1.5 The Girl Who Watched Waves
by admin
There was a girl who came from a small town by the sea, and what made her more happy than anything else was to watch waves. She would walk down to the water’s edge, passing the little white houses that speckled the foggy shoreline, until she was right above the water on a rocky ledge or a beach of little stones, and there she would stay for hours, alone, watching the waves rise and fall, crest and crash. The tide would come and go, the fog would roll in and roll out, and still the girl would gaze at the sea.
The other people in the town did not understand why the girl did this. They did not enjoy sitting and staring all day at the water. Instead they built boats, and fished, or they cut down great towering pines, to build their houses, while others cultivated little green gardens and pastures of sheep. The people in the town worked on the land and in the water to make a living, to make food and shelter and things to sell to one another and this was what their forebearers had done, too. But the girl who watched waves did none of this, she did nothing at all, so far as they were concerned, and so to them she seemed quite useless, quite strange.
Is it strange to stare for hours at the surface of the sea? Maybe. Is it less strange to haul fish or fell trees or hammer nails or kill sheep? Maybe.
In any case it so happened that a doctor arrived in the town. Doctors were considered very wise. They trained for many, many years, and became skilled at poking and prodding the living, at peering inside noses and ears and mouths and eyes and saying “this is what is wrong with you” and if you payed them they would tell you how to get better, how to change. Sometimes the doctors gave good advice, and sometimes they didn’t, but in the end very few people were willing to forgo paying for such advice, once they discovered they were sick. Everyone listens to the stories a doctor tells.
So the people in the town decided that they would ask the doctor to look at the girl who watched waves, and talk to her. She would not listen to any of them, but perhaps she would listen to the doctor. If he told her to stop watching waves and come work, then likely she would do just that. The doctor found the girl sitting by the seashore and he began to examine her. He checked her pulse and her temperature, he checked her reflexes and vision, he checked everything. He also talked to her, asking her many questions. When his examination was over the doctor told the girl a story about how she was healthy in her body but sick in her mind. Initially the girl ignored the doctor, and continued to stare out at the sea, untroubled by his words. But the doctor’s diagnosis had planted a seed of doubt. Before he went away the doctor told the girl that it was not healthy to sit apart from the townsfolk, to shun their company and way of life in favour of the grey churning water. Such behaviour was called “antisocial” and “melancholy” and these were characteristics of someone who was ill.
These words began to churn in the girl’s mind, just like the grey water. The slosh of waves upon rock seemed to say “sick! sick!” again, and again, while the wind that came reaching from the sea howled sadly, whistling through the ancient pines with a sound like “ill!” For some reason the girl could not sit and watch the water in peace any longer. The doctor’s story about sickness was all around her, in the very salt-air she breathed.
The girl knew, as the townsfolk knew, that it really would be madness to ignore a doctor and his diagnosis. So she got up and left the shore and returned to the foggy little town to work. She tried cutting wood, she tried herding sheep. She worked in the gardens and in the houses. But she was no good at any of it. She was constantly staring out to sea, from a distance, longing to be closer, close enough to watch the waves. But she could not watch waves anymore because the doctor’s words had changed everything. She was ill, now, and when she looked at the sea, she no longer saw waves she saw her illness.
One day the girl who no longer watched waves went out to sea with the fishing boats. She had no skill for other types of work. She tried her hand at hauling nets full of fish and crab and other sea creatures. However, though she had been used to staring at the surface of the sea she was unaccustomed to standing atop it. The waves rocked the boats and the the girl could feel them beneath her. She smiled, to be reminded of the presence of her previous waves, but as she paused she lost balance and slipped. She could not swim, so she was washed away and drowned.
The people in the town by the sea would tell this tale and say, in the end, that the doctor simply told his story too late. If the girl had never been allowed to watch the waves at all, perhaps she would have learned to work in the woods or the pastures or water, like the other townsfolk. But as it was her illness festered, she was too sick to be saved, they said. No one thought to suggest that the doctor should have never diagnosed her at all. Madness.
Hi Anne,
I really enjoyed reading your story. I liked how descriptive, yet concise your writing was, and I thought the themes of listening to others (rather than oneself) to be interesting and relevant. (E.g. from my understanding, it seems that diagnoses can sometimes actually be detrimental, depending on the context/scenario.)
One of the things that struck me while reading your story was the role of stories not only in shaping the girl’s life, but in giving authority to the doctor. The people living in the village seemed to have an idea that what the doctor said would be wise and correct, and it made me wonder what kind of stories and prejudices this knowledge of the doctor came from (it seemed that these stories were also quite powerful for the people in the village). This prompted me to think about the stories within your story that seemed to be getting referenced, and to think about the way the other characters perceived the doctor, or the girl, in the story seemed to affect how much authority they had, or how much their story was listened to/heard. (I wonder how stories can/do affect perceptions, or the idea of authority, in our own lives.)
Also, I loved reading your story and I was curious if you had the chance to also share it aloud with someone, and, if so, if this changed the story for you?
Anyhow, thanks for the story and post—I look forward to connecting with you more soon!
