For a long time, I stopped at that simple sentence.
Out of modesty. Out of fear, too. Fear that this intimate, unsettling, almost unreal story would be lost in the noise of the world.
Today, time has done its work.
And I feel that it is now my turn to tell it. To pass it on. Because this encounter profoundly transformed the grieving woman I was.
And yet, nothing in my life seemed to lead me there.
I have always loved animals. As a child, I knew by heart the facts about wildlife from all over the world, with a special fondness for dogs. I also loved water, the sea, swimming, feeling carried. But dolphins? Not particularly.
And yet, in 2009, I decided to join the Tethys Research Institute, an organization that protects the oceans through scientific research (particularly on whales and dolphins) and raises public awareness.
So I left for the Amvrakikos Gulf in Greece, where I took part in the Ionian Dolphin Project.
There, for the first time, I discovered these cetaceans in their natural environment. We photographed, collected, and processed data. I learned a great deal about their biology and behavior, as well as the threats they face, but this approach remained intellectual.
And then, in 2010, something opened up.
My sister organized a coaching workshop and suggested I take part. Curious, and wanting to please her, I agreed. And at the end of the day, we were given an exercise: to spontaneously draw what mattered for the next stage of our lives.
Without thinking, my colored pencils bring to life a dolphin in the waves and a pair of watching eyes.
And I wrote: “Return to the essential,” which I crossed out and changed to “return to MY essential.”
I did not understand either the message or the drawing, which seemed to come out of nowhere.
And yet, it is strange -for someone like me, who does not tend to hold on to memories- that I kept, and later rediscovered, that drawing.
Perhaps it was the trace of a promise I did not yet know how to read.
The First Encounter: The Azores
Life goes on. I live in Paris, I work in the audiovisual industry, I travel a great deal.
Everything is intense, stimulating… and yet, inside me, there is a void that even therapy does not truly fill.
And then one day, I feel an irresistible call: the call to swim with dolphins. So I begin searching, reaching out to people who offer this kind of experience in an ethical and respectful way toward cetaceans and the ocean.
And I find a Swiss organization, with whom I travel to the Azores. The place is magnificent, wild, just the way I like it. We are a small group. But as we prepare for our first outing at sea, I panic. Or rather, I freeze. I lie down and slip into a kind of trance, filled with images of blood. I do not understand what is happening to me.
The departure is imminent. I have to get up and board the zodiac. I am in a strange state, yet I keep up appearances. Here, the ocean is a deep, dark blue, almost unsettling.
I cannot bring myself to enter the water. An experienced participant takes my hand: “I’ll come with you. We’ll stay together.” I choose to trust her.
And then… everything shifts.
There is that first gaze. The kind that imprints itself forever on the retina. It was surely fleeting, and yet it left me with a sense of eternity. I did not know it at the time, but like a shockwave, that dolphin opened a breach in what had long been locked away.
But what follows is even more overwhelming.
An immense sadness washes over me. Deep. Visceral. Inexplicable.
At every encounter with the dolphins, my tears cloud my mask. One thought returns, again and again:
“I’m sorry… I can’t come with you. I can’t follow you anymore.”
I do not understand anything about what I am going through. It all feels so irrational that I tell no one.
I remain alone with this mystery.
The Decisive Encounter in Hawaii
Six months later, I decide to go and swim with dolphins again. I want to understand.
This time, I travel to the other side of the world, to Hawaii.
I do not yet know that this journey will bring everything into clarity.
There, I meet a Hawaiian shaman, Kahuna Harry Uhane Jim, one of the last kahuna of the Lomilomi tradition.
During a session, after much hesitation, I finally dare to ask the question that has been haunting me. I tell him about my experience in the Azores and the sadness that has lived within me ever since: “Why am I so sad in the presence of dolphins? Why do I feel as though I have abandoned them?”
I remember his answer perfectly, it moves straight through me: “You carry in your DNA the memory of a life in which you were one of them.”
I can imagine what this may stir in some of you reading these words.
And yet…
In that precise moment, I break down in tears. I have no doubt, no more questions. There is only a deep sense of knowing. My body recognizes it. Something within me knows.
I step away to cry. Time no longer matters, because for the first time, this grief makes sense.
And from that moment on, everything changes.
Swimming with dolphins becomes a source of immense joy and this is only the beginning.
Grief and Rebirth: Bimini, 2013
In 2013, on top of the persistent unease I carry within me, I go through two losses that shatter me: my pregnancy ends, the heart of the baby I was carrying stops. And I know I will never have children. The grieving of motherhood begins here as well.
And yet, I don’t speak about it. I sink into silence and isolation. My relationship falls apart, and I slide into a deep grief-driven depression. I keep up appearances, but nothing moves me anymore. The flame of life has left me.
