Watery Illumination

At first glance, its appearance looks wholly unremarkable. Why unremarkable? After one lives in the same place for almost a decade, one becomes accustomed to the fixed locations and their structures. I am looking at the narrow entrance of the harbour. I have never looked at it as closely as I ought to before.  It is very rocky, treacherous and narrow. The first thing that comes into my mind is how the fishermen in the village navigate their boats to enter into the harbour and avert the possibility of hitting into the rocks.

The most treacherous and rocky entrance into the harbour. In a winter morning or evening in a thick fog, one can't help but admire how the fishermen skilfully navigate their boats near this entrance. Each rock has a name given by the fishermen; Theresa, Katharine, and Gracie, commonly known as the three sisters, that suggests a bond of friendship as well as an attempt by humans to tame them. Nature's dark and ruthless side coexists with its serene, bucolic character.   

If one is born into the traditional fishing communities, the art of navigation is the inheritance that one dutifully passes down from one generation to another at an impressionable age. This narrow opening, a threshold that divides into the two worlds; a point of entry and exist, is just another landmark without any special meaning or burden attached to it. Coming in and out of the harbour seems a mere second nature to the fishermen. For someone who is exiled, and who is always returning and never arriving, looking at the fishermen bringing their boats in and out of this narrow entrance with ease and effortless display of skill seems quite a revelation to me. A wise man (Alan Watts) once said: "The art of life is more like navigation than warfare".     

Elizabeth - Isn’t it a beautiful name for a boat?

Amidst the chaos and confusion in the time of pandemic, one thing that I will never forget is the slow revelation of the spring that awakens and replaces the severe grey flannel of wintry palette with its warm and riotous colours. Even though there is no clear answer how we can starve this merciless virus out of our existence, the central government has lifted the restrictions in some parts of the country and changed its slogan from ‘Stay at home’ to ‘Stay alert’. Authorities in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland refused to adopt its vague message. The phrase ‘Stay alert’ would be more appropriate as a sign to warn the ultimate danger when entering into the harbour than dealing with the invisible killer. 

I'm currently reading Calvino's The Baron in the Trees. It tells the story of the young Cosimo Piovasco di Rondò who, after an argument with his parents, climbs through the castle window, into the lush canopy of Ombrosa, swearing never to set foot on the ground again. Calvino wrote the most enchanting story for both grown-ups and children. What a beautiful artwork on the cover, isn't it? 

During the period of confinement,  I'd like to read the kind of books that are more attuned to a slower rhythm. Solitude by Anthony Storr  (1997). 'This book brings excellent news for those who, whatever their reasons for doing so, live alone… It is heartening to find a psychiatrist of Dr Storr's eminence diverging from the received wisdom.' Anita Brookner, Spectator.  

The Scottish government’s approach is more cautious and the advice on the lockdown restrictions and social distancing measures remain the same for the time being. The prolonged confinement has its own challenges as it can put a strain on our mental state. The mind can wander to its obsessive errands or get trapped inside a labyrinth where each thought is tossed, segmented and blown into pieces like a dandelion with a single breath.  

During my lockdown walks, a disconcerting question came to me; after the pandemic, how much normality do we want to restore it back for our society? Pollution, mass tourism, noise and traffic, and the consequences of the memorable lines from W. H. Davies; ‘no time to stand beneath the boughs…no time to see, when woods we pass’ – do we really crave for this kind of normality?

Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience (1977) by Yi-Fu Tuan is a seminal work on the anthropology of space and place to make sense of the ways we shape and inhabit our world.

I remember a passage that I read a few years ago in one of the most thought-provoking and inspiring books; Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience (1977) by a Chinese-American geographer, Yi-Fu Tuan.  He makes a distinction between the idea of space and the idea of place.  Tuan writes:

‘Place is security, space is freedom: we are attached to the one and long for the other. There is no place like home…Space and place are basic components of the lived world; we take them for granted...Knowing a place...clearly takes time. It is a subconscious kind of knowing. In time we become familiar with a place, which means that we can take more and more of it for granted.’

It took a global pandemic to realise the true meaning and the essence of this message, the value of our home, when all our ways of lives are altered and rapidly brought to a standstill.

While the country is dealing with a pandemic, our homes become a place of quarantine rather than a place of liberty. Tuan's idea of 'place is security, space is freedom: we are attached to the one and long for the other' can be fully understood and proves an enduring example and poignant message. It has taught us the value of something that we might not have noticed before.   

Even our freedom to enjoy our daily walks and exercises in the nature are state-sanctioned – only once a day is allowed, and in some parts of Europe the right to go out for exercise (with exceptions such as walking the dog or going out to buy food) was not granted. Tuan warns the fragile nature of ‘space’ and ‘place’ in which one depends on the other. During the pandemic, our homes become the place of quarantine rather than the place of liberty. It has taught us the value of something that we might not have noticed before.

I am rediscovering the joy of baking during the period of isolation. The flour is hard to find in the big cities but thanks to our small local shops where the stockpiling is prohibited by the foresighted shopkeepers, we are able to buy flour for baking. I read the interesting anecdotes about Virginia Woolf who, according to her housemaid (Louie Mayer), was a good bread-maker and it was mentioned (p.285) in Elizabeth David’s English Bread and Yeast Cookery. I remind myself that what Virginia Woolf could do I can do. I love this book very much. It tells you everything you need to know about baking and bread. I use one recipe to make Soft Rolls (p.323) from this book and it tastes absolutely delicious and it is easy to make.  

Elizabeth David was Britain's the greatest cookery writer. Even if one is not a cook, one would be pleasantly surprised to read her prose just to savour its eloquence. 

“What is patriotism but the love of the food one ate as a child?” ― Lin Yutang

Tuan elaborates his illuminating ideas on the relationship between space and place as follows:

‘“Space” is more abstract than “place”. What begins as undifferentiated space becomes place as we get to know it better and endow it with value. Architects talk about the spatial qualities of place; they can equally well speak of the locational (place) qualities of space. The ideas “space” and “place” require each other for definition. From the security and stability of place we are aware of the openness, freedom, and threat of space, and vice versa. Furthermore, if we think of space as that which allows movement, then place is pause; each pause in movement makes it possible for location to be transformed into place.’

We live in a world where increasing and unprecedented numbers of people are deprived of the places of familiarity, belonging and sanctuary. They have been pulled by the spaces of migration and venturing into the unknown in pursuit of a better life elsewhere, which often turns out to be an illusion in reality. We must earnestly try our best to save the places even if there is a constant threat of those who want to turn our places into abstract spaces, disrupt our harmony with nature and our basic human needs for their own benefits. 

Places are our trees of life firmly rooted in the core of our beings. They are places where we belong, create, nurture, daydream, fall in love, give birth to our children and find a spiritual solace in times of uncertainty. It took a trip to the Land of Oz to make Dorothy value her home. Let us hope that the global pandemic we are experiencing now will profoundly change the way we think about our world and make us realise other ways of being, and like Dorothy, one day we can return home wiser.  

'Compared to space, place is a calmer centre of established values. Human beings require both space and place. Human lives are a dialectical movement between shelter and venture, attachment and freedom. In open space one can become intensely aware of place; and in the solitude of a sheltered place the vastness of space beyond acquires a haunting presence.' Yi-Fu Tuan, Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience (1977) Yi-Fu Tuan is one of the most humanist, erudite and fascinating scholars of our time.