A brother, a sister and a friend
This morning whilst doing my usual work a memory popped into my mind from probably 8 years ago. The memory often reoccurs and I decided to make a note of it to cherish and to flesh out the memory story later on. Not long after I wrote it out I recieved a notification for one of Hana’s latest posts, plugging into the earth and the sun. Her writing and my memory are entirely different yet I felt so many magnetic parallels and connections—of the elements as energy sources and of vision changing—that I felt compelled to write it now.
A brother, a sister and a friend are melting into the timelessness of a cloudy cornish Sunday. They decide they need to get out of the house and so they go walking around Carn Galva. As they are walking to the carn their feet energetically pace the earth, footsteps are kisses from your body to the earth, but these footsteps are like taking giant fervent gulps of fresh air. Like when you are caught in a salty thrashing wave that tumbles your whole body, and when you break the surface of the water you breathe as though you haven’t breathed in weeks. They climb to the top of the carn and let the wind blow the cobwebs from their hair. It whips and whistles as it dives into their ear drums like strong currents of electricity and shooting stars, passing through one ear and out the other, coiling and dancing as it exits. In that moment they feel all the elements all at once. The soles of their feet connect with the granite below them, power surges through the earth and holds them firmly as they stand as fragile flower stems atop the high and windy whipping carn. On the horizon they see the sea and feel the vibration of the low rumble of waves and shingle rising and falling. A warm fire of being alive is lit in their hearts.
A long while later they climb down from the carn and wander through the ancient fields. They stumble into a stone circle they had forgotten about, its small and hidden but the environment is the most open it could possibly be. In unison and without conversing they all lie down, as though the same thought popped into each of their minds simutaneously. The grass below them is that lovely bushy grass that only grows by the cliffs, with thick waxy stems and playfully sharp tips. Truly hardy but truly comfy. The brother, the sister and the friend let their eyes gently close as they once again feel for the elements. Or perhaps this time they let the elements feel them. They don’t sleep but they slumber without stirring, and later when they open their eyes their vision is changed. Instead of the skies grey and white cast and the lands rich array of greens, the sky is pink tinged and red and the land has twisted to all shades of blue. Their movements together cracked open a hole in the universe, magic happens and a new, shared perspective is born.
My heart stings when I think of the sensations of Cornwall, the humid air of my childhood, the salt that covered our skin and the air that let us grow free.