The sea, the sea

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.
Isak Dinesen

I confess that I am deeply in love with the sea. The tides pull on me in the same way that the moon pulls on them. I have a clock in my house that tells me when the tide is flooding or ebbing. I look at it constantly. Tomorrow morning I will be back at the water's edge - watching sunrise and high tide combined. What a glorious combination.

At times in my life when I need to be alone I go to the sea.  When I want to think about my father I will watch the ebb and flow of the tides.  When I can't be at the sea I dream about it.  I dream about vast beaches on distant planets where the tide only comes in and goes out every 500 years.  I dream about the smell of the sea air on those planets.  A vague and elusive memory that grows with huge noise of crashing waves when the ocean turns and begins its long journey back to the shore. 

There is no reason for my addiction that I can offer as an explanation.  I do not sail and it has been years since I last caught a fish.  Perhaps it is the power and the fury of a storm that enchants me.  Perhaps it is the deep dark beauty.  Perhaps it is the restless nature of the sea, constantly moving like a forgotten warrior searching for his one true love.  Whatever the reason, it has a hold on me and I cannot tear myself free, nor do I want to.

Difference of opinion

mel·an·cho·li·a

ˌmelənˈkōlēə/

noun

deep sadness or gloom; melancholy.

This is a pretty standard definition of melancholia.  I'm not sure I agree.  I have heard many people describe my photographs as having an air of melancholy to them.  That pleases me because that is what I feel when I am shooting.  I want to capture a depth to places and scenes that is perhaps missed by the causal observer.  The photographs have to have weight and emotion.  They must touch a chord with the viewer.  I want them to leave an imprint rather than be transitory. 

tran·si·to·ry

ˈtransəˌtôrē,ˈtranzəˌtôrē/

adjective

not permanent.

Maybe I am lost in my words.  I listen to music that could not be described as happy, or shiny, but could certainly be described as beautiful.  Ludovico Einaudi for example - I would say there is an air of melancholy to his music.  It is perhaps hauntingly beautiful.  That could be description I am looking for but I am searching for one word to sum this feeling up.  The closest that my vocabulary takes me is melancholia.

It would seem therefore that I have a difference of opinion.  With whom I'm not sure.  There may be some wisdom out there that can enlighten me and provide me with the word that I need to fill this lexical void.  If I was less bothered about the word (and about sounding pretentious), I'm sure I would settle with a description of my photographs as 'beautiful'.

beau·ti·ful

ˈbyo͞odəfəl/

adjective

pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically.

The Grand Scheme

Why are we here?  This is a question I often ponder upon.  What is the significance of our pale blue dot, spinning in space, seemingly on our own.  It is practically inconceivable that we are just freaks of nature and I suspect this is where the concept of Creation comes from.  

If you are a Big Bang Theory supporter (and I'm not talking about the television show) then you must believe that in that moment when nothing became everything, somewhere in that macroscopic mayhem existed an atom of organic matter. Perhaps it was just the one, perhaps it was many, but there must have been at least one.

Everything that we know and will ever know was created in that one moment.  And from that one atom (or group of atoms), all of humanity was conceived, together with the plant and animal kingdoms.  It was all thrown into space at colossal velocity and 13.82 billion years later we find ourselves here.

Quite possibly, those atoms of organic matter were hurled in many different directions.  Maybe, in other corners of the Universe, the correct conditions also exist for life.  It may not quite be in the same form as us, but it may exist.  Is it perhaps a little arrogant to believe that we are the only ones?  I'm not sure.

I think the human mind is not developed enough to really consider the vastness of the question 'Why are we here'.  We must just accept that we are and push our understanding as science and intellect evolves.  Maybe some day we will understand the question better, but we may never have the full answer.

Unless of course you believe in Creation.  Then all things fall neatly into place.  We were made in God's likeness and he designed this garden amongst the depths of space for us to dwell in.  That is a little easier to contend with.  We don't have to wrap our small brains around time and space and distances beyond compare.  We can attribute all that we are and all that we see to a higher being.  Structured religion also provides many answers to the fundamental question I posed at the outset.  It is hard to say whether any of those answers is truly satisfactory, but I am not qualified to really comment on this in any depth.

Whatever the truth, it is startlingly clever.  What has been created is truly beautiful.  I hope to share my view of some of that beauty with you.