The tradition of narrative goes back thousands of years. People have told the story of their times in art, symbols and in words.
‘Architectural’, ‘organic’ are buzzwords that describe shape, and are appropriate descriptions of this sea artwork too. For me, this art of nature is also a book. With embedded shells and barnacles, on every inch is etched a story from long ago. It has been a silent witness to the ebb and flow of tides and the ferocity of tropical storms that come and go, but for how long, is something I do not know. It lies on the beach, offering a seat to the sea, shorebirds and people. It is beautiful. It is immoveable. It is tactile. It is a tangible reminder of life, in its many forms. I visit this rock every time I visit Cable Beach, Broome. It has never looked as beautiful as it was the first time I saw it, yet my pulse quickens and my gaze softens every time I cast my eyes on it. If you have ever fallen in love, you would know this feeling.
A pilgrimage here is a must for me whenever I visit Broome. It is a point of reference. I have experienced child-like joy on this beach. I have experienced renewal. Trust. Friendship. Disappointment. Uncertainty. Some visits also made me incredibly pensive. But, without exception, my visits cemented my resolve to be more human.
I have photographed this platform many, many times, erroneously thinking, it is going to give me more than it already does. It is an old friend sharing its wisdom, without judgment. It encourages me to stop and think. Time, like life, is precious, and, also like love, it is infinite. The only parameters placed on both, are the ones we impose, usually through fear and sometimes, memory. When I look at this rock structure, defined it may be in shape, but it has no parameters. It is open to all experiences. The very essence of this makes it vulnerable to the elements. Yet, it also has a strength that draws me to it repeatedly. I am drawn to people like this too. Vulnerable people who, in my eyes, are also strong. Some would describe me in the same way.
After some intense searching, I found the format for living and, some years ago, I chose to live life this way. Open to new experiences, receptive to challenges, vulnerable. It was my definition of living life on my terms. Conventional it may not be for some, but it is my choice to do it my way. I have few ties but they are secure. They anchor me when the wind gusts are strong. At other times, I float freely with a gentle tug every now and then that reminds me I am tethered, if I need to be.
I’m determined to find time in my schedule to visit this rock some time soon. And, when I do, I’ll leave some part of my life story with it, too.
a dawn bird