I wanted to learn to read the wind, to harness its power and feel the surge of the boat slicing through the waves. I wanted the exhilaration of being one with nature. Only now do I realize each sailing lesson is like a Petoskey stone, a rare treasure to be pulled from my pocket when puzzled, when storm clouds rumble ominously around me, when life seems to stall and I feel I can no longer breathe.
One can sail any compass heading save that which points directly into the wind. Therefore, when face-to-face in a blustering blow or even the breath of a breeze, to sail forward one must first “fall off” the wind, honoring its direction.
The same is true with relationships.
7/21/2015 08:27:13 am
I love this one, Mary, especially the picture. I'm mesmerized by it.
7/21/2015 01:57:44 pm
Oh, Petoskey stones! Sooooo Michigan. I carry a piece of green glass shaped like a smooth stone in my pocket. It once had "Love" painted on it, but that has long since worn away. I know what it says, however, and I put my hand in my pocket and rub the stone whenever I want to choose love in a situation. That's always, of course.
7/22/2015 03:02:45 am
My God Mary. Who are you?! Woman Who Is One With the Wind AND The Breath of a Breeze. Power and Subtlety. That's you and that EXACTLY is your writing. The last sentence was like a gigantic wave exploding upward--as if against a break-wall. I am drenched...and humbled.
7/23/2015 03:13:44 am
Isn't this called tacking? When you sort of zigzag sail into the wind. Reminds me of tactful. Full of tacking.
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