Human senses develop in utero at different rates, and the first to develop is our sense of touch or skin sensitivity. So, before we heard or saw anything, we felt ourselves floating in liquid. Our earliest relationship was with water.
This primal thought keeps me afloat as I work on the most challenging project of my career, the creation of a feature film called The Water Clock. We’ve all heard the statement, “Water is life.” But this film goes further. Water is in us. Water is us. Before we were held by anyone, we were held by a pool of water, warm and comfortable. It may have vibrated with the rhythm of our heartbeat. Before we knew anything else about life, we floated, we lived in water.
The premise of The Water Clock takes another leap. Water contains elements like minerals and living matter such as algae that photosynthesize, so we can claim that water is alive. Plants use water to photosynthesize and add oxygen to our atmosphere, but the leap of thought implies that it can happen in bodies of water too. Water makes up about 71% of the earth’s surface. It exists as vapor in the air, as a solid in ice and glaciers, as soil moisture in the ground and as a good percentage of all plants and creatures — yes, that includes us humans! Water, especially in its liquid form, is what makes our planet unique and makes it habitable.
If we are related to, made up of and completely dependent on water, why wouldn’t we want to expand our study of and perhaps even communications with this rather close relative?
The summer that I turned three years old, I learned to swim. A family friend was starting a swim school and asked my parents if their toddler might help him demonstrate our natural ability to swim. I remember a crowd of people on bleachers watching him teach me, first to float, then to put my face in the water. The instructor held my belly as I wriggled like a fish. In a few minutes, I was swimming and the crowd went wild.
I’m sure the noise and attention were fun, but I distinctly recall the comfort instilled by his quiet voice, assuring me that the water was a safe place. By early youth, I was a swim racer, diver and lifeguard. Water was where I loved to be, whenever and wherever possible. I swam just about anywhere, in rivers, lakes, pools, very cold lakes and very cold oceans. My mother called me “Tadpole.”
I know I am fortunate to have had such an early introduction to and comfort with water. Many people develop a valid fear of water, and some never find a way through it. But even those who go to great lengths to avoid a body of water still use it for nearly everything, from cleaning and washing to cooking and drinking.
If we humans are going to change our climate denial trajectory and create more balance with nature, a major cultural paradigm shift is needed. Indigenous Peoples have always believed that the earth and its elements are living things, but our modern world treats the earth as a consumable product. By contrast, The Water Clock movie’s reluctant hero thinks humans are in a race to devour everything.
The theme of this film is “modern science meets ancient wisdom.” That alone is a paradigm shift since so many of the stories any of us have ever heard are more like “modern science versus ancient wisdom.” For hundreds of years since the Age of Enlightenment, ancient wisdom has been largely treated as primitive or irrelevant. The modern human seems determined to conquer the elements, as opposed to living in balance with them.
The Water Clock is a feature-length drama, not a documentary, but it is still based on science. There are also some fanciful, time-bending, surreal scenes, from quantum physics to solid spelunking. The tale takes place in my home state of New Mexico, one of the driest parts of the southwest and a place where few dispute the sacred aspects of water. We follow the myths, spirituality and politics surrounding water with acute respect and keen observations of the water cycle. Some of us have seen a Native American rain-dance — and its results. This fictional tale isn’t sourced from any particular tribal tradition, but rather the concept of “nature as teacher,” a common theme among all Indigenous Peoples.
Rio Grande near Taos, New Mexico
People ask me how I came up with the idea. I woke one morning with the words “water clock” in my thoughts and had no idea what that was or if it even existed, so I searched. A water clock is a 3,000-year-old Egyptian device, also known as a “clepsydra,” that measures time by the flow of water through it.
I had visited Egypt in 2012 and sat on the terrace of the Old Cataract Hotel on the shore of the Nile River in Aswan, the place where Agatha Christie lived while writing Death on the Nile. There were quite a few grand and mysterious boats in that harbor and I was sure I could write a story about one. Add the “water clock” and away went my imagination. There’s a scene I wrote where the river water disappears and I always thought it would be filmed in a dry arroyo in New Mexico. After a few drafts, more and more scenes were morphing from Egypt to New Mexico, and eventually it became clear to me that the old stone bowl in the story was from New Mexico’s pre-history and it tells “much more than time.”
