Alexander, as a sailor the sea was my second home for many years. I loved standing on the bridge of a ship, navigating the open ocean, and watching the immensity of it all. I could see storms coming from hundreds of miles away and watch them grow in intensity as they approached us. "Standby for heavy seas!" The ship rolling with the rhythmic motion. In those moments a man realizes how very small he is. It is a thing of tremendous beauty.
Thank you so much for this. I agree wholeheartedly, too, that reminder of how small we actually are is something which can make us grow in unexpected ways. The sea and, especially, stormy seas are truly awe-inspiring. The storms you must have witnessed! Immense is really the word, too, how vast and powerful the oceans are, and how much we rely on them, whether we know it or not.
I very much feel the same about storms, the stormy sea leaves me in awe every single time. The very first time I came to the north coast of Ireland (having no idea I'd be moving to live here just two months later!) was on a very stormy night. I remember the ferries were cancelled for two days, street lamps bent under the force of the gale coming from the Atlantic, and we watched the raging sea in a place poetically known as the Pan's Rocks. It stayed imprinted into my mind ever since and to this day it's one of my favourite parts of the northern coast. Often rearranged by the waves, always giving gifts, be it physical ones like a hagstone, visual like watching dolphins in the distance or sensory like the way the breeze touches my face or the scent of the seaweed fills my lungs.
My favourite finds are skate egg cases. The first and biggest one I found was a spotted ray. I'm saddened I don't see more of them, instead there's an ever-increasing amount of plastic that I try to remove the best I can.
The sea tells such powerful tales. Especially the stormy sea, the gifts she can leave and the things she can take work as such a strong metaphor for our lives.
You know, I've never been to Ireland!? Which is ridiculous, really, and one day will be remedied. I do recognise your description of that first visit of yours, though, witnessing the power of the storm and waters is something I have loved for decades, ever since moving to Orkney as a child.
I have a large collection of egg cases and beachcombed treasure, all kindly housed by my long-suffering sister. One day, I look forward to actually being reunited with them, remembering where they were found, and when (many are labelled, some are not). Sometimes, when walking a shore, I like to imagine what it would have been like thousands of years ago--no plastic, more driftwood, more natural treasures. I have several passages about this in the Mesolithic book I mentioned, which starts on the waters and ends a similar way.
Thank you so much for your words here, I really appreciate them, and apologise that it has taken me so long to reply.
And yes, I often have similar thoughts on how people perceived our surroundings thousands of years ago.
Last spring and summer I often sat outside late at night, just soaking in the clear skies until I froze, and I was often feeling this deep awe and sorrow at the same time. I can still occasionally see the Milky Way and it's so breathtakingly beautiful, it triggers an almost trance-inducing state, yet so many people nowadays barely see the stars. I think I wrote about this last summer. Most of our civilisation is now completely alienated from a natural environment. For our ancestors, nothing but a complete darkness existed, every single star was visible in every direction. I imagine people sitting around a bonfire, looking at the skies and facing the same awe, weaving stories about what they see, translating it to megalithic monuments and art. No doubt they felt the same about the sea and its vastness.
Goodness, we've lost so, so much, it's heartbreaking.
Never apologise. Internet communication can and should wait.
I wouldn't be surprised if we have some mutual friends and acquaintances, it's a small world! Don't even get me started on scientific journals, ugh... The prices are absolutely ridiculous and a huge barrier to people getting into archaeology (and science in general). I remember needing certain articles when I was writing my MA thesis and some of them were £30-£80 per article. Daylight robbery and nothing else. Needless to say, I didn't buy any. Some of them I managed to pirate - zero regrets. I'm a profoundly anti-paywall person. Many universities give you access to a couple of journals as a student, but it's just not enough.
Same goes for book prices. Earlier this month the long awaited Oxford Handbook of Mesolithic Europe was released, at a staggering price of £190 for the hardcover version. No paperback version. I don't know how can this be justified, no matter the topic, the authors and how groundbreaking the work is.
Prices like this are prohibitive to everyone but the rich, and I can't help but say the same about archaeology in general. During my studies it was very palpable how inaccessible archaeology is to someone like me who had to scramble to survive and colleagues whose parents were paying for their dig experiences abroad. They filled their CVs with digs and met big names in the world of archaeology while I was working in pubs and warehouses to be able to buy food and pay student accommodation. Then you finish uni and people tell you you need to do volunteer digs to gain experience because your CV is empty - yet the choice is between volunteering and being homeless. Archaeology is deeply classist and elitist. It was hard not to feel bitter about it. I no longer dwell on it though.
I'm actually currently looking into entry level positions in a different field - nature restoration and conservation. I think doing what we can for our environment is the most urgent work of our times. I feel this was a natural progression for me given my spirituality and politics. The pay is just as poor as it is in field archaeology, but I suspect the satisfaction would be rewarding enough (as much as we can feel rewarded within capitalism).
Also, I'm intrigued by your Mesolithic-themed novel! If you ever decide to pursue it further in any form and need any archaeological input to help with building your narrative and landscape, don't hesitate to send me a message, I'd be happy to share resources.
Ah, this is wonderful, thank you! Ever since leaving university, I've carried a grudge against the fact that so many (but not all, thankfully) academic journals paywall their work. It makes no sense to me.
I will certainly return to this novel at some point. No idea when, but it does whisper to me, quite often and, when I do, I will also certainly get in touch! Thank you! You may regret this, when one day I am sending you yet another edit...! Ha.
I'm sure we have mutual friends IRL incidentally, people I miss from my undergraduate days in Sheffield, who have stayed on in the field (or lab, or university).
