Deep Greens and Blues are the colors I choose...

Won't you let me go down in my dreams?

All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible.

T.E. Lawrence

Rx for Adventure

Every morning I get out of bed, shower, drive to work, work, come home, go to bed only to do it over again, and again, and again. I am in perpetual ground hog’s day. Every action I take is merely a reaction. My cruise control is set and I am in overdrive, along for the ride. Clinically, I think the diagnosis is “being in a rut.”

I am bored with being stuck in auto pilot, and the only remedy I know of to treat my condition is to have an adventure. I want to take the wheel, chart my course, and find my own way. Maybe take the boat to St. Augustine, or perhaps south to Peck Lake? The gray of winter is beginning to give way to the light of spring. The days are getting longer. I can smell an adventure around the corner. It's time to move towards the light in search of the cure.

Beautiful Words

Tell me beautiful words;
whisper them into my ear like a guarded secret.

Touch me softly,
as if I were a cherished and fragile work of art.

Dance close to me,
so close that our bodies find a rhythm that is neither yours nor mine alone.

Kiss me passionately;
I want to taste you on my lips.

Look deeply into my blue eyes,
until you see through to my bare soul.

Furmaids

These are my furry little boat friends, Coco She is convinced that she is a princess) and Toto (who thinks his name is "bad kitty!"). While it is true that cats don't like water, these cats love to be on the boat. They love to explore and hide in all the little hidey holes - we are always finding them insides the cupboards and lockers. They also enjoy hanging out in the cockpit and walking/stalking the decks at night.

Along for the Ride

My commute to work takes about 30-45 minutes – time which is generally spent kick starting the gray matter. This morning I pondered the complexity vs. the simplicity of life. How much of our lives are really under our own control? How much is the product of our interaction with other’s lives? Driving my car along the road I have the power to speed up, change lanes, whatever I want to do so long as it does not interfere with the rest of the cogs in the wheel. That seems simple enough. The complicated part is how all the individual pieces fit together in the big puzzle of life. If the car travelling in the opposite direction were to come across the median into my lane of traffic – our individual worlds would collide. In some respects it would seem that we are all living our lives on parallel universes, and that our actions belong to each of us individually. In a micro-view of the world, that may be true. On a bigger scale, our actions do affect those around us. I am a small cog in the big wheel of life – insignificant, while at the same time integral. Am I in control of my own cog individually, or am I turned by the other cogs that are intertwined with mine? Alas I must acknowledge that for the most part I am just along for the ride in the big wheel.

Powerful Advice from Zoltar!

I consulted with Zoltar the Magnificent at the Miami boat show - and by "consulted with" I mean that I stuck my dollar into the slot, and watched Zoltar's robotic eyes and mouth move as he delivered my fortune. He is very wise indeed. He counseled me on the foolishness of wasting time, and that squandered time cannot be reclaimed. Specifically, he said "A wave which has passed cannot be called back, nor can an hour which has gone be returned. Your time will come by and by; there are great things in store for you."

Trying to find Comfort...

in an uncomfortable world...

Thirsting for peace in a sea of angst. Searching for harmony where discord is rampant. Seeking wisdom and understanding from the ignorant.

I looked to Buddha for inspiration this morning:

"Just as treasures are uncovered from the earth, so virtue appears from good deeds, and wisdom appears from a pure and peaceful mind. To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom and the guidance of virtue."

“In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves.”

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.”

“All that we are is the result of what we have thought. If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him. If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought, happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him.”

A friend of mine, an affluent and “successful” business man, just had a heart attack. He was 55 years old. Our bodies, though flesh and blood, are simply machines. If you overstress a machine, its parts break and it stops working. Life is fragile. Handle it with care.

Life Instructions

Very Important Instructions from the Book of Life:

LIVE Simply

LAUGH Often

LOVE Deeply

....and of course it goes without saying that these lessons are best practiced while floating the oceans in a sailboat.

