Wallowing
The Southern Cross hangs slightly crooked on the horizon. It will slowly shift itself to upright and then fall to the opposite side by morning light. I will be half asleep in my bunk then, midnight to two watch over, dreaming of washing machines and tornadoes as I'm jostled and smooshed against the
leecloth
hull
leecloth
hull
in this broad reaching wallow.
But it is 1am now and my hands hold salty wood and metal. I can't see the waves but I feel their constant tugging, feel them nudge and shove and slap this fiberglass playmate. The compass is dark, the lightbulb blown. I can't see the directions, numbers, course. I am ruled by a slowly rotating disc in turn dictated by a sliver of metal pointing to a wintery north I cannot imagine in this warm breeze. I shift my eyes to more current technology: a digital readout of our heading shifts by the moment
243
220
239
255
and is near impossible to steer by. I work against the waves as we slide over crests and deep into troughs, water rising above the height of the combing. The sea douses me with briny fingers and dumps foamy deluges into the cockpit. My hair is plastered against my face as I squint at the compasses old and new, trying to force a steady course as the following seas pick up the ass-end of the boat and push her (me) aside.
Another splash, another curse, my arms grow weary.
I give up on maintaining the strictest course.
I gaze past the shrouds at the stars.
The thoughts roll in: first light and variable and then bam, an unforecasted cold front. I am knocked down by the force of memories. I try to push them aside, think happy things, be love and all that but soon my mind circles back to thoughts darker than the spaces between stars.
All those things I wish I hadn't said or all those things I wish I had. All those houses I could've settled into to lead a 'normal' life. All those kids/businesses/books I could have birthed by now. Those very few but far too scary drunken nights doing stupid shit to avoid painful emotions when in reality what I really needed to do was cry into the sea. Or scream into the wind. Or open my heart up so much it risked breaking what already felt broken but was actually so tightly wound it was suffocating.
A wave splashes over the bow, reminding me where who how I am now.
Sirius catches my eye and sparkling forgiveness shines down on me.
I breathe in deep, hold on tightly to the wheel, feel the salt on my skin. A wave passes over me but this time instead of a soaking spray of seawater it is a diaphanous sheet of relief. The squall has passed! A smile breaks over my wet face and I laugh up to Orion, his sword held high and bright in the darkness. EVERY choice, good or bad, whether I thought I was in control or not, has led me to THIS very moment. And this moment is pretty fucking cool so there are no mistakes, there can be no regrets as there is only the one path that is made with choice after choice.
I am on course. When I drifted off, staring soft up at the stars instead of the compass, my body felt where the boat (we) needed to go. All those little adjustments were made without my busy mind getting involved. I am steering by the stars, or rather, they are steering through me when I ease up and let the universe guide me home.
leecloth
hull
leecloth
hull
in this broad reaching wallow.
But it is 1am now and my hands hold salty wood and metal. I can't see the waves but I feel their constant tugging, feel them nudge and shove and slap this fiberglass playmate. The compass is dark, the lightbulb blown. I can't see the directions, numbers, course. I am ruled by a slowly rotating disc in turn dictated by a sliver of metal pointing to a wintery north I cannot imagine in this warm breeze. I shift my eyes to more current technology: a digital readout of our heading shifts by the moment
243
220
239
255
and is near impossible to steer by. I work against the waves as we slide over crests and deep into troughs, water rising above the height of the combing. The sea douses me with briny fingers and dumps foamy deluges into the cockpit. My hair is plastered against my face as I squint at the compasses old and new, trying to force a steady course as the following seas pick up the ass-end of the boat and push her (me) aside.
Another splash, another curse, my arms grow weary.
I give up on maintaining the strictest course.
I gaze past the shrouds at the stars.
The thoughts roll in: first light and variable and then bam, an unforecasted cold front. I am knocked down by the force of memories. I try to push them aside, think happy things, be love and all that but soon my mind circles back to thoughts darker than the spaces between stars.
All those things I wish I hadn't said or all those things I wish I had. All those houses I could've settled into to lead a 'normal' life. All those kids/businesses/books I could have birthed by now. Those very few but far too scary drunken nights doing stupid shit to avoid painful emotions when in reality what I really needed to do was cry into the sea. Or scream into the wind. Or open my heart up so much it risked breaking what already felt broken but was actually so tightly wound it was suffocating.
A wave splashes over the bow, reminding me where who how I am now.
Sirius catches my eye and sparkling forgiveness shines down on me.
I breathe in deep, hold on tightly to the wheel, feel the salt on my skin. A wave passes over me but this time instead of a soaking spray of seawater it is a diaphanous sheet of relief. The squall has passed! A smile breaks over my wet face and I laugh up to Orion, his sword held high and bright in the darkness. EVERY choice, good or bad, whether I thought I was in control or not, has led me to THIS very moment. And this moment is pretty fucking cool so there are no mistakes, there can be no regrets as there is only the one path that is made with choice after choice.
I am on course. When I drifted off, staring soft up at the stars instead of the compass, my body felt where the boat (we) needed to go. All those little adjustments were made without my busy mind getting involved. I am steering by the stars, or rather, they are steering through me when I ease up and let the universe guide me home.
Comments