Until the day my sister says to me: “You’re not well. You need to do something.” It’s incredible what a simple sentence can do. It hits me like an electric shock.
I decide to travel to Laos and Myanmar, hoping to reconnect with a spirituality lying dormant within me and to discover new horizons. But I feel no real impulse. I prepare this journey on autopilot, simply to escape, to breathe elsewhere, hoping it might heal my pain.
And then, I think of the dolphins again. Instinctively, I feel they will help me. I choose to join Wildquest before leaving for Asia.
The place is perfect: everything is welcoming, soothing, and conducive to disconnection. The team is wonderful. There is yoga, holotropic breathing, delicious vegetarian food, and above all, seven hours a day at sea on a catamaran.
I keep up appearances, but sitting at the front of the boat, I remain silent, letting myself -and my grief- be swallowed by the insolent azure blue of sky and sea.
But within five days, everything changes. With each swim among these extraordinary beings, something in me begins to shift, gently.
I rise again.
The dolphins rekindle within me the flame I believed had gone out.
I cannot fully explain how.
But their presence, their gaze, their joy, their fluidity… reach a place within me that nothing else ever had. As if they were saying, “We see you.”
A Transformed Life
These beings are truly extraordinary.
The word “dolphin” comes from the Greek delphis, linked to the idea of the womb. Even today, scientists are interested in their abilities, particularly their echolocation (the sounds and ultrasounds they emit) and its potential effects on living beings. Some research, especially in the field of dolphin-assisted therapy, has observed positive effects on emotional and cognitive levels.
But beyond the hypotheses, there is the experience: their presence, their playful nature, and that unsettling feeling of being deeply seen seem to touch something essential within us.
I am convinced—having felt it in my own body (and I am not alone in this)—that they possess a remarkable capacity for healing.
This return to life marked a radical turning point. It allowed me to continue my grieving journey in a different way.
Psychotherapy, meditation retreats, hypnosis… I became a Buddhist and continued to travel, following in the footsteps of the Buddha.
I trained for four years in traditional Chinese medicine and shiatsu, then in bodywork and grief support. I even created a podcast about grief, Ainsi va la vie, in 2021.
A More Than Singular Encounter
In 2022, I return to Wildquest. I am in the water with a group of very curious dolphins.
I swim side by side with some of them when a large spotted dolphin approaches, moves away, then comes back with a troubling insistence. I tell myself I must intrigue him, and I smile to myself.
Then, suddenly, our eyes meet. Something passes straight through me: a vibration, a certainty. My entire body resonates with an inexplicable knowing: “we know each other.”
And then, out of nowhere, a flash of awareness: this is not our first encounter. Like a memory rising from another time, another place. It feels utterly unreal. I am overwhelmed by what I am experiencing.
But the sky darkens, clouds gather, and the dolphins move away.
It is time to return to the boat, to head back before the storm. And yet I remain there, in the water at the foot of the ladder, unable to climb out. Another participant is beside me.
I find myself closing my eyes and, with all my heart, asking:
“Please… if what I felt is real, come back before I leave. Please. Come back.”
I hear no clicks, sense no presence. They are gone.
But just as I am about to remove my fins, I see the silhouette of the large spotted dolphin rushing straight toward us, circling around us, then moving away again.
My heart races. I am completely stunned. Thankfully, the swimmer beside me saw everything—otherwise, I might have doubted what I had just witnessed.
Once back on the deck, still in shock, I whisper to her, “Did you see what just happened?”
She nods. An infinite gratitude fills me for this gift, as unexpected as it is improbable.
And even though this experience echoes other unsettling experiences that have happened to me, without my ever seeking or asking for them, I have never tried to delve deeper or understand why.
Twelve Years Later: Cultivating Joy
Since then, I have returned to Wildquest four times (and I fully intend not to stop there!).
Each retreat is different, and each one is filled with more and more joy. I feel at home there, in this safe and peaceful setting.
The team members are wonderful: kind, available, and above all guided by ethics and respect in their encounters with the dolphins. It is my “secret place,” a precious space that became the cradle of my rebirth.
Every encounter with the dolphins fills me with exhilaration and wonder. It is a feeling that is hard to put into words. Everything is free and fluid.
In 2025, during a breath meditation—which I had experienced before in 2013 in unbearable pain, I felt nothing but joy.
Twelve years later, after all this journey of rebuilding and self-discovery, I am filled with the joy of being alive, of breathing, of simply being here.
The dolphins helped me walk part of the path by reconnecting me to joy, our fundamental energy. I walked the rest.
And now, I have chosen to be happy, no matter what.
