Musings

It is 4AM. I, having been startled awake by a nightmare, took a turn above-decks to clear my head. A brilliant blanket of stars awaited me, of course, but I was also tantalized by the hypnotic shusssshing of the wind generator, turning over in the pleasant breeze. Small waves gently nudged Delilah, creating an underlying murmur. Anchor lights competed with the stars overhead. In the southern distance, perhaps 40 miles away, an enormous lightning storm provided me a personal, silent lightshow. I was, as I was suddenly aware, enthralled by the sublime. This has been happening more and more to me, and I reckon that it is possibly the best side effect of our nearly year-long sailing adventure.

Recently, we went with Kim and David from Amanzi and Ian from Nancy Dawson to snorkel on the eastern side of Calvigny Island (a privately-owned island being turned, slowly, into a personal resort for a "French billionaire," we are told). At first I was not impressed by the reef, having seen much clearer water elsewhere, and much more vibrant reefs. However, when I slowed my pace and hovered two feet above the bottom, I was taken in by a small red fish, swimming in tiny erratic circles. I couldn't for the life of me imagine what would provoke such behavior. The fish certainly wasn't eating and didn't appear to be guarding young, etc. Minutes later, I finned across another fish, only thumb-sized, of the darkest black, with minute, preposterously brilliant blue dots. I watched for perhaps 5 minutes. Further on, just the claw of a small crab was visible, poking from a hole. The crab was delicately pulling seaweed from around the hole. His actions appeared so human-like I found myself with a huge smile on my face, as I was pushed about, as e. e. cummings would have it, by the "bulge and nuzzle of the sea."

My sincere hope is to remember how to embrace such smallness in the midst of city life. Where is the beauty when stuck in traffic on I-93? It's there, certainly, awaiting me.