Amber

This mermaid is for my daughter Amber, a Coastie currently stationed in Michigan (insert "burr" here). While my Amber mermaid is almost as pretty as the real thing, I definitely missed the mark on capturing Amber's personality in this drawing. The photos with this post are a better representation of the real Amber - she is free-spirited, fun loving, and high energy. The drawing is more like Amber's step-ford, charm school, prim/proper alter-ego mermaid.

So Much for Plans...

Tucked into the lee of Great Abaco, our anchorage was nearly still. Outside the protection of the anchorage, the weather was getting ugly. Today we weren’t able to cover much ground on our north bound journey across the Sea of Abaco before the weather prompted us to look for cover. We spent the last few hours precariously making way between storms - trying to outrun the system at our backdoor while staying just clear of another ahead. Black thunder cells were closing in around us, and soon we would be at the mercy of the wind and rain. A respite from the weather was a welcome thought, but alas, a double-edged sword knowing that it would come at the price of a very long haul tomorrow.
We spent the previous night bucking and tugging on anchor behind Spoil Cay (adjacent to Baker’s Bay). The small land mass of Spoil Cay was woefully inadequate in providing any protection from the thunderstorms approaching from the west, and to prove it, no one aboard LaLeLu slept. The rainy season that had only been a whisper of a far away possibility for the first two weeks of our trip was now chasing us down like a bad dream. It’s enlightening to watch the systems develop on a computer screen (courtesy of our satellite weather service). In the early afternoon during the summer months you can see them build over the land masses – with Florida serving as the biggest propagator of storms – and march their way westward over the stream to the Bahamas.
We pulled up anchor at day break this morning with every intention of making some distance north before the thunderstorms filled in. You know that you’re in for an eventful day on the water when it’s already cloudy and humid at dawn. Prior to our anchorage departure, we hailed a boat that had just come through the cut and requested a Whale report. He gave us the thumbs up, and we were on our way. As we headed back around the Whale passage, it marked the homeward leg of our journey. This morning the Whale proved to be surprisingly calm – so calm in fact, that one of our companion boats was able to transfer fuel during the passage. We felt relieved to have hit it in a lull between storms.

There would be a full moon tonight, a Wednesday, and how appropriate for marking the occasion of my 45th birthday. The plan all along, even before we left stateside, had been to rendezvous at the Green Turtle Club on this evening. For our entire trip I had been looking forward to dancing the night away to the Gulley Roosters and howling at the moon on my birthday. “Well, so much for plans,” I thought to myself as I stared across the Sea of Abaco to the shores of Green Turtle. The New Plymouth anchorage was eerily empty. An angry stretch of white-capped water stood between us and White Sound. There was no getting over there today in this weather, and even if we were able to make it, definitely there would be no leaving La Le Lu in the exposed anchorage. No, tonight we would stay here in our anchorage that was well protected from the west.
I resigned myself to spending my 45th in the captivity of the lee shore of Great Abaco, in front of the Ferry Dock (which we un-affectionately dubbed the Ferry Ghetto after a trip ashore). I foraged in the fridge in search of dinner fixins’ – hoping to find something edible that would not require a can-opener. The fridge was nearing empty at this point in the journey. Digging deep behind the freezer box I felt something promising and pulled it free. Score! Two New York strip steaks, still partially frozen. The fresh fruits and veggies were extremely limited and/or gross by this juncture. I was able to find a decent package of shredded cabbage, and, with a little rice-wine vinegar, extra virgin olive oil and some S/P, it would serve as a reasonable facsimile to a salad.
With the steaks sizzling on the rail-mounted Force 10 grill, we sat in the cockpit in quiet reflection, rum cocktail in hand. The storms around us were providing a spectacular show, with clouds that were periodically lit up by flashes of lightening in every direction. There was music playing in the background - something with an island / rake-n-scrape beat – that blended nicely with the rumbling bass of the nearby thunder.

