Water.
Water.
Water.
As I lose myself in the dreamy brush strokes of an aquamarine sea, I ponder the yearning of the ocean. Is it my yearning or the ocean’s?
Wherever we humans have chosen to call home, we have needed a water source close by to survive. Is it basic survival that creates this yearning? Or is it instinct?
I feel there is something deeper, beyond words. I feel a sense of home-coming when I’m by the ocean, a sense of peace, of belonging. Could this be because we spend the first nine months of our lives in a water-esque world? I feel a sense of security and stability when I hear the nearby river on its way to the ocean - always present, always moving, forever changing. When there is no water close by, I look up to the sky, and the clouds remind me to trust in process, in change, to trust in life.
I participated in a water ceremony in Ecuador with local indigenous people; at the end of a night of vigil, the shaman spoke passionately on the sacredness of water for over an hour before we shared the precious, life giving nectar; I understood water as never before. It is life. What water gives us, yet asks for nothing in return! Or does it ask for something in return?
When I have lived in areas of water scarcity, the sacredness is acute. I feel I understand something more of our relationship to water. In the UK however, it’s harder to remember. Of course, my experience will differ to yours, dear reader. I ask you, what is your relationship to water? How do you feel when you are beside the ocean or on the bank of a river? How do you feel when you drink a glass of fresh water? How do you feel when you flush clean water down the toilet?
Water.
Water.
As I lose myself in the dreamy brush strokes of an aquamarine sea, I ponder the yearning of the ocean. Is it my yearning or the ocean’s?
Wherever we humans have chosen to call home, we have needed a water source close by to survive. Is it basic survival that creates this yearning? Or is it instinct?
I feel there is something deeper, beyond words. I feel a sense of home-coming when I’m by the ocean, a sense of peace, of belonging. Could this be because we spend the first nine months of our lives in a water-esque world? I feel a sense of security and stability when I hear the nearby river on its way to the ocean - always present, always moving, forever changing. When there is no water close by, I look up to the sky, and the clouds remind me to trust in process, in change, to trust in life.
I participated in a water ceremony in Ecuador with local indigenous people; at the end of a night of vigil, the shaman spoke passionately on the sacredness of water for over an hour before we shared the precious, life giving nectar; I understood water as never before. It is life. What water gives us, yet asks for nothing in return! Or does it ask for something in return?
When I have lived in areas of water scarcity, the sacredness is acute. I feel I understand something more of our relationship to water. In the UK however, it’s harder to remember. Of course, my experience will differ to yours, dear reader. I ask you, what is your relationship to water? How do you feel when you are beside the ocean or on the bank of a river? How do you feel when you drink a glass of fresh water? How do you feel when you flush clean water down the toilet?
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