We have returned from three glorious weeks at the Wild Coast, feeling replenished and at peace with the world.
Most days were soft and meditative, filled with winter sunshine and the hushed unfolding of waves on the sand.
I learned a new word from Mo yesterday.
Apricity: The word apricity represents a simple and familiar yet a very specific phenomenon - the sun's warmth on a cold winter's day. (Click on the word to read further)
It seems appropriate to introduce the word here since, the world and his wife..... dog.....goat and cow, within a kilometer's radius, seemed to wander down to the beach to stand in the sun, .....relishing apricity on a winter's day.
I walked around this bull several times, clicking my camera and he remained unperturbed. Just a twitch of tail and ear.
I can't imagine our holidays without the resident dogs. They add much joy and tail wagging to our days.
The sea poems of Pablo Neruda also seem appropriate here. Follow the link if you wish to read a few more.
The Sea by Pablo Neruda
I need the sea because it teaches me.
I don't know if I learn music or awareness,
if it's a single wave or it's existence,
or only it's harsh voice or it's shining
suggestion of fishes and ships.
The fact is that until I fall asleep,
in some magnetic way I move in
the university of the waves.
It's not simply the shells crunched
as if some shivering planet
were giving signs of it's gradual death;
no, I reconstruct the day out of a fragment,
the stalactite from the silver of salt,
and the great god out of a spoonful.
What it taught me before, I keep. It's air
ceaseless wind, water and sand.
It seems a small thing for a young man,
to have come here to live with his own fire,
nevertheless, the pulse that rose
and fell in it's abyss,
the crackling of the blue cold,
the gradual wearing away of the star,
the soft unfolding of the wave
squandering snow with it's foam,
the quiet power out there, sure
as a stone shrine in the depths,
replaced my world in which were growing
stubborn sorrow, gathering oblivion,
and my life changed suddenly:
as I became part of it's movement.
Need I say, this weathered plank and broken shell returned home with me
"Among the things the sea throws up,
let us hunt for the most petrified,
violet claws of crabs,
little skulls of dead fish,
smooth syllables of wood,
small countries of mother-of-pearl;
let us look for what the sea undid
insistently, carelessly,
what it broke up and abandoned,
and left behind us."
- Forget about Me by Pablo Neruda
More chiton shells to add to my collection
Limpets doing what limpets do.
An ox drawn sled (made out of branches) carries fire wood home
Cows in the mist
Fish for supper.
A misty end to the day
The SILVER SUMMER show begins tomorrow at FILLINGDON FINE ART in PIDDINGTON, UK. Details here. I have a few pieces on the show, including the tall story panel below.
"Stop measuring days by degree of productivity and start experiencing them by degrees of presence." - Alan Watts
I love to walk in nature and I especially love to walk alone. In South Africa .... or where I live anyway .... there are not many places one can do so safely. At the wild coast I walk alone for miles and as long as I keep the fishermen in sight (even just a dot on the horizon), I feel safe. It's a time that I unwind completely with not a worry in the world.
"It's when I'm walking that I come closest to an affection for myself." - Shawna Lemay
During the build up to my daughter's wedding we promised ourselves a healthy walking holiday at the wild coast once everything quietened down. Unfortunately that never happened because our fox terrier was badly savaged by our bull terrier. Her pelt was almost ripped right off her body resulting in an air pocket between flesh and fur. It's been over a month that her little body has been battling against the infection she developed under her skin but today I can finally say she has turned a corner in her recovery.
During this time of watching over her, whilst she fought for her life, my thoughts have taken me to our favourite beach walks for solace.
I found a few quotes on Shawna Lemay's blog that sum up why I find these walks such a balm to my spirit ......
"There is an element of repetition in the act of walking where you can forget. And there is a tiredness. A peacefulness. I think that when you are really alone you have a fragility. The feelings are more intense. You have more of a feeling of the eternity of things." - Frederic Gros
"And walking with a camera is yet another kind of walking. One's looking becomes more delicate, sharper, refined. One loses oneself in the walking, and then is lost again, while one focuses in on the leaf, twig, or dried seed pod that has attracted one's attention." - Shawna Lemay
I loved this post on Shawna's blog.
One can walk for days on a wild coast beach and never see a soul other than cattle and goats and perhaps the occasional herdsman with his dog.
For me, it's a walking meditation
kicking up water in the shallows for miles
dreaming of the totems I will carve
incorporating the pebbles and driftwood I've gathered
Catching fish for lunch every day makes one feel healthier
"To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter.... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life." - John Burroughs
"The kind of dog you have will change the perfume of your walking. The degree to which your dog stops to sniff and mark territory, the pace you keep ...... " - Shawna Lemay
"Walking is important to my practice, a way to begin. It opens the route between the external world and the inner world of the studio. On my ritual paths, I take notice of changes that occur -- daily and seasonally -- recording what attracts my attention, 'navigating' my way through time." - Kim Kopp
"Walking..... is how the body measures itself against the earth" - Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A history of walking.
An idyllic week at the wild coast
We had Long Beach to our selves every day
Not another soul to be seen
Hours of walking, fishing and foraging
I'm drawn to the broken shells
especially the black turbans
which peel back to reveal spirals of rust
BREAKAGE by Mary Oliver
I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and scarred --
and nothing at all whole or shut, but battered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture
gone.
It's like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
full of moonlight.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
Our room had a little garret above it
which we named the eagle's aerie
We did a lot of holiday reading there
I savoured Donna Watson's exquisite book
The Beauty of Nothingness
and lost myself in several novels.
"Of course reading and thinking are important but, my God, food is important too." - Iris Murdoch, The sea, the sea
The Loeries woke us this morning. We couldn't have asked for a more gentle way to slip back into city life after our week away.
We've just returned from our annual Wild Coast holiday where we woke every morning to spectacular sunrises and the cries of Fish Eagles and Oyster Catchers.
This is the view from our bungalow. I would need to be a poet to describe the beauty of this place ..... and since I'm not, I'll share a few photos and a story or two about chance encounters and new friends.
Otter tracks up the dunes
While M fished I had time to try my hand at land art. Nothing serious but quite absorbing all the same.
These flowers look like they come from another world.
We met many caring people who shared our enthusiasm for the Wild Coast. Two young vets on honeymoon presented me with a bar of Belgian chocolate on my birthday as well as a huge driftwood log (because they knew I loved wood). They hauled it along the beach, floated it across the estuary in a canoe and dragged it up the hill to our veranda where we found it when we returned from our walk. I was so touched by their thoughtfulness! So if you are reading this, Robbie and Taneale ...... the log is in our courtyard reminding us of you.
One evening I heard my husband talking to the couple who had moved into the neighbouring bungalow. They spoke with American accents and had visited all my favourite places so I joined them on the patio. Slowly it dawned on me that I actually might know who these people were. Several months ago a a reader of Art Propelled had asked me to email a few travelling tips to her friends who were thinking about visiting South Africa. What an amazing coincidence that we should meet them by chance and spend a lovely evening together before they left on the next leg of their trip. Synchronicities often seem to happen when we're on holiday. I suppose that's the magic about taking time out, away from home.
More Wild Coast pebbles to add to my cache..... a reminder of the happy days spent gathering them.
