Lessons from water…
“Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.”
One foot, metronomically, placed after the other; the rhythm matched only by the lapping tide. The small, curving bay sweeps round before me. Ahead, in that liminal space between shore and water, wading birds dart here and there, dabbing at the sand. The blustery wind sends the clouds scudding across the sky, intermittent halos of light as they cross in front of the sun. Wind whistles through the backdrop of trees, the song punctuated by gulls, shrieking and squawking. In the distance, I hear the faint sounds of a chain saw.
I look back; my footprints sink into the wet sand before disappearing in a swirl of water. I walk on, heading for the gap in the trees. Above the sound of the waves comes the rippling, tinkling of running water. In between the dunes, with their dancing crests of marram grass, a stream makes its way down to the sea, snaking a path across the sand and shingle. I stop at the carved edge of the sand, debating on the depth of the water - will it come over my boots? I scour the surface, looking for a shallower crossing point. Initially tentative, but gaining confidence with each step, I wade through the water. Stepping onto the sand, I turn to admire the patterns made by the water: flowing, weaving, snaking around the stones, determined to find a way.
Rocks scattered in the sand make a suitable resting place: I drink my coffee, the steam floating away on the wind. I watch as the two pools of water meet and mingle, swirling, eddying, becoming one. A dog barks, rousing me from my reverie. Laughter carries on the breeze. I smile, watching as the dog launches himself into the lapping waves after a ball: no hesitation, just straight in… I stand, gather my coat and mug and head for the trees, making my way through the rustling, back to the road.
“Water is the most perfect traveller because when it travels it becomes the path itself!”
I don’t know about you, but I have default ways of beginning my artistic process…which, for the most part, leads to the same results. Watching the water, as it laps, ebbing and flowing, as it trickles and ripples, carving a way through, round, and over before mingling and becoming one, was a lesson in going with the flow, but finding a way…
Sometimes I get so hung up on producing ‘finished’ work, I forget to have fun, to experiment - to go with the flow. And, on following that whim, sometimes we create new paths, hitherto unseen, unheralded…but exciting! What a lesson that was, observing the water…
Lessons from Water…