22.August.25

Simon finally let me take out the boat as the sole skipper. I had been training with him for a year plus months and my skillset had earned a status sufficient enough to take the wheel. About what I was still uncertain, though, was why he insisted we depart after the set of sun—the view most worthy of a horizon heading. I had seen the glow times before and I was hoping to renew the experience as the captain rather than the kid. But, Simon was insistent, so we left the harbour as the others were returning. With a heart as flat as the waves we cut, we sailed into the dark—where water ever so slowly began to turn lambent under the arriving moonlight. *SPLOSH*…*SPLOSH-SPLOSH-SPLOSH* Whatever was that??? The water had been still. I looked toward the sound and, as my chest resuscitated, tears began falling—those of joyous, humbled amazement. Dolphins. Dancing. Everywhere. Simon gently nudged me to the side and took the helm; he knew. What I had not known was that Simon had sailing’s technacy down to a capital T—and I had a long, long way to go. There was more to it than knots and tides and wind directions and sheets and jibs. There was more to it than even the eldest, most expert sailor would know. No manual or course could ever teach what I had learned that day. I knew how to sail and I even knew what to do in cases of chaos. What Simon had taught me that dusky eve—the lesson I still needed—was that it was never about what I knew or what I could do…it was about being both open and okay—and, to be hoped, even excited—about the idea of discovery beyond capable currents. ; )