'til you yourself are a sail

Last month I mentioned that I'd been feeling drawn to the sea, and wondered what I was really trying to say to myself with that feeling. Yesterday, all at once, I figured it out.

When I lost my job, I abruptly found myself in cast out into completely unfamiliar territory, not knowing where I was going, or what lay ahead. I couldn't stay, so I just had to go. If I was going to save myself, I had to take that leap of faith, and leave the shore.

I spent a good deal of time out on open waters. Uncharted waters. There was no going back, and the far shore was nowhere in sight. No wonder the idea of the sea felt so familiar to me: I've spent an entire season and then some trying to find the other shore.

I'm almost there. I wonder how long it will take me to get my land legs back?

And then today I received this in the mail:

The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind. 

Hone and spread your spirit, 'til you yourself are a sail, 

whetted, translucent, 

broadside to the merest puff.

 - Annie Dillard

http://confessionsofasineater.blogspot.com/

the cure for anything

I've had the sea on my mind a lot lately. I've been drawn to images of water and sand and sky. I've been thinking about boats, and anchors, so much so that it feels like "Yeah, a boat on the sea, I know about that, that's something I'm going to do..." As if it's part of my life. Which it isn't.

 I think it's symbolic, my longing for and (totally false) feeling of familiarity with the sea.

 I just have to figure out what it's symbolic of.

I'm sure it's partly to do with not going to Scotland this summer. But it's more than that.

Do you have any ideas?

When I get it figured out I'll let you know...



http://confessionsofasineater.blogspot.com/

something, over and over

Have you ever slept so near the sea that the shushing of the waves was the last sound you heard before you drifted to dreamland? I have, on Berneray, in a thatched cottage with stone walls 3 feet thick, the sea and sand just feet away...

View from our bedroom window, Berneray Hostel

I've been told there's no such thing as a bad view in Scotland, and in 2 summers I've never seen a view to prove that untrue. On Berneray, there seemed to be no such thing as anything less than a heart-tugging view of the sea. 

We spent one entire cold and rainy day in our bunks, piled with blankets and pillows, nestled down with books, only venturing out for cups of steaming tea, and trips to the loo. Even in the rain, we couldn't hurry past the view - the pull is too strong, and would too soon be behind us, for us to squander.

There was a bonfire and BBQ on the beach just past the hostel. The whole village attended, and all the travelers. Proceeds benefited the Berneray Historical Society.

The full moon stopped me in my tracks as I walked to the other cottage for a midnight trip to the restroom. The view caught me like a net every time I went outdoors, or past a window.

Midnight moon over Berneray

From the Isle of Berneray website: Berneray lies in the Sound of Harris in the Western Isles (Outer Hebrides) of Scotland. It is a small island (roughly 2 miles by 3), rich in wildlife and history.

Berneray is especially known for its beaches, such as the cockle bay, east beach, and the long sweep of white sand on the west coast, backed by high dunes and machair.

The approximately 125 permanent residents of Berneray stay mainly along the rockier east coast, forming an active and friendly community. The main industries are a mixture of the traditional (crofting and fishing), and the new (internet services, tourism, information and media work). The ferry which plies the Sound of Harris, connecting Berneray and the Uists to Harris and Lewis, is also a major employer of Berneray residents.

The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper;

 I cannot quite make it out.  ~Annie Dillard

Next up: Portree, Skye!

http://confessionsofasineater.blogspot.com/