thing for someone who breathes all things comms, all day!

I don’t want to start a new Facebook page just yet and create a world of confusion, so I’ve dutifully reported the hack and I wait. The conversation is rather one-sided, though. The silence from Facebook is deafening. Samuel Beckett’s play Waiting for Godot comes to mind. Of course, we all know Godot never comes!

I realised then that sharing knowledge is a fundamental aspect of human interaction that enriches both the giver and the receiver. Sharing and documenting knowledge ensures that valuable information and experiences are not lost but are instead preserved for future generations.

Knowledge, in and of itself, is of no worth if not shared. For me, it is like watching the idea-ripples caused by a small pebble-fact thrown into a pond. If people know and love something, they will want to save it. If they understand something, they can formulate an idea of how to save it.

Before I could share some of my knowledge (which still isn’t a whole lot, just lots of observations) I had to realise that I know nothing whatsoever about the marine environment. I started with a zero sum. As Socrates said, ‘True wisdom comes to each of us when we realise how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us’.

Which is why I ask the questions, and share the answers. Hopefully some of them are right. Hopefully someone takes an interest.

I share, because it is in my DNA.

Maybe I will start a new Facebook page. I’m not sure when, but it will come.