From vast oceans whose secret depths are as alien and unknown as space, to lakes whose calm surfaces glaze our land like shining mirrors, to mighty rivers rushing headlong towards the sea, to floods that uproot our land, our dwellings, ourselves and drag us along in that mad rush, to the noisy brooks where our children love to play and our philosophers to meditate, to the rain that drops from above in gentle sprinkles or torrential blasts, to snow and ice which, though frozen, retain Water's essence. To the water we drink, use to clean our bodies, heat to cook our food. To, finally, the water which is the major constituent of our bodies and the one overriding necessity for our kind of life.
Water is all this, and more. It is companion to Earth, opponent to Fire, and complement to Air. But our ancestors did not know Water as we do. To them, it was a rarity, something to be preserved and treasured. They had enough to live, and even some for recreational and aesthetic uses. But always it was a precious resource, something that must needs be carefully hoarded and always reused.
Paradoxically, their lack of water may have made them more familiar with its essence than we who enjoy it in plenty. We are so accustomed to water that we rarely stop to think about its wonder, its preciousness, its irreplacibility in our lives. When it rains, we are indifferent or annoyed. Our foremothers would have gazed in awe at the miracle.
Perhaps this obsession with Water led to the Vulcans' eventual fate, that fate which we fled. For by embracing logic and rejecting emotion, they willingly immersed themselves in the ocean's shadowy depths, never to wholly emerge. So deep in Water, they thought to be safe from the destructive Fires of passion.
But even without knowledge of the Elements, our ancestors saw that this was not a solution. Sublimating half our nature was too great a sacrifice by far. We chose a middle path, accepting logic and emotion, stability and change, as central and desirable parts of our being which we would not surrender. Instead we sought a balance, and by and large we have found it.
To understand the Vulcans' path -- and ours as well -- we must try to understand Water itself. Water is an essential constituent of most types of life; hominids may be seen as nothing more than "ugly bags of mostly water." Water's flow is ceaseless, slowly but surely doing Time's work, erasing all evidence of our passing. In ancient legends, it is often said that running water will brook no magic, whether good or evil, but washes it away as if it had never been. Magical creatures are often unable to cross a barrier of Water.
Water endures, but it does so quietly, and rather than resisting change it allows change to pass through it, ruffling its surface but powerless to affect its depths.
Just as we can immerse ourselves in Water, blind to and removed from everything outside, so we may immerse ourselves in work, in play, in thought. When we achieve total focus and concentration, completely oblivious to the outside world, then it is that we feel Water's essence.
She whose Element is Water is apt to seem "cool, calm, and collected." Her emotions may be strong, but she doesn't show them; they run deep and silent, buried far beneath her normal personality. Rather, she behaves logically and rationally. She enjoys solitude and is not afraid of being alone. In life, she seeks knowledge rather than power.