Weather Report: On Beauty

Book #3 "Saltwater in the Blood: Surfing, Natural Cycles and the Sea's Power to Heal" by Easkey Britton

On Saturday morning last I checked the tide app on my phone and was pleased to see that the swell was modest and the tide was coming in all morning. It had been some weeks since I had an opportunity to go for a swim at The Guillamenes, a cove close by Tramore bay in Co. Waterford. A combination of rough seas and the onset of winter gales kept me land bound. However the ‘me’ of even three years ago would not have believed that I would go for a swim, in deep water, in November, off the south coast of Ireland.

After that experience on Saturday, the natural choice for me this week from the Resource List in Weather Report is Irish surfer Easkey Britton’s wonderful book, Saltwater in the Blood. Britton writes of her lifelong love of surfing, of the sea, and how she uses this love to work as an advocate for change in the world. She writes in poetic prose of her experience of being in the sea, about how she uses her expertise to bring this knowledge and the joys of a sea experience to others, especially those who may traditionally have had least access to it. This has included a successful project with women in Baluchistan, a remote coastline in Iran and one of that country’s poorest regions, that began in 2010. The results are captured in the 2013 documentary, Into the Sea, directed by Marion Poizeau.

Britton writes that, “In the sea, your body is weightless and your heart alive.” (p. 168), and, although I have never surfed, I can vouch for that any time I enter the sea under the cliffs at The Guillamenes.

The above image of The Guillamenes is a summer one, most definitely not November. But it was on an August morning that I first entered these waters, a little over two years ago. Several times I had gone down those steps, held the handrail, allowed the chill salt water to lap over my feet. But I could not let go of the rail and enter the water. Could not! I watched everyone chatting, swimming, at ease, and wanted so much to join them. But I could not let go of the safety of the handrail.

On my birthday two years ago I again donned my swimsuit and walked down the steps. Again I held on to the rail for dear life. Again the primitive part of my brain persuaded me that I could not do this. But this was my birthday and I did something different. I saw a swimmer coming towards the steps to exit the water and I called out to him. Would he, would he mind, I stuttered, staying with me for a few minutes if I let go of the rail? Needless to say he agreed immediately and I finally found the capacity to let go, to reach out and allow the salty, moving water to buoy me, to carry me, gasping, stroke by stroke. Afterwards I felt amazing and I was hooked. And I also experienced the benefits of another person simply being alongside, not physically supporting me but simply being alongside. And that I finally was able to ask for this support. A lesson for many things in life.

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Britton is, of course, only too aware of the skewed relationship us humans have with the more-than-human world and the negative consequences for ourselves and our ‘blue planet’ home. She writes of the healing power of the ocean but that, “instead of giving thanks for these gifts, we have turned the ocean into a commodity and lost any sense of a culture of reciprocity.” (p. 191)

She continues…

“The chemical composition of the entire ocean is changing. The increase in carbon dioxide has lowered the ocean’s pH by 30 per cent, making it more acidic and reducing the amount of oxygen. The building blocks of life inthe ocean are literally dissolving. The ocean is beginning to suffocate.” (p. 192)

Her argument is that…

“… science alone won’t save us; we need art and poetry, creative mediums of expression and meaning-making that can help people process our experiences of a rapidly changing world and connect emotionally.” (p. 193)

This book holds all of that and more - her own artwork and poetry punctuate the pages, underpinned by her scientific background and woven through with her reflections on how we might live, what being in water can teach us, if we can be open to it.

“The immersion in water, learning to be held by it and the letting go of fears [creates] the potential to connect… The sublime words of the Persian muystic and poet Hafez come to mind: ‘Let your soul unfurl its wings.’ ” (p. 97)

If you have a copy of Weather Report have you started to notice more, to note down some small surprises every day? Tell me, in the comments below, what was one thing you found beautiful today? And if you would like to, please share experiences of what water has meant to you in your life?

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