Cesaria Evora Aeropuerto

Faith

The last week has been a blur – ARC seminars, boat chores, provisioning all day; parties and events every night. It will be good to get back to sea, if only to get more rest and dry out! But it’s been AMAZINGLY FUN with new friends, and new perspectives on old friends. I’m so pleased that twists of fate brought me not to Bermuda for the AC45s, nor to Panama (although I am standing by for more fun with Pamela & Paul there, when the time comes) but instead to Gran Canaria.

A long time ago, a cloud hung over my happy life – being that I could not have children, and seemed stymied in all attempts to start a family any way possible. And then one day: boom! I was a Mom! Unlike most people, who have nine months of ‘dawn’ to prepare for a child, I didn’t. I went from barren, to parenthood. It simply went from dark, to light. Glorious light.

So over the past few years – again, despite a very happy life – things have not been 100% what I’ve desired; and yet I’ve held tight to that hope, and that knowledge, that this was just the night, and that one day the sun would burst over the horizon. I think it has.

We set off today for Sao Vicente, Cabo Verde. I don’t’ expect to be online, but you can track EL GATO at http://www.worldcruising.com/arc/arc/eventfleetviewer.aspx  

Keep us in your prayers for a safe passage please!

xo

a few pix from Gran Canaria

The swiftness of night

30 OCT 2015 – 0615hrs

First light hung over the African coast as we approached Las Palmas, Gran Canaria.

We had seen the moon rise over Africa the night before: a deep ochre egg, streaked with clouds. It was not quite full, as if something had glanced over it and shaved off a bit. But it was still huge, and potent; illuminating the deck like a giant spotlight.

The next morning I was up for dawn patrol, and watched the peachy pink of first light paint the eastern sky like a rainbow: bands of pink, pale yellow, goldenrod, cornflower blue, blending into the raven night sky ... blotting out Venus, which just moments before had been so bright; and defining the silhouette of Isla Fuerteventura, now far astern.

Still a dozen miles out of Gran Canaria, the luminous blur we had seen all night came into focus, as thousands of pinpricks of light materialized on our bow.

In truth, I approached Las Palmas facing aft (east), entranced with the promise of the new day.

It took a whole hour for the sun to appear – from its first pale awakening, to a crescent of neon light that blushed the underbellies of the clouds, and painted the sea milky white. You could see the sun had already risen to the east, as the distant sky turned bluebonnet: their day had begun.

And finally, at last, a shard of light burst over the horizon, announcing our new day.

Sunrise takes so long, and yet sunset always seems so quick, so sudden.

One minute it is day, the next – night.

So it is in life.

I am still grieving the loss of my dear friend Sue, who passed away so suddenly. One moment her light still glimmered; the next – gone.

I am reminded of two things: firstly, we are spiritual beings, having a human experience. Her light still burns, but not in a concrete way. I need to keep my eyes open, to the unseen.

Secondly, a favorite essay, from Eduardo Galeano:

A man from the town of Negua, on the coast of Columbia, could climb into the sky.
On his return, he described his trip. He told how he had contemplated human life from on high. He said we are a sea of tiny flames.
“The world,” he revealed, “is a heap of people, a sea of tiny flames.”
Each person shines with his or her own light. No two flames are alike. There are big flames and little flames, flames of every color. Some people’s flames are so still they don’t even flicker in the wind, while others have wild flames that fill the air with sparks. Some foolish flames neither burn nor shed light, but others blaze with life so fiercely that you can’t look at them without blinking and if you approach, you shine in fire.”                       — from Eduardo Galeano’s “Book of Embraces”