TalkShop Fieldtrip: VIENNA WATER TOWER
When we encountered water in different ways, we also encountered different parts of ourselves. As we drank it, we became aware of its immediate presence in our bodies. Some of us felt relief, comfort, and nourishment. Others visualised beautiful moments of stillness. Yet others noticed how it softens the throat. Drinking water mindfully reminded us that life flows through us just as water flows through rivers and streams.
The first video shows water without context, reflecting clouds, colours, and light. We listened to silence. Some were floating and noticed their heartbeat. Water became a mirror, inviting us into a quieter relationship with ourselves.
The second video, a moving fountain in the park, the wind, and the dancing leaves, evoked memories of nature: mountain landscapes, rippling creeks, and places where we once felt connected, calm, and alive. Water seems to bring movement and stillness together in a fascinating way.
At the city beach (third video), our attention widened. We realised how deeply water is woven into everyday life. We drink it, cook with it, wash with it, grow food with it, and build our lives around it. Water is present in plants, animals, objects (eg, furniture), and people. It surrounds us so completely that we often stop noticing its presence.
At the same time, we became aware of a tension: We tend to hold romantic images of pristine springs and flowing rivers, yet every glass of water reaches us through an invisible network of technology and care. Climbing the Water Tower reminded us that water is both a gift of nature and a collective achievement, raising questions like these: How much water do we use or waste? What (good or not so good) habits have we normalised? What can we learn from earlier generations who treated water with greater care? Is it necessary to take a shower every day?
Of course, water is not only gentle and life-giving. It can also flood, erode, and transform landscapes. Its power reminds us that we are not separate from nature but part of it. Perhaps this is why water is so precious for us. Not because it is rare, but because it sustains everything, permanently. A pearl.
Karin's poem has something very appealing: it stays close to the bodily experience of drinking water and treats water almost as a lifelong companion.
It's cool, but not cold.
It swirls around my mouth,
finding every hollow,
every hidden place.
It tastes of quenched thirst,
of a friend I've known
all my life,
of a lifeline
reaching every cell
of my body.
I swallow,
and it travels downward,
all the way into my stomach.
I can feel its arrival—
settling in,
making itself at home,
then quietly dispersing,
joining the endless currents
that carry it
where it is needed most.
Come along,
you next sips—
follow the molecules already gone ahead.
Replenish what was lost
in sweat and effort,
climbing step after step,
until once again
the body flows.
