Article by Alex Burson, Student at University of Oxford
Burnham-Overy-Staithe is a small harbour, associated with the inland Burnham Overy Town in North Norfolk. From the harbour (Picture 1) there unwinds an elevated coastal path, above the tidal ebb of the estuary to the left and the marshy grassland to the right. Wandering down the rusty-coloured walkway, the sounds, smells and sights of the concealed sea intensify. Flowing, melodic calls of the Curlew unfurl into the air as the fresh sea air fills your lungs. The dunes beckon you closer, and for me, my brothers, my parents and their parents before, the same sand bowl calls slightly louder. Beyond this bowl, one last marram grass lined gateway, reveals the culmination of a crescendo of the senses. Emerging out onto the finest example of Norfolk’s big skies and bigger still seas, reveals the source of intrigue drawing us out (Picture 2).
Through my early years, my grandma and I shared a wander in the natural habitats and organisms that populated this walk. Hours were spent pouring over flocks of Plovers, gliding Marsh Harriers and the Oystercatchers lining up on the shoreline. The shared experience of the sounds, sights and natural encounters strengthened and established a familial bond, spatially and experientially entrenched into a coastal path. The intrigue of the sea and the repeated immersion within the coastal landscape established an inter-generational spaces of connection.
The "Blue Mind"
Advocates for experiencing the sea in this intimate way are growing following the focus on the “Green Mind” and the benefits of natural spaces for our mental health. Research from Plymouth Marjon University has put forward the notion of a “Blue Mind” (Plymouth Marjon University, 2024). The Blue Mind speaks to the specific role of water in influencing our mental state, reducing anxieties and creating natural connections to something more. Water and seas are constantly changing, always reflecting nuance and dynamism but within a regularity of tides and waves. In experiencing the marine and reflecting on the subtle continual differences of the seascape you gaze upon, there is a requirement to apply focus and rest the mind in the analysis of the wave. Through this process, there is a hormonal response as oxytocin is released to dull anxieties. Over time, through the repeated interaction with the water, a connection is built and an association of such spaces as tranquil and awe-inspiring can develop. Consequently, the sea comes to provide a comfortability and sense of belonging that can be hard to find elsewhere.
The positive impacts of spending time in seascapes is entrenched by associated physical and social activities. Whether its swimming, surfing, or paddleboarding, the beach and the sea are usually experienced through means of physical movement. Furthermore, it is often done with friends or family, tightening bonds and creating memories. The benefits of water therefore go beyond that of the individual and become a collective shared site of memory. Pierre Nora describes a lieu de mémoire, or a realm of memory (Nora,1983). Water and especially the seas, provide a space for establishing familial and individual realms of memory with a variety of important mental health benefits.
The sea and absense
My own experience of a particular seascape in Burnham-Overy-Staithe has deepened the idea of the Blue Mind. My grandmother passed away when I was eleven years old and the network of shared memories has been a way of maintaining a relationship with an absent figure in my life. The sensual immersion of the walk from harbour to shoreline re-creates and strengthens images of the woman I lost. It is common for those grieving to say they feel the presence of the departed in certain environments or in response to certain stimuli. Maddrell attempts to substantiate that feeling by analysing that the concept of absence is inextricably linked to presence when dealing with the deceased (Maddrell, 2013).
Although my grandmother is physically separated, her material absence continues to influence present experiences. A passage landscape is developed with specific birds, sand dunes and waves providing the material substance to an array of memories and reconstructions of my past relationship. The present, active sight and sound of a Curlew calling through the sea air, creates a material linking object through which a channel of shared memory can be traversed. Klass (1996) highlights how adopting a perspective of grieving as not a separation from but a continued connection to the departed, can establish a more positive framing of the deceased. For me, this process adds an additional, soulful presence to the temporally intwined space of my individual experience of the sea – connecting my past, my presents and the absent presents that could have been. In this way I have developed a personal lieu de mémoire.
The seascape in its vastness has the potential to hold these memories and revitalise a sometimes-faint relationship, creating a presence to things otherwise lost. It is the specific quality of the dynamism of the sea that allows it to act as such a shared spot of emotional memory. In engaging with passage landscapes, temporally stretched ties to meaningful people, memories or experiences can continue to have agency and influence. Recently, I undertook a long 150km bike ride from my house to the same space, supported by my brothers. In being greeted by the coastal sounds, comforting chill of the water and the pub my parents and my grandparents had frequented before, I felt the familial presence of a history of interaction with the water.
The seas and the oceans, now more than ever require our support but I argue that people have a need for the assistance of the seas to an even greater extent.
Alex Burson
15th January 2015
