The Secret Language of Water

The secret language of water takes time to learn. Masaru Emoto will nod and tell you that. It is about love, fluid grace and endlessly original, intricate, beauty.

The soccer field is empty. Just my dog, Blue and I are here connecting to the cosmos. He has David Bowie eyes, one blue, one brown. The brown one has a streak of azure that mesmerizes. He always knows when to wait; when to be silent; when to tussle me awake from daydreams.

I stand arms wide looking up, as fat snowflakes fall from the night sky. They zoom down like spaceships against the dark. I thrill at the messages touching me all round, melting on my face, sliding down my collar wet against my neck, sparkling like diamonds in my hair and eyelashes.

I feel adorned in love. A love – so vast I breathe the frigid air in deep and feel the littleness of me wash away – exhaled in steamy clouds.

Moments like this are rare when we can really feel what we are part of, letting go of all the noise and endless din of mental chatter.

My dog can speak to water. Tonight, he grins wide and woofs a challenge. Then ever so luxuriously he rolls around in the glistening snow. Grinding his face deep, his front paws moving fast, and his bum and tail waving like banners in the air.

Grinning back, I join him - snow angels! How better to say thank you for such dazzling perfection.