– Kaylie
Hi Kaylie,
Thank you so much for such an insightful response! I’m glad you took note of my emphasis on the negative impact of the doctor’s diagnosis, and also the discrepancy in authority accorded to the doctor vs the girl. I think there was a critique of patriarchy woven into their exchange which was actually unintentional (but apropos on retrospect). I think, in terms of prejudices, I was simply trying to reference the way in which people so often accede to the judgement of individuals with some sort of institution as their backup: doctors or teachers or religious officials etc, who represent graduates from some institution of learning, which ultimately acts as their guarantor, a confirmation of the validity of their views and actions. I think this uncritical deference to figures representing power is often representative of a blindness which can be destructive.
cool point about lack of proper criticism that is given to people of power. so many doctors/teachers/religious officials have paper behind their name but have never learned how to be compassionate, non-violent communicators and trauma informed, and so they daily use their positions of power over people without knowing how to actually dignify people and let people be in charge of their own paths. i again would tie that into capitalist values – if we weren’t such a productivity driven society, maybe we would see emotional intelligence as the integral thing it is for our work and lives.
I love your writing. It is so amazing.
I could end my comment there, but I don’t think it’s enough to count as a comment.
After reading so many stories (all great in their own ways), your post has stayed with me. I thought you really did keep the moral of the original, but you have taken it to a new place.
I saw your story as if it were a painting. You have wonderful imagery, and I thought your irony – that the doctor calling the girl mad made her mad, was quite impactful.
Also, it reminded my slightly of an Greek myth. In particular, it reminds me a bit of Echo. Echo withers away out of loving someone who doesn’t love her. The idea that a woman fades away into only a legend is quite strong in both your story as well as the myth.
Really good! I am going to go read your other posts now…:)
Tillie
Hi Tillie,
Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m really glad you felt moved by the imagery, because that was definitely an aspect of the story I tried to emphasize. I find that in life and also in art, for me anyway, atmosphere is an incredibly potent factor in the determination of mood and the creation of meaning.
Hopefully my future posts won’t disappoint (nervous) !
Anne
Hi Anne,
I really enjoyed your story! It was beautifully written, and flowed so nicely. I liked that the characters had no names, as it made the moral more universal and somehow personal.
I’m curious about the role doctors play in the story. Doctors and medical professionals typically follow the scientific method, a logical and evidence-based approach to problem solving. I think it’s interesting to juxtapose this with the doctor’s diagnosis serving as the root of evil in the story. Are you suggesting that even when you follow the most logical and well-intended course of action, you can still introduce evil into the world? Do you think that evil is unavoidable?
Thanks for a great story, looking forward to reading more!
– Mikayla
Hi Mikayla,
I’m glad you enjoyed the story! To be honest, I’m not sure that I intended to portray the diagnosis as the root of evil. I had intended that the story emphasized the fact that stories once told cannot be untold. However, thinking about it, the root of evil and it’s relationship with the doctors diagnosis still comes into play, after all, and I thank you for drawing my attention to this rather unintentional element. The diagnosis, while central and destructive, isn’t even the key factor in the birth of evil, rather, it’s the act of attempting to describe, to analyze and repair, what perhaps needed no description, analysis, or repair. Basically, I’m trying to illustrate that the problem in this story is not the girl, the problem is the communal impulse to enforce conformity and the scientific impulse to qualify and label and normalize.
hi anne!
gorgeous story. thank you for highlighting the negative impact of perceptions and the creation of “mental illness”. mental illness, and disabilities have all been used to make a hierarchy of abilities so that certain abilities are seen as better and others are seen as worse. i find myself that capitalism has really played into our societal values in this, and every other regard. we value people/things/skills that produce more money faster. value depends entirely on money in the end, instead of value that should come from nature, beauty, art, song, dance for the sake of dance, etc etc. those things are typically only valued if they make money, and if they don’t, then they are lesser on the hierarchical scale.
i really likes your story.
best,
stephanie
Hi Stephanie,
I apologize for my delayed response!
Thank you SO MUCH for your comment! You picked up on a lot of the underlying issues and themes that I was working with in my story. Perhaps your perceptiveness here has a lot to do with your interest in power hierarchies. The hierarchies created and propagated in society surrounding the ill are hugely important in my life. As a woman struggling with mental illness I have to live with the pressure to normalize, to at least perform normativity, or face social discrimination and even ostrisization. It’s frightening. What I’m particularly glad to see you mention is the role of capitalism in this context! Have you heard of “sick woman theory?” It’s very interesting, you may want to look into it. I won’t go into great detail, it suffices to simply illustrate the fact that any individual in a capitalist society who is unable to produce or consume at the average rate is persona non grata. With physically ill individuals it’s often a little easier to excuse. But with mental illness, which isn’t typically tangible in a physical way, society has a real inability to understand or empathize with people who ultimately seem lazy, innert, weak. Society is reluctant to accommodate such individuals. It’s easier and more productive to capitalist interests to enforce uniformity, and ostracize those for whom this uniformity is impossible.
Sorry, I rambled. It’s an issue I’m pretty passionate about.
hey again!
i have not heard of sick woman theory. thank you for mentioning it, i am going to do more reading on it. very well put response! i hope you continue to write on this subject that you are passionate about because you make a very clear argument for it! i agree though, as a woman who is what most refer to as being mentally ill, we face a lot of danger through discrimination. a culture that despises, impoverishes and marginalizes diversity in mental functioning is a culture that is unsafe. culture of acceptance and diversity is what saves lives. xo