Walking is a repetitive movement that creates a natural rhythm. So, when I walk, I feel my heartbeat and the pace of my footsteps upon gravel and grass. I listen to my body breathe in and out. I hear the wind howls above the cliff path and sea birds shrieking in the rain. The repetition and rhythm of my body and the land allow me to drift in-between.
What lies in-between?
I believe the in-between can reveal and conceal. It’s neither one thing nor another. For example, I walk along the path and find a stone on the grassy mound and I wonder, does it belong to the foundations of Inverugie Castle? I find the stone in the present moment, yet, I remember the story of a clansman who calls out ‘Robore Pudentia Praestat.’ Prudence excels strength! Before my walk, I had read about Cashach Cove, Inverugie Castle, and the Clan Young. I remember the past, but I am still here in the moment and yet my mind starts to think about the future life of living by the sea. Everything is interconnected and, being in-between allows my mind to drift into the past, present, and future.
I search the cove below for a glimpse of the Clashach Pier, as the map suggests it once stood here. For now it’s gone and almost forgotten. The quarry is still here with its ominous danger signs and I walk on the gravel path towards the top of the cliff. In the distance, I can see the lifeguard lookout station and beyond that, the skerries and the Covebay Lighthouse. I wonder about the future; what will stand in 100 years? Will anything lie in-between? What will fall into sea? I think about the lighthouse as it seems to be waiting for me in passive silence, while frantic white horses toss salt in protest.