///Bared.Nights.Birds

What three words? These three words..

What do they mean? Well.. more than I initially thought.

How? Let me explain.

"Every 3m squared in the world has been given a three word address." Stick that into your chosen internet search engine and smoke it.. I have a wordcount after all.

///Bared.Nights.Birds marks the bottom right corner of the tidal pool at Walpole Bay, Kent, UK. Bottom right corner, if you are looking in from the beach that is. The Forth Wall if you like, if we are to think in terms of theatre and sometimes we must! It's where the chalky bottomed pool meets the sand and where the swimmers who opt not to dive in off the wall, bravely wade in to the chill of the ocean.

Our pool covers over four acres and its dimensions are 450ft long, 300ft wide at the seaward end and 550ft long at the landward end. It fills afresh with a high-tide and stays full when the tide goes out.

I am new-ish in town. I moved to this corner of the UK after over a decade in the capitol, fresh out of a relationship in October 2020. In those first months I made a daily pilgramige to the water with my new neighbour. The cold dips initially were a welcome numbing - allowing the exterior to match in the interior but over time the tides turned (sorry) and my heart warmed. I noticed there was alot of consistant swimmers getting their Vitamin Sea and though I wouldn't dream of speculating that anybody else was using the salt water as ointment for their wounds in quite the same way as I was but there is much research which suggest it is a useful method of coping with depression and anxiety.

Cold Therapy - until that point had meant watching my recently rehabilitated boyfriend run into an icey shower in our central london apartment and scream "I MISS DRUGS" at the top of his lungs. Initially for real and then later for humour as he admirably softened into his new substance-free lifestyle. When he visited me recently we walked on the beach and I pointed at the water and said.. "sometimes I run in and scream I MISS HUGS". He laughed and we embraced, both grateful to be staying friends.

I do miss Hugs. This pandemic has been low on touch for many and in these darkest months at the beginning of 2021, I am sure we are all feeling the lack of warmth as deeply as our marrow. Soon I hope we will be able to throw our bones around other peoples bones and clatter around on dancefloors but until then we keep our distance.

Though the What3Words project well predates any pandemic restrictions on social distancing I do think its apt that if we each found our own 3 metre space to occupy we would all have 3 words to act as a writing prompt. Now, I am not about to reveal my exact location (definitely not bed, promise) but as I already have ///Bared.Nights.Birds I am going to take that for a swim, with the Vocal Challenge of Fresh Start as a boyancy aid.

Bared.. is how it feels to disrobe poolside infront of groups of strangers. Bare in that intimate moment of vulnerability as you break through the icy membrane and immerse your bare skin in frozen water. Though very quickly the engine at your core revs up and heats you from the inside out there is a moment that every nerve ending is sending signals to survive. In the water my entire body vibrates with the gratifying feeling of being alive, and relief at wanting to be thus. I found my daily dips grew less frequent as I needed less convincing of the joy in living. I have been in only 3 times this year and each time I turn to whoever is around and say.. Why do I ever talk myself out of this?

If the feeling could be bottled I am certain it would be a sell-out but for me the gold is found in the moment of teeth gritting resistance. In the second of inertia before I dive in every muscle in my body tenses with reluctance but as soon as you in the only option is a watery surrender. An audible exhale.

When clothed and walking past I see the pool as dear friend who I have left on read. A missed opportunity to reconnect. But as certain as the sun rising each day, the water isnt going away. We'll meet again when I next need my medicine.

Nights.. are very different than they have been in my past. At 25 I was at peak Party. I was very good at it, or so I thought. It was only meeting a man who really was peak party and spending two years chasing our tails around dark clubs and darker mornings that we have both come out the otherside with a very different perspective. Throw in JANUARY, a global pandemic, being 28 and my nights have never been more wholesome and I have never been so at home, being at home. Last year I read a book called Stealing Fire which pitched the idea of a Hedonic Calender - In laymans terms.. An Excitment Schedule. The concept being that we shouldnt strive to live constantly in the fast lane otherwise we are liable to burn out and our experiences would loose meaning anyway. The flipside being that occasionally we need heightened, hedonistic happenings to help us get out of our heads and into our hearts. Right now with no oppotunity for anything hi-octane for obvious reasons, I am focussing on the small stuff. Handstands, for example. Quite thrilling to practice and a very good way to literally change your perspective and turn things upside down. I am in the midst of training as a Yoga teacher and alot of my leisure time takes place in close proximity to a mat. The rock-climbing, festivals, parties and performances are still there in the distance but for now its nice for a delicious meal or a long, blustery walk on the beach to represent the height of hedonism.

Birds..everyday since January first, I have woken up to the sound of Birdsong. 4 different varieties of birdsong to be exact - recorded and played at 7am on a small white Coo-Coo Clock. A modern interpretation of the classic. I invested in this alarm clock toward the end of the last year as a way of weaning myself off allowing my phone into my bed at night and subsequently in the morning. Of all my 'resolutions' I would say this has been the most revolutionary. Not only is the sound of birdsong a wonderful way to wake up but I could now never dream of spending the first moments of having my eyes open looking into a screen instead of at the sky. I had gotten into the rather naughty habit of listening to podcasts or radioshows to get myself to sleep at night, something I imagine was a response to suddenly being alone in my bed and missing the company. A stack of interesting books by Gabor Mate and Peter Levine has put an end to this and thrown gasoline onto the what were the mere embers of interest I had in Trauma Therapy, Self Regulation and Addiction.

I honestly wouldnt trade my night or morning routine for anything else now. Good quality sleep is something I never saw the point of in my early twenties. I was running on fumes and rarely in tune with what nourishment my mind or body needed at the time. For all its literal ills, I will always remember 2020 as the year I got time back. In 2021, I can already feel the seeds that were sewn last year beginning to break the surface of the soil.