The Weight of Water

There is a specific kind of stillness that only exists near deep water. It is not the absence of sound, but a suspension of it. We spend our lives building foundations on solid ground, convinced that permanence is a virtue. Yet, there are those who learn to live where the earth gives way, where the floor is fluid and the walls are made of mist. Childhood is the only time we truly understand this. We stand at the edge, watching the ripples, waiting for the surface to tell us who we are. We are not yet anchored by the heavy things—the debts, the regrets, the long winters of the soul. We are simply present, suspended between the sky and the silt. When the water is calm, it reflects everything we are afraid to look at directly. Does the water hold our secrets, or does it simply wash them away before we have the chance to name them?

Ryszard Wierzbicki has captured this fleeting suspension in his image titled Inle Lake Hooligans. It serves as a reminder of the grace found in places where the ground is never quite still. Does the silence of the lake speak to you as it does to me?