bridget martin

’ I love rock – sheer cliffs that drop straight into the ocean, unscalable mountain peaks, pebbles in my pocket.’ ~ Tove Jansson Notes from an Island

15 July Slowly the smooth flat stones are placed one on top of each other until a cairn is formed. When the final stone is laid I make a wish. It is still and calm. It’s a rare warm day, the sky bright and blue and the sea like glass. After sailing through the Kyles of Bute we are now anchored off the small island of Inchmarnock and once we are sure the anchor is set and we’re happy that the boat is secure we row ashore to wander and gather. The water is clear and cold as we step into it and haul the dinghy up onto the stony beach.

The beach is rocky and strewn with bright green seaweed and beautiful pebbles and stones. As usual I put a few in my pocket to take back to the boat – a compulsive gathering of treasures. The only sounds are the cries of oystercatchers and gulls and of our feet on the stony ground.

I have been reading Notes from an Island by Tove Jansson and I think of her now as we walk this rocky shoreline. Of how she built a cabin with her partner, Tuulikki, on the remote island of Klovharun in the Gulf of Finland. She says of island life, ‘ At night, the long-tailed ducks sing, always from an island far away. You hear them when you get up before dawn to light a fire. Freezing cold, wildly happy, you stand at the door and see the barren land and rock in the half-light’. Her description of island life reminds me of boat life – the simplicity and solitude, the unpredictability, the sense of freedom and the closeness to nature. I have never been more aware of the weather since living on a boat.

The rocky shoreline stretches out, leaning into the sea in layers before rising up toward the forested land. The ancient, enduring, unfathomable nature of the rock is fascinating and humbling. Over millions of years they have been shaped by the world and here they rest, soft with stories. Just like people I think. We are all shaped by the world, constantly evolving, full of our own growing and changing stories, each day providing a new beginning, another opportunity. As Tove says “ you forget that happiness lies in anticipation, not fulfilment”.

Later on the boat I empty my pockets of stones and shells. These things I gather are reminders of the wild wonder of the world. The silent beauty. The elusive spirit. I try to capture it by drawing and painting and collaging – an attempt to hold onto the wild.

20 August The sky is a palette of greys shot through with the occasional streak of blue. Heavy rain is alternating with bursts of bright sunshine and the wind is whipping up white horses in the loch. A walk through the woods offers some shelter. The green is vivid but the trees are starting to show signs of autumn and blackberries are ripening. This woodland path opens out onto a stony beach and again I think of Tove and her love of the wild. She knew that was where the magic lived, where “the clocks stopped quite a while ago and it’s a long time since you wore shoes”.

Again I come back with treasures and again I try to hold onto the wild. In doing so I’m forgetting that all life is wild . We are elemental. No need to grasp so tightly. We just have to remember how to listen for its call. Meanwhile I continue to stitch fragments, layer memories, remember dreams and look out for the unexpected. All the while listening.