Note: I wrote this sometime during the summer of 2005 (I think) and just recently found it on a file on my computer.


We went to the shipyard where we keep our sailboat, and the light was reflecting off the water, and a man was fishing on a bridge, and the air was cool and wet with the rain that had just passed. I wondered if you'd ever been sailing before, and how you felt about being out on the water. For me, there's this immense tranquility, like peace itself is a blanket that falls over you, wraps you up, insulates you from the world, but without disconnecting you. You watch all the houses as you go by -- and I thought about how lovely it would be to have a house on the water -- and you watch the gulls fly overhead. You feel the breeze against your skin and you listen to the sound of the waves chopping against the side of the boat. You sit at the front of the boat and you don't worry about where you're going or how you're getting there; the wind and the sails will take care of everything. All you have to do is enjoy.