Alexander, as a sailor the sea was my second home for many years. I loved standing on the bridge of a ship, navigating the open ocean, and watching the immensity of it all. I could see storms coming from hundreds of miles away and watch them grow in intensity as they approached us. "Standby for heavy seas!" The ship rolling with the rhythmic motion. In those moments a man realizes how very small he is. It is a thing of tremendous beauty.
Thank you so much for this. I agree wholeheartedly, too, that reminder of how small we actually are is something which can make us grow in unexpected ways. The sea and, especially, stormy seas are truly awe-inspiring. The storms you must have witnessed! Immense is really the word, too, how vast and powerful the oceans are, and how much we rely on them, whether we know it or not.
Thanks again for these words and for reading.
A beautiful rumination on sea 🌊
I very much feel the same about storms, the stormy sea leaves me in awe every single time. The very first time I came to the north coast of Ireland (having no idea I'd be moving to live here just two months later!) was on a very stormy night. I remember the ferries were cancelled for two days, street lamps bent under the force of the gale coming from the Atlantic, and we watched the raging sea in a place poetically known as the Pan's Rocks. It stayed imprinted into my mind ever since and to this day it's one of my favourite parts of the northern coast. Often rearranged by the waves, always giving gifts, be it physical ones like a hagstone, visual like watching dolphins in the distance or sensory like the way the breeze touches my face or the scent of the seaweed fills my lungs.
My favourite finds are skate egg cases. The first and biggest one I found was a spotted ray. I'm saddened I don't see more of them, instead there's an ever-increasing amount of plastic that I try to remove the best I can.
The sea tells such powerful tales. Especially the stormy sea, the gifts she can leave and the things she can take work as such a strong metaphor for our lives.
You know, I've never been to Ireland!? Which is ridiculous, really, and one day will be remedied. I do recognise your description of that first visit of yours, though, witnessing the power of the storm and waters is something I have loved for decades, ever since moving to Orkney as a child.
I have a large collection of egg cases and beachcombed treasure, all kindly housed by my long-suffering sister. One day, I look forward to actually being reunited with them, remembering where they were found, and when (many are labelled, some are not). Sometimes, when walking a shore, I like to imagine what it would have been like thousands of years ago--no plastic, more driftwood, more natural treasures. I have several passages about this in the Mesolithic book I mentioned, which starts on the waters and ends a similar way.
Thank you so much for your words here, I really appreciate them, and apologise that it has taken me so long to reply.
And yes, I often have similar thoughts on how people perceived our surroundings thousands of years ago.
Last spring and summer I often sat outside late at night, just soaking in the clear skies until I froze, and I was often feeling this deep awe and sorrow at the same time. I can still occasionally see the Milky Way and it's so breathtakingly beautiful, it triggers an almost trance-inducing state, yet so many people nowadays barely see the stars. I think I wrote about this last summer. Most of our civilisation is now completely alienated from a natural environment. For our ancestors, nothing but a complete darkness existed, every single star was visible in every direction. I imagine people sitting around a bonfire, looking at the skies and facing the same awe, weaving stories about what they see, translating it to megalithic monuments and art. No doubt they felt the same about the sea and its vastness.
Goodness, we've lost so, so much, it's heartbreaking.
Never apologise. Internet communication can and should wait.
I wouldn't be surprised if we have some mutual friends and acquaintances, it's a small world! Don't even get me started on scientific journals, ugh... The prices are absolutely ridiculous and a huge barrier to people getting into archaeology (and science in general). I remember needing certain articles when I was writing my MA thesis and some of them were £30-£80 per article. Daylight robbery and nothing else. Needless to say, I didn't buy any. Some of them I managed to pirate - zero regrets. I'm a profoundly anti-paywall person. Many universities give you access to a couple of journals as a student, but it's just not enough.
Same goes for book prices. Earlier this month the long awaited Oxford Handbook of Mesolithic Europe was released, at a staggering price of £190 for the hardcover version. No paperback version. I don't know how can this be justified, no matter the topic, the authors and how groundbreaking the work is.
Prices like this are prohibitive to everyone but the rich, and I can't help but say the same about archaeology in general. During my studies it was very palpable how inaccessible archaeology is to someone like me who had to scramble to survive and colleagues whose parents were paying for their dig experiences abroad. They filled their CVs with digs and met big names in the world of archaeology while I was working in pubs and warehouses to be able to buy food and pay student accommodation. Then you finish uni and people tell you you need to do volunteer digs to gain experience because your CV is empty - yet the choice is between volunteering and being homeless. Archaeology is deeply classist and elitist. It was hard not to feel bitter about it. I no longer dwell on it though.
I'm actually currently looking into entry level positions in a different field - nature restoration and conservation. I think doing what we can for our environment is the most urgent work of our times. I feel this was a natural progression for me given my spirituality and politics. The pay is just as poor as it is in field archaeology, but I suspect the satisfaction would be rewarding enough (as much as we can feel rewarded within capitalism).
Wishing you a good day
Also, I'm intrigued by your Mesolithic-themed novel! If you ever decide to pursue it further in any form and need any archaeological input to help with building your narrative and landscape, don't hesitate to send me a message, I'd be happy to share resources.
Ah, this is wonderful, thank you! Ever since leaving university, I've carried a grudge against the fact that so many (but not all, thankfully) academic journals paywall their work. It makes no sense to me.
I will certainly return to this novel at some point. No idea when, but it does whisper to me, quite often and, when I do, I will also certainly get in touch! Thank you! You may regret this, when one day I am sending you yet another edit...! Ha.
I'm sure we have mutual friends IRL incidentally, people I miss from my undergraduate days in Sheffield, who have stayed on in the field (or lab, or university).
Thanks again, I really appreciate that!