The Strangeness of Solitude

According to the Chumash, dolphins are humans that fell from a rainbow.

Their Creator built a rainbow over the Pacific Ocean so people could cross from the islands to the mainland. Creator warned them not to look down or they would fall to their deaths. Some people couldn’t help but look down as they crossed, and those who did immediately fell towards the water. As they were falling Creator took mercy upon them and turned them into dolphins.

I have always loved that myth, but when I look at the sea and think about the interconnectivity between the sea and the earth and the heavens, I can’t help but think that I would write it the other way around. My version of that myth would say that humans are dolphins who fell onto the rainbow.

I believe that all forms of life on earth evolved from the sea and therefore the sea is the mother of all living things, the great goddess of life. I believe that in the absence of her, life would cease to exist and that beneath her waves rests a record of the beginning and end of time. I believe that she is the vibration of both chaos and order and that there is a piece of her within in each of us.

We are but just drops of the same ocean.

One matrix interwoven.

Are the earth and I not made of mostly water? Is the amount of salt in the sea not equivalent to the amount of salt in the blood of my body? Does saltwater not fall from my eyes when I cry and my pores when I sweat? Are the tides of the sea not controlled by the cycle or the moon and is my cycle as a woman not one in the very same?

I look out at the sea and witness eternity on the horizon.

I watch as the clouds crawl across the morning. I watch as the wind rises to a scream and falls to a whisper. I watch as the sun breaks free of the clouds that held her captive and let’s her light parade down to turn the indigo waves into silver. I watch the day sink into an orchestra of color before fading from blue to black. And I watch as stars flicker into existence.

I watch it all from the strangeness of solitude.

The wind is at a 90 degree angle to Juniper now. It is the beam reach that I have been praying for. She sits flatter on the sea and rocks gently into the swell. All sails are flying and she is gliding across the water faster than she ever has before. Sometimes 7, sometimes 8 knots.

In the middle of the night the boom was slamming back and forth in the wake of the waves, so I woke up and fastened it down with a preventer. She’s been as quiet as a church mouse ever since.

This morning I noticed that my batteries were almost dead, so I disengaged the windvane and ran the engine for an hour. While they charged I cleaned and organized the cabin, pumped the bilge, cried because I was so happy to be alive, and danced around naked because nobody was looking.

Life on the water is reduced to sail changes, problem solving, writing, daydreaming, eating and sleeping. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

18 Replies to “The Strangeness of Solitude”

  1. That’s sooo beautiful, Olivia. You truly have been given a gift to pen words where the person reading feels through their five senses exactly what you’ve penned. It’s beautiful . Thank you for letting us vicariously experience this journey (in so many ways) with you 💗⛵️💗.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love “dancing naked because I can”❣️ …and the thoughts that come and the words that pour forth in the absence of noise. ❤️

    Would someone please provide The Divine Miss O’s sea email address in the comments?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Waiting for your post, it seems you had a calmer day and picking up some speed, love those dolphins 🐬 if you can take a picture
    Love to see them watching over you on your journey. Sleep well, prayers on the way.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I never thought of the ocean like that, but it’s true! As babies in the womb, we’re sheltered in salt water, floating in darkness, dependent, learning to trust. Our mothers bounce and rock us in their arms to soothe us. Our love and need of beaches, lakes, streams, rain – all things water…is strong. That’s why I sit on the cruise ship’s balcony, away from the crowds, thinking of everything, yet thinking of nothing. You learn to roll with things, not to fight them. Sometimes the sea challenges you, but then it rallies and encourages you. You can’t fight it. You learn to cooperate.
    You’ve got all we really need right there. I think I understand.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Send one paragraph of total sailor geek news (oil in diesel, how much fuel on board, ditch bag,EPIRP, head pumping at sea, Duttons, favorite knots, pump out methods, dingy motor, anchors, sea anchors, tri-sails, etc – I want it all.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Now your talk dear sailress you found the peace you’ve been waiting for however I hope you still had your tie on to the boat while you danced to the rhythm of the oceans beauty! Wonderful writing marvelous picture keep it up especially food and fluid!

    Liked by 1 person

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