Yesterday was a hard day and we were nearly running on empty as far as sleep. Our buddy-boat was anchored next to us, but they may as well have been 100 miles away as we each had our dingy raised and strapped to our respective decks. We chatted a bit with them on the VHF, and coordinated our plan for the next day’s leg of our exit journey. They were as tired as we – even over the crackling VHF I could recognize the fatigue in their voices, (which I am sure I echoed on my end of the conversation).

As the sun settled down into the horizon, it painted the clouds in ever intensifying shades of red until they looked like they were on fire. Dinner was heralded by the familiar metal-on-metal screech of the grill lid being opened. Although I doubted such was possible, the steaks tasted better then they smelled. We sat in the cockpit enjoying our meal with scarcely a word exchanged between us. We each were caught up in our own moment of introspection.

I remembered again what momentous day this was - my right of passage into the second half of my 4th decade on earth. Certainly, the day had not gone down as I wrote it in my mind’s script. I was exhausted, but at the same time I felt a sense of accomplishment that resonated into a feeling of inner contentment. It was a feeling that you can’t describe to someone who has not been there. At that moment I realized that there was no place I would rather be. I raised my glass to my husband’s and initiated a toast to my 45th. “So much for plans” I declared.

A Self Portrait

I draw Mermaids, because I am one. Well, metaphorically that is. I don’t have a scaly tail, and, although I learned to swim before I could walk, my legs are firmly planted on terra firma. I find the smell of the salt-laden, briney sea mist intoxicating - my skin is hydrated and refreshed by its dampness. The sun streaked tendrils of my hair are generally impossibly tangled and the wave tattoo on my lower-back betrays my passion. I prefer sea glass to diamonds, and would take a pair of Sperry’s over Jimmy Choo’s any day of the week. For me, the ocean is my equilibrium, and sailing on it, my refuge. The call of the sea has more than an abstract meaning for one in whose ears it sings. It sings to me.

MERMAID HUNTER

This drawing reminds me of the episode of Bugs Bunny wherein Elmer Fudd turns to the audience and says "Shhhhhh, I am hunting wabbits." With rifle in hand, he sneaks through the woods while completely oblivious to the fact that Bugs is shadowing his every move. Proof positive that some times things may be closer than you think.

Getting ready for work this Monday morning, my hair dryer died - just quit working. Who cares, I’ll put my hair up in a bun when I get to work. I must have spent too long in the shower or something – it’s ten minutes past my regular departure time. Great, that means traffic. Backing out of the driveway I hear a crunch - crap, I ran into the trailer of my daughter’s sailing dingy. Crap, crap, crap! Getting out of my cute little Mini Cooper to inspect the point of impact I note that it is foggy. That’s it - I am doomed to sit in traffic this morning.

A sea of brake lights unfolds ahead of me on the 408, and I concede that some things in life are beyond my control. The guy in the Mercedes behind me is shaving - where does the hair dust go? On his fine glove-leather seats? I change the Sirius station from the depressing Bloomberg report to Margaritaville, an act affirming that there are things in my life that I have complete control over. The fog lifts and there is a huge, bad moon descending in front of me. Simultaneously, the sun rises behind me. As a wayward ray escapes from the rising sun and hits my side mirror I notice the words “Objects in the mirror are closer than they may appear.” Well, now how ironic is that?

Searching...

My Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea. My Bonnie lies over
the ocean, so bring back my Bonnie to me...

Those words are indelibly carved into my memory in the sweet, soft tone of my grandmother’s voice. When I think of them, I am taken back to a simple time of my youth, nuzzled in granny’s arms, and I can smell the scent of Dove soap that permeated her apartment. Why is it that we spend a lifetime searching, while failing to appreciate what we already have? We yearn for what we don’t have instead of learning to want what we do have. Tangible things are fleeting - it’s the intangible things that are indelible.

