So beautiful, and thoughtful. I almost didn't click on the videos, which would have been a real loss: the first one, especially, is a gift, and especially how it ends. It is wonderful how you weave Rovelli in. It feels as though, in response to this gift of attention to fluidity, one should be offering back some kind of connection to solidity. I don't know if that instinct is correct, but in case it is, here it is, a little: the feel of the floor beneath one's feet in a house, and the earth below that, going way, way, down. The Buddha's hand in so many representations, touching the earth in the Earth mudra. (Leaving aside the actual iconography.) William Carlos Williams and importance of things. All of that here too. Thanks for the beautiful essay.
I love this post Samantha, beautiful writing. Water - I cross the tidal River Suir here most days and it’s currently very swollen from all the rain that has (yes) fallen. It’s also very brown now too from land runoff.
Bas Jan Ader's drowning was almost inevitable in such a tiny a boat. Was it a death wish? He liked to play with watery imagery, canals and streams. Strange but rather sad. Those who cared for him (and there must have been some), partners, parents, friends et al, must have realised that his mission to sale to America was doomed. The darker side of water's power, at one moment beautiful, tranquil, inviting, life sustaining, and the other, brown, swollen rivers in flood sweeping all before them, and black roaring seas waiting to engulf you. The stuff of sweet dreams and nightmares.
So gorgeous, all of it. The falling, the water, the gravity, the miraculous. Indistinct, inevitable, yet always longing for the suspension to pause just a little longer. Such a beautiful meditation on the forces that move around us, that we too are a part of.
Lovely, Sam. The thought of time passing, our lives like falling like heavy water, and the contrast with other ways in which water behave made me think about what happens at the end of our lives, after our final pratfall, when no one can see the aftermath, like in Ader's films. Perhaps afterwards we move like water still, in more mysterious, unseen ways: clouds infused with our vapour lingering as memories in the minds of those who knew us?
Thanks for your writing. I like to find a calm moment to read them and give myself a little time to think.
So beautiful, and thoughtful. I almost didn't click on the videos, which would have been a real loss: the first one, especially, is a gift, and especially how it ends. It is wonderful how you weave Rovelli in. It feels as though, in response to this gift of attention to fluidity, one should be offering back some kind of connection to solidity. I don't know if that instinct is correct, but in case it is, here it is, a little: the feel of the floor beneath one's feet in a house, and the earth below that, going way, way, down. The Buddha's hand in so many representations, touching the earth in the Earth mudra. (Leaving aside the actual iconography.) William Carlos Williams and importance of things. All of that here too. Thanks for the beautiful essay.
I love this post Samantha, beautiful writing. Water - I cross the tidal River Suir here most days and it’s currently very swollen from all the rain that has (yes) fallen. It’s also very brown now too from land runoff.
Bas Jan Ader's drowning was almost inevitable in such a tiny a boat. Was it a death wish? He liked to play with watery imagery, canals and streams. Strange but rather sad. Those who cared for him (and there must have been some), partners, parents, friends et al, must have realised that his mission to sale to America was doomed. The darker side of water's power, at one moment beautiful, tranquil, inviting, life sustaining, and the other, brown, swollen rivers in flood sweeping all before them, and black roaring seas waiting to engulf you. The stuff of sweet dreams and nightmares.
So gorgeous, all of it. The falling, the water, the gravity, the miraculous. Indistinct, inevitable, yet always longing for the suspension to pause just a little longer. Such a beautiful meditation on the forces that move around us, that we too are a part of.
Ohh to hold in present consciousness that my work is “always more about hope and longing than it ever [is] about arrival or success.”
What a marvelous meditation on water, Time, life, death, aspirations and teetering on the edge of realization. Inspired writing.
Lovely, Sam. The thought of time passing, our lives like falling like heavy water, and the contrast with other ways in which water behave made me think about what happens at the end of our lives, after our final pratfall, when no one can see the aftermath, like in Ader's films. Perhaps afterwards we move like water still, in more mysterious, unseen ways: clouds infused with our vapour lingering as memories in the minds of those who knew us?
Thanks for your writing. I like to find a calm moment to read them and give myself a little time to think.