I live within walking distance of the beach,
and the sea is one of the first things I see when I open my curtains. I love
that view because it is always changing. Some mornings the sea is flecked with
gold and red, at other times the sky is stormy grey, with the thinnest line of
sunshine streaking down through the clouds. On a calm night, when the moon is
full, the surface of the water looks like silk. At other times, it’s wild and
choppy and I fall asleep to the sound of a distant foghorn blaring its ghostly
warning to passing ships.
Since I’ve been living here, the sea has
entered my subconscious like an unseen presence. Mermaids, seal wives and
selkies sail through my stories. Even the poems I’ve intended to be about other
things often feature the sea or water as a metaphor. It’s as if it has become
part of me.
The sea, of course, is full of symbolism. At
its primordial mythological level, the sea represents the watery chaos that
existed before the world was formed. The first book of the Bible describes ‘formless
depths’ – the Hebrew word is ‘tehom’, from which the chaos monster Tiamat also
takes root.
Water is
death
If water represents chaos, it is also a
harbinger of death. I was born in Southampton and most of my ancestors were
sailors. From my nan’s tiny cottage (now long-since demolished) overlooking the
busy docks, sons, uncles and brothers would depart, often for years, with no
guarantee of return. Along the walls of every major port are plaques
commemorating the names of those whom the sea has claimed as her own.
Water is
life
Paradoxically, water is also the stuff of
life. Millenia ago, our ancestors crawled from the sea onto dry land. We are 65
per cent water and need water to survive. The human body can go 30 to 40 days
without food but only two to three days without liquid.
Flux and
flow
In mythology, water is often depicted as
feminine. The pagan symbol for women resembles a chalice cup. She represents
the ebb and flow of female intuition and emotion, drawn by the monthly cycle of
the moon. She is also the element of imagination, of high adventure and
fairytale. Perhaps this is why, when faced with the sea, my first inclination
is to sing.
Water is the element of emotion, our tears
spilling through from soul to reality, the expression of love, or loss, of
great joy or unspeakable pain. When words will not do, our tears speak.
Tears have
healing powers
A woman who was a sinner poured precious oil
over the feet of Jesus with perfume and wiped them away with her tears, and
found herself forgiven. Like the ocean,
tears are salt water. Our tears, when we cry, contain a chemical called
‘lysozyme’, which washes away bacteria and prevents infection. After crying,
our breathing and heart rate decrease, and we enter into a calmer emotional
state. Crying releases stress hormones and other toxins and stimulates the production of endorphins, our body’s natural pain
killer.
Water transforms
Almost all religions use water in
their purification rituals, to symbolise cleansing, both inward and outward.
When we are cleansed, we are transformed and made ready to encounter the
divine. To enter the waters is a metaphorical drowning, a little death, a
baptism, a rebirth. In fairytale, water is liminal, having the power to cross over
worlds. Humans discover new lands and dream of adventure on distant shores; mermaids
lose their tails on the sands to become recast as wretched human lovers; seals shed
their coats to dance naked and free in the moonlight.
Water transcends
The tongues of the waves sculpt
new landscapes, carve out rocks, transform our hard and brittle edges to soft
sand. So water is at the same time destructive and constructive, building up
and knocking down. The clamour of waves upon the beach calls us to greater
depths – of emotion, of feeling, of spirit. The salt of the water, which echoes
our own tears, invites response.
Water never stands still
Like water we are in a constant
state of creative flux and flow. Ideas and energy pour through us, are born and
reborn through words, paints and sounds. Like the waves, we are constantly
pulled this way and that, never settling nor stopping. There are hidden depths
beneath – places in which, if nurtured, beautiful things might live and grow,
pearls of great price caught beneath the weeds. It is our job, as creators, to dive
deep and dig them out, to polish them up as best we can, and hold them to the
light for everyone to see.
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