This entry is dedicated to my wonderfully loving Grandmother, “Granny Goose” whose memories I will cherish and carry with me throughout my life. I love you granny.

Notice any Similarities?

It has occurred to me that my boat and my blog's namesake Mermaid bear a striking resemblance to one another. The Mermaid's long and un-tamed tendrils of red hair have the same hue and overwhelmingness of the bottom paint covering LaLeLu below her waterline. The blue/green of the Mermaid's scales resembles the color of the water LaLeLu floats upon. According to folklore, Mermaids would fall in love with Sailors and lure them out to sea. The Sailors, intoxicated by their beauty and allure, were powerless to resist. Longing for the companionship of a Mermaid, some Sailors have spent a lifetime searching for just one moment with such a creature, but, as it can be with love, catching a Mermaid can be elusive. Suspended just below the water's surface, but hidden from view to those above, the Mermaid waits and watches. Could that be a face I see in the reflection under my vessel in the photo above as she is suspended above the water? or, could it be that my boat is a Mermaid, and she is calling me, enticing me, to venture off to her dominion?

Lime Green, Tangerine and Fuchsia

Monday morning – 7:17 am – I am sitting in my office looking out the window waiting for my computer stuff to load. Ugggh, day is breaking and it looks like it’s going to be 12 shades of gray. The landscape maintenance guys are busy buzzing, blowing, mowing and such down below my office. I wonder what they are feeling on this gray morning. At least my cup of herbal apple tea looks happy - wearing its horizontal bands of lime green, tangerine and fuchsia - a welcome sight on a morning such as this. You would never see this cup featured in an Rx for depression commercial.

Not quite ready to jump into my overflowing in-box, I decided instead to take an online color / personality test. Below are the results.

“Active, outgoing, and restless. Feels frustrated by the slowness with which events develop along the desired lines. This leads to irritability, changeability, and lack of persistence when pursuing a given objective.

Wishes to be independent, unhampered, and free from any limitation or restriction, other than those which she imposes of herself or by her own choice and decision.

Willing to participate and to allow herself to become involved, but tries to fend off conflict and disturbance in order to reduce tension.

Remains emotionally unattached even when involved in a close relationship.
Feels that she cannot do much about her existing problems and difficulties and that she must make the best of things as they are. Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.

Needs to feel identified with someone or something and wishes to win support by her charm and amiability. Sentimental and yearns for a romantic tenderness.

Seeks to avoid criticism and to prevent restriction of her freedom to act, and to decide for herself by the exercise of great personal charm in her dealings with others."

Some of it seems accurate, I suppose, and some of it, well, nah-uhhh! it is just wrong. I think I'll just go back to staring at the pretty colors on my cup and stop trying to figure me out for now.

The Winds of the Four Directions

This morning I dreamed of the four ancient Gods of the wind: Boreas, God of the North wind, Zephyrus, God of the West wind, Eurus, God of the East Wind, and Notus, God of the South wind. The wind Gods are subservient to Astraeus, their master, who has dominion over all four directions. In my dream the wind Gods were like angels. They appeared as beautiful, winged mythical beings with the grace of a ballerina and the power of an atomic bomb. Each was exquisite to behold, but, like finely honed swords, I understood that their beauty was intrinsically entangled with their ability to inflict pain.

My mind raced to find enlightenment from these Gods of the Wind, for, as every sailor knows, the wind can be friend or foe. It is important - if not imperative - to understand my opponents. In my dream I learned that each of the Gods of the four directions bears certain powers and traits, distinct from one another, and to some degree, predictable.

