Riding the bigger beast

Feathery fuscia clouds welcome me to the car on friday.

Steely grey thursday sunrise over the lake.

When I look at a lake, I look at the surface of the water, and I can tell what's going on out there. I grew up on a lake about this same size, and I learned to sail when I was in gradeschool.

Sailing is one of the most liberating activities that I know. Ahhh, to be riding the wind, bare feet jammed into the struts on the opposite side of the boat, *sparkle of sun on water* leaning with all your weight into the power and the force of the wind. *slap of waves on side of boat* Using your body as a part of the boat to find the perfect heading that lets you skim for one more instant. *hiss of wake* The gigantic sail towering over you, the ripples here and there felt through the singing ropes in hand. And then let out the sail, push the tiller way over, duck the swing of the boom, swirl of lake rotating around you, shove the tiller the other way, flapping of sail, snap as it gathers the wind, brace the foot, lean into it, and you're off again!

I feel in my bones why pre-scientific peoples thought of this force as an entity. A super-person with capricious changes in personality. It must have been irresistible for early sailors, going from the protected lakes and rivers out into the open ocean.

Riding the bigger beast.