In this moment, I look upon the sheer beauty of the ancient rock, sat on my woven blanket, holding my small clay sculpture shaped from driftwood. I realised, my hands will never be able to do what the wind does. I felt great comfort from this realisation, and perhaps for the first time in my life, I felt I was in exactly the right place.

For me, the urge I have to make things with my hands goes beyond language. From now on, I will use the patience of nature as a mentor. I will let the rocks, the wind and the trees show me what I need to be taught. Along this path, I know I will find solace, in service to the natural world.