Antiquity & Strength

When you see an acorn, what does it mean to you? Does it resemble anything? Symbolise anything in your life? Or does it simply have no meaning or consequence at all, and you’d naturally just pass it by?

For me, this acorn represents our common neglect for the smaller, but just-as-miraculous elements of nature that surrounds us. The larger landscapes create space, freedom and bring a lightness to our lives. It enables us to spread our wings and explore with a detachment from the inner workings of that landscape that we freely roam. The beauty of the horizons both in dawn and dusk, offer a multitude of emotions, possibly reflecting the day that has just been or accommodating the needs of tomorrow. For some, these tremendous landscapes may reveal new emotions, thoughts and perspectives that would have otherwise gone amiss in the hustle and bustle of daily life. The most important thing that the breathtaking topography of this planet provides us with, is a moment out of man-made time; a chance to be still amongst the chaos; and appreciation for the natural world in which we live. But what about the smaller things, the tiny, minuscule happenings that aren’t at our constant eye-lines? The deeper intricacies that help to keep this planet breathing? Something as tiny as an acorn?

I went on a walk with my family one afternoon towards the end of 2019. I had just finished a stressful freelance job working in a film industry camera team that I had taken straight after a long and dedicated year completing a Masters degree studying Cinematography in London. Home, where my parents are based, for now, is Kent-‘The Garden of England’. There are so many woodland walks, with tracks leading across the countryside and in between the local trees; sycamore, oak, birch, beech, pine, I could go on. The variety is amazing and because I had the time to stroll and take in the smells and sounds carried by the autumn breeze, I was able to appreciate it so much more. I wasn’t there to march for exercise or fitness purposes, with hardcore techno music blaring through my earbuds, or for anything else for that matter. I didn’t have a purpose, just an unlimited amount of time to wander and fill my senses and see where I actually was living for a change.

My grandfather had died around the same time a year before. He had had 5 different types of terminal cancers in the end, supposedly as a result of a traumatic accident involving horses and a carriage some years before that. The mutation in the cells as they repaired didn’t have the healthy recovery we had hoped for. But he was a gentle but strong man with a kind heart and a fighting spirit. It wasn’t until he was in the final week of his life that I witnessed the calm and slow process of him finally letting go. Holding a hand or hearing a word spoken by those he loved, a shared memory or the propping up of a pillow to ease the pain meant more to him than whether or not his finances were in order or what might happen if he didn’t make it. In the end, it was the small details that made the difference and made his life worth living. Around 250 people showed up to his funeral. It was a celebration of his wonderful life and a communal grievance that he was no longer with us. It made me see life in a completely different light; a light that has pushed me since, to appreciate the smaller things, people, and consequently in nature too.

On this walk with my family, I had decided to bring my new, second-hand Nikon D40 camera along with me to put it to the test. It was an old well-used camera, with a newish 18-70mm lens on it. I had never taken photography particularly seriously before until someone had told me I had a good eye for composition and light. I had painted portraits using oils for a couple of years but capturing split-second moments of light or movement was far more challenging. We had been walking along an avenue of trees. The wind had picked up a little and the sky had clouded over, the smell in the air became earthy and fresh giving us a warning of rain. We had paused the walk to debate whether to turn back or keep following the looping track, and as we stopped, I noticed a shaft of light amongst the green where the sun was still trying to peep through. Where the light landed was where I had found this young acorn, perfectly placed on the oak leaf. This image required no editing and speaks for itself.

There is a form of old Celtic symbolism associated with the acorn, of security and abundance, of antiquity and strength. Folklore describes the acorn as bringing luck and would ward off illness when carried. When planted in the moonlight, it would bring prosperity to your home and when placed on a windowsill, could protect from lightening in the sunlight and bring money in the moonshine. Whilst folklore doesn’t necessarily apply to today's realities, it brought about a sense of hope to those who harbored in its magic. Also associated with the acorn and in particular, the oak tree into which it ages is wisdom and strength. Everything takes time and energy that we gather from each other, our natural surroundings and ourselves. Life takes time and in a society that promotes the fast and furious deadlines and lifestyles, we could learn a thing or two from the humble acorn and its life process.

This image is one that instills in me serenity, ease and a patience that helps me to feel wise and strong during the tougher moments in my life, whilst encouraging me to appreciate the good, positive moments in equal measure. It reminds me to appreciate the natural flow, mutations and adaptations of the world we are a part of, whether good or bad, and that everything comes full circle at its own pace.

I hope by sharing this story and imagery with you, it encourages you to take a moment out of your life to appreciate the lessons that surround us in nature and her full glory.