words & art by shé

bookshelf

Tag: Mexico

  • 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…

  • Olas

    “Surfer dude!” said a woman as I walked back from a session, board on head. I smiled. Mazatlán has waves. Olas, in Spanish. Which sounds like Hola. Which means hello. Hello, waves! It’s been a while. “Te quiero,” I texted recently. I love you. Radio silence ensued, yet I’m glad I sent the message. I…

  • 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…

  • 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,…

  • Friend or Food?

    The more I snorkel, the fewer fish I eat. Yes, I know, fish eat fish. But after meeting an octopus, I was distressed to see her on the menu of a local café. Such grace and beauty, fried on a plate? No way, man.  I am not a fan of ‘catch and release’ either. If…

  • Sounds

    Dolphins in my swimmin’ hole! Well, theirs, yeah? The whole ocean.  I hear them before I see them, breathing. Hoosh hoosh. Standing on a small hill overlooking the calm Sea, I turn toward the sound. Hoosh hoosh hoosh. A pod! Such joy. They swim south around the point, out of sight. Sunrise. More excellent sounds: “Alliterative tour de force.”…

  • Fishing

    “Where’s your husband?” asks a stocky, mustachioed man halting before me. He holds a long fishing rod in one hand. With a mouth full of burrito de machaca, I gesture to the butcher shop across the street. He moves on down the Loreto sidewalk, twirling his reel.  It’s hot, but I’m too hungry to find…

  • Dusk

    A faint path lopes along the top of the isthmus that separates the mooring lagoon from the sea. I didn’t notice it for a month, and trudged the rougher scree that tried to throw me off balance. Imagine my delight one evening, in the slanting rays, to find an easier way. And it was always…