A visit to Manorbier beach after the storm gifted me with a perfect bundle of untangled rope left carefully coiled next to the bin by a caring soul after their beach walk.
This, to me, is like finding treasure. It excites me. I see endless uses for what someone else would deem as waste. Yes, it is covered in slimy seaweed and grained with the salty smell of the ocean, but this little coil with a little love, will create a beautiful, usable item whilst retaining its nautical heritage.
I identify deeply with this rope. It has spent unaccounable time, drifting at sea, before grounding on this beach. My beach. My life over the last 7 years has been a bit like that of the rope. Drifting, not knowing where l really belong. Just waiting to find a place to settle. Even though l have been in Pembrokeshire for a while now, my soul is still searching for “home”.
Manorbier beach has been a place l run to when my soul is unsettled or when my heart feels lost. It grounds me. It is filled with ghosts of my past. I had holidayed here for years with my tribe before moving here in 2017. It is filled with the memories of the happier times of our past family life. Here I can still hear my childrens laughter whisper in the seabreeze as they surfed the waves. The warmth of crackling fires made from the driftwood the children found. The smell of freshly caught mackerel sizzling on a barbeque and long summer nights watching the sunset with a glass of wine, listening to the soft melodies of a gently strummed guitar. My ex-partner battling the breaking waves with their paddle to reach the calmness beyond. My ex. The reason why l ran away to be here alone. A broken home. A broken heart.
After our break up l wanted a place to breathe. A place where nobody knew me or gave me their pity. I wanted to feel alone with my grief but comforted by a soulful warm embrace only found wrapped up in the breaking waves and the soft memories that rolled in with each tide. A place where l felt as free as the sea current but able to hide my salty tears submersed in the spray of the waves. Manorbier beach gives me this freedom and calmness. It enabled me to find who l really am far away from that broken home.
As l weave with this dicarded coil of rope, l am not just creating a piece of art. I am unravelling the hurt of my past and weaving a different future for both the rope and myself. Like this rope, l have found a new lease of life after being discarded, and have now become another man's treasure.
We may think our lives are mapped out ahead of us, but until we lose our purpose and way, we can never truly find our right path. And l found mine in old rope.
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