On Tuesday I walked to the sea for the first time in several weeks. Having had a crash in energy levels, my capacity to walk any distance plummeted too. On Tuesday I walked to the sea. It was still there:
On Thursday I went back and watched. I sat on the shingle and listened. I noticed the gradually shifting tide. It changes silently. Predictably and without conscious thought, tides shift from high to low to high every 13 hours. They edge gradually forward.
I was, as always, compelled to take multiple photographs of seemingly identical images. Attempts to capture a more dramatic wave, more splash, or less, a silken smooth glass-like surface.
Questioning what is shifting and a lack of progress within me, I turn again to these pictures. Each one is unique. They are clearly different, there is obvious movement, but to a passing glance they are one and the same. The sea is never still. Its constant moving energy repeats endlessly, never the same wave twice. Imperceptible shifts and constant motion.
It is Sunday as I write this blog post and I realise that Tuesday was not that long ago. Another 13 hours and the tide will be heading in the opposite direction again, whether I’m there to watch it or not.
