Musing #1: The Flow of Water
Water: a liquid essential to all life on earth in one form or another. Watching bodies of water that flow is inspiring to say the least. The freedom with which it moves yet still needing to move as one nation of droplets to achieve this. There are many tangible & theoretical things emulating water; liquids, metaphors and lessons.
Thin, translucent fabrics that embody free-flowing motion in different ways. Silk sheets emulating the ocean’s gentle waves and chiffon dresses that fall elegantly as a waterfall descends over the landscape of curves on the feminine form.
Words such as cocoa, floral, guarana and bouba flowing out of the mouth, taking you to a hammock overlooking the ocean on a beach with soft sand under your feet. Extract, sparks, carrot and kiki transport you to an evening in the city with hectic rain dashing down in front of you and audibly crashing on the ground which causes a foul mood for some, but sometimes, just sometimes, the chaos brings a peace as the surroundings that demand to be heard becomes a murmur to the thoughts waltzing through your mind.
And now the primary stimulus to open my notes and start typing about my love of water: the movement of the body. How some dance styles are calculated movements of joints in the body to a beat, strict in rules and requiring a sharp eye to decipher who is performing the moves precisely… as opposed to letting the water in your body flow to the rhythm of the sounds surrounding your being, swaying from side to side, being free with the motions that your body feels is right. How mesmerising is the human form where both of these scenic reels can be imagined in your eyes coming from one being. When someone embarks on a journey to learn more about the body through dance, they are often encouraged to stop, take in the music and allow the rhythm to drive your body through seemingly altered time. Just like a paper boat is placed atop a stream and allowed to sway with the water before running alongside others; slowly becoming one, indistinguishable entity.
I love water, I was blessed with the opportunity to spend seemingly endless nights and mornings under the pleasant winter heat in a tropical desert climate, moving my body through the open waters. Keeping myself afloat in one position, cutting through the water to travel through every inch of what I could muster, or simply laying on my back and letting the waves take me wherever they wanted to as I let the ocean act as my bed of comfort. The stinging seawater healing wounds and sore muscles from playful accidents, pushing myself each morning to make the most out of the limited days I would have to build my relationship with the waters surrounding me, and watching from afar when not in it longing for the scene before me to ingrain an image in my mind.
Quizzes taken on a whim in my years past identifying what element I am always coming back as water instead of earth, fire or air, remind me of the unidentified bond I have always had with it, though I remain unsure of the origin story as my childhood wasn’t one surrounded by water. Walking past a stream, canal or river always has and still does make me stop in my tracks, turn to face it in awe and lay still in my journey for a moment, either mourning a stagnant, littered, linear puddle which has been neglected, or praising the clean flow of water that runs through the natural or landscaped earth.
Oh how I long for the days to be able to wear my bright, purple swimsuit and take to the waters again, allowing myself to feel weightless and practice my water bending skills below the surface as I push the water away in cupped hands. In the meantime, I will continue to keep a close eye on the water around me, and peer up into the sky as the sea of clouds empty their banks of water droplets every few days, breaking up the summer heat.