Zephyrus, the gentlest of the winds, was the most magnificent to behold. He told me that he is the keeper of the rainbow. The other directions think he is the weakest of the four winds, and it is true that he will generally give way to them. His face was illuminated by his wings that were made of spun gold taken from the sun. The nature of the West wind was generally kind and peaceful, but I learned his strength lay in his restraint, wisdom and tenacity. Zephyrus, though not easily provoked, begins his attack softly by caressing his enemy with a gentle, earthy whisper of warm dry air. His enemy cannot resist and instinctively turns his face to greet Zephyrus. To his foes, the gentle caress of the West wind gives way and is gradually replaced by a blast akin to an inferno. Flames spray out his golden lips as he exhales and delivers a breath drawn from the sun. Zephyrus has delivered such an assault on many a sailor, wicking out all form of moisture from his flesh and leaving him withered, cracked and bloodless.

I was then introduced to Notus, who I learned is the great deceiver. She is cunning and wickedly playful. She delights in watching a weary traveler stumble and lose his way as he is blinded by her "gift" of thick fog. By far her greatest strength lies in her ability to lure her victims into her trap. Notus has enticed even the saltiest sailor by whispering a sweet lullaby in his ear. Her soft, moist, warm breath lingers on the sailor’s cheek, and is laced with the intoxicating scent of salt and brine. Every sailor knows the risk of succumbing to the South wind, but alas, all are powerless against her seduction. Once she has rendered her victim defenseless, she unites with Zeus to create great havoc in the sky and sea. Her assault is heralded by deafening claps of thunder followed by searing bolts of lightening. The sea responds by standing straight up in tall, steep, peaks that can send a ship to the bottom like it was riding on rails. The fierceness of her attack, as I came to understand, is commensurate with the degree of warmth and moisture she breathes upon her victim as she is seducing him.

Eurus, the wind of the East, is the most powerful in terms of brute strength, but he is not a vengeful wind. He is not well respected by the other directions, and they mockingly refer to the East wind as “The Great Windbag.” Eurus is simple in nature, and not bothered by a great intelligence. He takes no pleasure in trickery. When he causes a stir, chances are he doesn’t know or mean to do so. Eurus is quick to anger and equally quick to retreat. He has great power but lacks the wisdom to truly harness his power. At first I felt sorry for him in that I knew he had potential he would never be able to reach. I soon came to realize though that the wind of the East has no personal sense of deficiency or inadequacy. How can one miss what they don’t have? Without the wisdom to recognize his own shortcomings, Euros is likewise unable to appreciate any sense of loss.

Unlike Eurus, the North wind is a vengeful wind. The power beheld by Boreas is hailed by men of both the sea and land as the most dreaded of the four directions. Every sailor fears, if not, loathes him. He is strong, brutal and motivated by his insatiable need to conquer. His touch is bitter cold and can turn flesh to ice. Boreas is a dark and foreboding creature, bearing a serpent’s tail and cloven feet. His beard is fringed by small Icicles that twinkle like diamonds. His face is partially obscured by his dark hood, which only permits one a glimpse of the outline of his sharp features. I was afraid to look into his eyes. As I neared his presence the air drew cold and thin. With each breath I took, I felt a chill that reverberated off my ribs and caused my teeth to chatter. Boreas rules his quadrant astride an iron stallion. He devours his enemies by evoking violent storms that send even the best of sea men to the locker of Davey Jones.’

Astraeus, son of Poseidon, was given dominion over the winds. He is the wise father of the sometimes disobedient four directions. His children tolerate and respected each other, but are in a constant battle for supremacy. Their egos are fragile, and, like four billy goats, they constantly butt heads in attempt to gain ground over their siblings. The four directions of the wind can be selfish, spoiled children. When they are in check, there is balance and harmony, but when any one direction gains leeway for too long, havoc can result.

It was only a dream, you say? Maybe so. In truth, I cannot say that I really believe there exists actual entities that rule over the Wind of the four directions, but then again, I am not so sure there aren’t. As a sailor, I know that there is energy that governs the winds and sea. I don’t need to know what that energy is, and maybe it is beyond my comprehension. Nonetheless, I fear, I pay homage, and most of all, I respect the energy of the four directions.