My soul was long-overdue for another contemplative photography exercise. I try to discipline myself to reflect for only 10 minutes, which is rarely long enough but motivates me to focus on the image and not let my mind wander too far afield. This time, I brought a little of my experience on site when I received this photography into my reflections. I hope that perhaps you can yet benefit from imagining the tactile sensations that accompanied this visual experience.
Wurm’s Head is an interesting formation that is only accessible for a few hours a day when the tide is out. This scene is flooded and obscured every day. It is a difficult walk to make it from the mainland to the islands.
I see > an anchor old and worn, weathered, experienced, abandoned yet frequently encountered by Wurm’s Head adventurers, the sometime island at the horizon, currently accessible with a daunting knife-life peak, millions–perhaps billions–of discarded shells, homes that are now tread upon, ground down to serve as a highway to a place only occasionally available, a big metal loop where the anchor was once attached to something larger than itself–a receptacle perhaps now vacant
I feel > a drab sky and little hope, Wurm’s Head is yet far away, the anchor invites me to stay right here with its roughness, rust, and barnacles; the path is not straight or smooth; shall I just sit by the water’s edge and go no farther?
I think > where am I anchored? is it a place I can stay, a place I should stay? is it for my own good, or a distraction from yet more incredible views, experience, and blessing? am I an anchor for others? a tool of protection and stability, or an abrasive distraction, interrupting a path that is already hard? have I landed too far from the water’s edge where I belong?