The Weight of Water

I remember sitting on the edge of the Bondi rock pool at four in the morning, watching a local fisherman mend his nets. He didn’t look up when I sat down, just kept his hands moving in that rhythmic, practiced dance. He told me that the ocean doesn’t care if you’re watching it or not; it just continues its work, folding and unfolding, indifferent to the clock. There is a strange comfort in that. We spend so much of our lives trying to leave a mark, to be seen, to be remembered. But there is a deeper, quieter peace in simply drifting, in being part of a motion that has no beginning and no end. It is the grace of letting go of the need to control the current. We are all just suspended in a medium much larger than ourselves, held by forces we can barely name, yet somehow, we manage to find our own rhythm in the dark. When was the last time you let yourself be carried by something you couldn’t steer?

Leanne Lindsay has captured this feeling of suspension in her beautiful image titled Silent Ballet. It reminds me of that morning at the pool, where the world felt fluid and entirely untethered. Does this image make you feel like you are floating, too?