I’m particularly drawn to water imagery at the moment. Maybe it’s something to do with the cleansing allegory imbued with water. The ability to wash away dirt, dust, grime, sin. We use water to wake ourselves up, to slake our thirst or to cradle us into relaxation. A tonic for the soul.
Drip, drip, drip. The omnipresence of a liquid that’s essential to our human make up; part of us
I like that moment when you sink your skull under the surface and feel the water close in around you. You could be in a pool, the sea, the bath – it doesn’t really matter where. Just picture that moment when you are completely submerged. H2O molecules wrapping and curling around every atom of your being, until they have sought out every crevice and licked you clean. Hold that moment, and let the water suspend you from the sounds of the dry world. The pressure of the water hugging you, rocking you, calming you. Breathe out.
The last two weeks I have been submerged. Diving into books, and blankets, piecing together jigsaw puzzles and stealing kisses from a four pawed friend. I shut out the noise of work, emails and social media, and crawled myself whole heartedly into a quiet conch of a land where my fingers brushed the depths of idleness.
The past year has been a torrent of professional and personal upheaval. At times I found myself tossed onto rocks, or perhaps plunging into icy depths. Whirlpools threw me into the air, where I would suck in snatches of breath before splashing back down into the water, trying
Water is both our friend, and our enemy. If you wage war against the waves, they will pummel the breath and throw you gasping on the beach. A pebble beach, that bruises your knees, skins your teeth, and erodes you down to sand until you blow away.
Therefore, I invite you to resurface with me. Summon the return of sound, taste the tang of salt on your lips and let the water dry on your skin. Open your eyes and see yourself floating.
© Charlotte Arnold 2020