We’d love to collect your thoughts and reflections after Shoreline to Shoreline. Please use the box below. Thank you.
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Shoreline to Shoreline 
Spent a gentle few hours with a campfire on a special Galloway beach thinking about loss, some new, some old, some to come. I drank a toast to family on different shorelines, Ireland, Canada, Greenland and England and tried to understand how I was feeling. The sun set over the island and I felt connected and apart in melancholy and hope.
Denise Zygadlo
December 20th 2020 3.30pm
Climbing the hill opposite our house, I walked to the River Nith on the other side and found a place to set a small vintage bottle off on its journey. Thinking about all the losses of 2020 and how incredibly fortunate I have been and how, living here, I am protected from the many difficulties others have to endure. My message in the bottle was one of hope and my intention, despite the adding of superfluous matter to the water, was that this hope would reach someone who needed or appreciated it. I enclosed my contact details, just to see………..
To my utter surprise and joy I received today, 7th January, an email from a lady in Dumfries who found my message in a bottle in the mud off Shore Road, Glencaple, with her children. She took photos of it, as a school project with her children, before sending it onwards in the ice and snow with their own note added and saying, ‘let’s hope coronavirus goes from our world very soon’.
And let’s hope the wee bottle will collect more notes of hope along the way. Thanks Jo and Robbie for inspiring such a positive chain reaction.
On the shoreline in Nuuk, Greenland. Focusing on the complex squall of Ravens and the small icebergs slowly being pulled out to sea again…..and a very recent loss
The most easterly point in England is not the prettiest place. Yet standing in the rain, looking out to sea, it was calming and a good place to think of loved ones, some no longer with us. Had a little chat to my Mum, it would have been her birthday. Came away feeling like I had achieved something. Thank you for organising this x
Thank you for this most wonderful encouragement to join with my family remembering my husband, just passed away almost 2 months ago. I wrote his name in the sand and watched as the incoming tide washed it smooth. I was in Portobello, Scotland and was joined by family thousands of miles away – Puget Sound in Olympia, Washington, in San Francisco Bay and also in Seattle. They all sent amazing photos on the day. Shore to Shore was a beautiful and healing experience for us all. Thank you.
Thank you so much for taking part and for sharing your reflections. If you have any photos that you’d like us to post in the Shoreline to Shoreline website gallery, please e mail them to joraymefar@gmail.com. Thankyou
Thought about all the losses we have had in Nova Scotia, Canada this year, as I stood by the Bay of Fundy. It has been a difficult time for so many. Also thought positively about how we all come together in these days, and are there for each other. Thankful!❤️
Gave offerings to the 5 elements before singing over my bones into the River Esk. Calling on all deities to help support everyone to find the courage to accept, let go & embrace the new. 🏔🔥💧🌬🌌
I was thinking about family on the other side of the Atlantic as well as friends down this coastline who can also see Ailsa. Others in Glasgow who surf (though not on the calm sea today!). I like walking in the surf, barefoot in the summer, but even in boots it’s good.
Away from most of you at the southern end of Cumbria, I just love watching (and photographing) the sunrise over Morecambe Bay. A year of loss and yet of some hope. The sun rises every day even if we can’t see it
In a year where we have lost our ability to mark events with ritual and celebration this was a beautiful way to pause, apart but together, and focus our attention. I filled my shell heart with loved ones I had to let go of, one by one, to the waves…but I left a full shell heart of love and hope on the rocks in celebration of those I can still hold close and cherish so dearly. A beautiful act that allowed both pain and hope for the future 💜
Thank you for sharing. The heart of shells is such a beautiful idea – letting go, but also celebrating love and hope. Thank you so much for taking part
Sissi
Sissiiiiii…
Sissi is the name of an imaginary dinosaur that came to my mind when I was telling a story to my son. It actually emerged not as a name but as a sound. There is confusion about who Sissi is. At times it is the princess calling the dinosaur. At times it is the dinosaur calling the princess. At times it is both of them whispering this word to the world.
It expresses a sense of incompleteness and disorientation which is part of our times
At the same time, it fosters longing for the Earth
On Sunday 20th December 2020, with my children, we made a dinosaur and went by the river Dee in Scotland. We played with it in water, whispering, calling, mourning, singing Sissi to the world!
Sissiiiiii…
Thank you so much – such a fantastic way of involving children in connecting to the water, the earth and the wider world.
Grief like a wave, swelling and rolling over you, making you gasp for air. We struggle against it but here I let it wash over me a little. I stood on the bank of the little Hogsmill river which is our nearest body of water and somewhere I visited often during lockdown and also on the day my Mother died when it seemed particularly vibrant. Thank you for this communal moment.
Thank you so much for sharing. Letting grief wash over you a little – so beautifully put. I have read a lot recently about needing to embrace the pain of grief in order to be able to move through it, even though is overwhelming. I hope taking part helped in a small way in your journey.
The tide was up and the moon was too. The bay on the Cumbrae was full of water connecting me to all the world – to anxious friends in Hong Kong, to landlocked friends by rivers and streams. A few moments only to reflect, remember and watch. Watch the water’s movement, the waves back and forth endlessly washing the sand. The light creating its dramatic reflections. Just a few moments.
Thank you for taking the time to share your reflections here, so very evocative. I love Cumbrae and can imagine the waves and dramatic reflections on the water. Thank you so much for taking part.
Sitting on the gifted stone, overlooking Milton Loch, three lights are lit. Each is surrounded with a garland of willow, Scots pine, oak and holly.
The first is for those we have lost. So raw for too many this year. In particular, thinking about the mothers, fathers, sisters and nieces lost to us and our friends.
The second is for those still present with us. Some on the threshold of leaving, many too, too far from us to be with during these strange times.
The third light is for those still to come. The promise of hope, the embodiment of our commitment to the future.
So beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing this and and for taking part. Where there is loss, there is also light and hope – and your hope for the future is so beautifully put. Thank you.