What does it mean, to be made up of water? Would it really matter, if we were mostly air? Would we then believe more in spirits and sprites, see faeries and not call ourselves mad? What if we were made up of granite, would that make us titans but not humans?
We seem intent in making sure that we can be identified with something beyond ourselves, something larger, something unafraid. Water is, indeed, 3/4 of Earth's surface, and where air and fire can be tamed, water on the move is unstoppable. I wonder whether that is the main reason we want to define our components, and feel comfort in repeating it: we are mostly made up of water.
Water, the element identified with emotion, under the auspices of the moon; temperamental, crystalline, salty, sweet, life giving. We are water, thus more than a drop - we are gases but not air, minerals but not stone, living but unborn, old as the planet, the tail of comets. We are sweat and tears, and humours too.
Yet it seems that, when we insist on being water, we also aim to forget. We forget we are not only matter, but stories. We are memories, unconstrained. As humans, we are boundless in our capability to experience, to explore, to change movement and go beyond. When we are water, we forget that it is not erosion, but creativity, that makes us all powerful. It is love that burns that spurs us on.
It'd rather tire on two feet than disappear in the oblivion of the sea. We may be mostly water, but I'm wholly me: my stories, my dreams, my beats, my words.
I refuse to dissolve, clean or erase.
I chose to tell.
