essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: GulfofCalifornia

  • Women

    Happy International Women’s Day! Yesterday after a swim near La Playa Las Brujas (Witches Beach), I ambled around an older part of Mazatlán. Women sold me eggs and pomegranates, cut a length of yolk yellow fabric, and served me tacos carne asada. Women directed me to the ocean, a bakery, and bed sheets. I chatted…

  • BeLoved

    Quizá puedo ir a conocer Habibi cuando obscurezca, wrote a friend. Maybe I can get to know the Beloved when it’s dark. At first I didn’t understand. And then I realized that he really is an angel, telling me the truth of life, whether he knows it or not.  I came to know the Beloved when my life was…

  • Night Sailing

    I did not know I would love sailing at night. No fear, just endless sea and stars. The sound of Habibi’s hull parting the ocean into bioluminescent waves. Wind filling the sails. Learning the navigation system. Keeping watch. Singing. Resting in the cockpit, swaddled in blankets, supremely content. I have always loved the peace and…

  • Capitana

    “¿Capitana?” asks Guillermina, the manager of Marina Mazatlán. Are you the Captain? “Sí,” I reply, yes, and she smiles widely. A man comes in the office while I am signing the docking contract. “She is the Captain,” she brags, and he gives me a thumbs-up. Role model! Because I am doing what I am supposed…

  • Playlist

    I’d been hearing the opening riff to “Hello I Love You” in my head for days, so I finally latched onto a friend’s Starlink and YouTubed it. Followed by “Sledgehammer,” of course, and “Come Out and Play.” Danced my ass off in the cockpit. To top it off, I played “Ya Habibi” and floated around…

  • Surfing Concrete

    I did not know that bringing the RipStik on board Habibi would make me so happy. Like the wetsuit, it’s a reminder of surfing, of fun. You can’t carry groceries on a waveboard. Its only purpose is happiness, flow.  A small skateboard with only two oscillating wheels, riding it replicates surfing. The same muscles engage,…

  • Perfectly Imperfect

    “I am not perfect,” wrote a friend of mine, and I responded immediately with, “You are perfect. Perfectly imperfect, just like me.” By which I mean, to hell with perfectionism. It gets in the way of Happiness, every single time. I know, because I’ve been in the grip of it for decades. Last Sunday I decided to hoist the…

  • Untied

    Sometimes after swimming in the ocean a surge of emotion rises up: sorrow, anger, joy. Sometimes a mélange. I’ve learned to ride it like a swell, and listen to what it has to say. Gratitude emerged last Sunday: to my mother for taking me to the sea; to my father for teaching me how to…

  • Tea with the Bottom Cleaners

    Initially I hired folks to clean Habibi’s hull so I could learn how to do it. Then, the next month, I wanted to learn how to replace the sacrificial zinc (the anode becomes corroded instead of the propeller shaft). Then I was injured and wanted to keep Lefty Foot clean and dry.  They are friendly,…

  • A Home for the Holidays

    For years I looked for land near the sea, finding nothing from coast to coast to coast. Living on an island wasn’t enough. Little did I know that a sailboat was patiently waiting. She is the second home I’ve bought myself, the first being the cheerful yellow and silver Tiny House on Wheels. But I…