The Water Clock is a timely and thought-provoking cli-fi (climate fiction) drama that follows a non-binary protagonist with a family relic, the Water Clock, a stone bowl with mysterious powers. The young farmer who first introduces the Water Clock, Orinday, is a visionary recluse living on the outskirts of society, convinced that humanity is in a race to consume all of earth’s resources. He was an abused child who was then adopted at an early age by a Native American nurse who understood his unique connection to nature. She raised Orinday to protect and nurture her family’s ancient relic, the Water Clock.
In the opening scene when Orinday wakes in a panic, he’s sure that the old bowl has been called into service by his dead grandmother. He seeks out a famous water scientist to validate the mysterious stone bowl, but she calls the relic primitive and dismisses Orinday. Knowing that the crystal-clear language of water mirrors quantum physics, he refuses to give up and launches on an adventure with an extraordinary climax. While trapped in an underground aquifer, the scientist finally realizes Orinday’s Water Clock actually proves her recent findings about the “fourth phase of water.” Modern science and ancient wisdom come face to face as water protectors reveal a massive version of the stone bowl deep underground. Water is not only alive but also communicating new information about life on earth.
Dr. Gerald Pollack, professor of bio-engineering at the University of Washington, posited a few years ago a “fourth phase of water” based on crystallization and the communication between positive and negative electrons. He claimed this “social” interaction creates a phase of water between a solid and a liquid, with unique properties and even a different molecular structure than H2O. In his TED Talk, “The Fourth Phase of Water,” Dr. Pollack indicated that this molecular interaction could be a form of free energy, offering an inexpensive way to desalinate ocean water.
I based some of The Water Clock science on what Dr. Pollack describes as “social” interactions among water molecules. He says modern science has limited the qualities of water with the single molecular H2O structure. He illustrates his point with clouds. We know surface water evaporates and rises to become clouds. But why doesn’t the whole sky become a cloud? Could “social” interactions happen in the air that cause vapors to gather in different ways and places? Is this phenomenon happening in bodies of water?
In other words, there’s a lot we don’t know about water. No wonder we tend to take it for granted!
Just because we’re born in water and surrounded by it all over our planet doesn’t give it more significance than other elements. And how dare I try to give it a social life? Or allow it to escape its molecular boundaries? Otherwise, what could be next? We’ll start naming bodies of water and large storms! Oh, right. We already do that.
Any way you look at it, we exist because of water. We humans will live and die with water. In The Water Clock, the characters get to share timeless wisdom about our living earth and its prime element of water. The earth has been telling its own story for millennia. This one hopes to inspire new conversations and activism on water’s behalf.
Marjorie Glacier, Alaska
What’s next? Our award-winning script is making waves on the international film festival circuit, and has secured Official Selection status at three prestigious screenwriting events, garnering several prizes that will help promote the project’s development. Los Angeles-based FEEDBACK Female Film Festival (FFFF), which champions female filmmakers, announced The Water Clock as their Award Winner. LGBTQ Unbordered International Film Festival in Rehoboth Beach, DE, also recognized The Water Clock script as an Award Winner.
The International Indie Film and Screenplay Festival (IIFSF), a Paris-based festival, has nominated The Water Clock for Best Feature Film Screenplay. I will attend the black-tie award gala in Vienna, Austria, in December this year, where winners will be announced.
I’ve worked with the Albuquerque Film and Media Incubator to develop a pitch deck to attract investors, actors, a director and other talent. Please inquire if you or someone you know is interested in getting involved. We intend to film entirely in New Mexico, and believe this film will offer new perspectives on our state’s unique respect for water.
Sheil can be reached at ss@ravenkind.com.
All photos by Debra Denker.
