Waiting for morning to come
I’ll admit it, Yoga at 5:15 AM this morning felt cold and lonely. Sure it was 9 degrees outside which had a lot to do with it, and yes, the cat had fun torturing my feet as I was in the downward facing dog position, but it was something else too. I felt the sense of being in the middle without seeing the shoreline on either side. Not exactly being adrift, but feeling dislocated.
A million odd years ago I took at windjammer type cruise in the Caribbean. The trip was on an old Maine Schooner (built in the early 1900’s), with about 30 passengers and crew. The attraction to the voyage was that the trip was an actual crossing: starting out in St. Martin’s making our way to such islands as St. Barts, St. Kitts and Saba Island towards the final destination of St. Thomas. At one point on the trip, we were a sea with no land in sight. I would cast my eyes about all 360 degrees and watch the shimmering waters as they met the horizon, catching the phenomenon of differing weather systems interacting: here a sudden squall, there beams of sunlight pushing their way insistently through the gaps in the clouds.
It put me in mind of the months and years that sailors would ply the waters of the Atlantic, the Pacific and the Indian oceans in search of whale or spices or for sheer exploration. Not that a vacation tour or a stint in the dark can in any way equate, but yet we do find ourselves in the momentary panic of being adrift when in fact is we are on course. It’s just that we can’t quite see it yet. Yes the light *will* eventually peak up and over the horizon this morning, as surely as the vessel I traveled on made its way forward till we saw land, still, I needed to feel reassured and finding it have gone on to embrace the day — whenever it wakes up enough to show itself.