A young girl and I are walking on South Beach, on the mud flats at low tide. Swarms of little blue soldier crab running before us. They bury myriad little feet, slipping into wet tidal sand. They disappear. Gone in a trice.
‘Look’, she said. ‘When they grow up, those blue crabs will be thoughts in somebody’s brain’.
‘How is that?’
‘Those little blue crabs are making somebody’s brain in the future. Millions of thinking running along together’’
‘You mean, the beach is thinking’.
‘Yes, then the thoughts bury in the sand. All gone. But don’t worry; thoughts come up again when the beach is quiet’.
‘What would happen if this beach and all the crabs died?’
‘Well’, she said, ‘There’d be no more brains in the future’.
From the movement of creatures we learn patterns of creation. The pattering of crab feet in the sand print stories. Blue crabs writing on the book of tides.
Observation of pattern builds the repertoire of human thought. A human body holds the history of our long becoming. Acts of nature observed are woven in long story lines; the breathing of life and death; a weaving net of facts of life, interlaced throughout the waves and lands of the world. Such stories must interlace this river. Mangroves might be the custodians; mangroves speak a language of their own; they keep secrets.
This long river must be wrapped in many languages. Languages are cradles of civilisation. South Beach is a cradle of civilization. The blue crabs are thinking.
Craig San Roque
( edited extract from ‘Persephone’s Suicide’ in ‘The Green Book - Depth Psychology and Climate Change’, 2020, Routledge)