words & art by shé

Tag: short personal essay

  • El Mirador

    The viewpoint. It can be different. Fact: The Bod does not like high heat and humidity. Fact: It’s been 90°F at night in the boatyard. Fact: Dry-docked Habibi retains the day’s temperature despite two fans and an air purifier. Fact: A different perspective from the industrial/red light district in which I’ve resided for eleven months…

  • Tehani

    I still remember the day I clapped eyes on Tehani. I looked up from my desk as she walked into the animation studio behind my boss. There’s my new best friend. Both wise-cracking women with terrible taste in men, we clicked immediately. She was an actor too, and had been on Magnum, P.I. We schemed…

  • Frightening & Magical

    “There’s something frightening, and magical, about being on the ocean, moving between the heavens and the earth, knowing that you can encounter anything on your journey.” —Lynne Cox, Grayson: a Memoir Anxiety attacked recently, and I finally figured out (it’s hard to think when she’s screaming) that it’s been a year since I left Topolobampo,…

  • Respect Your Self

    Years ago, Mom heard of a restaurant she wanted to try, so we took a taxi after that day’s Jazz Fest. It was hot and humid in New Orleans, and we were wearing shorts and t-shirts, like the majority of concert-goers. Disapproval radiated from the owner-chef. There was a dress code. We didn’t meet it.…

  • I’ll Be Seeing You

    “They [feelings] are chaotic, sometimes painful, sometimes contradictory, but they come from deep within us. And we must key into those feelings and begin to extrapolate from them, examine them for new ways of understanding our experiences.” –Audre Lorde Beguiled by a garbage truck, Valiente—the leader of the Little Yellow Dog Gang—hurtled into traffic after it, barking insults. “No!”…

  • Epiphany

    Tuesday night, about 8 o’clock, one of the so-called security guards knocked on Habibi’s hull. He’s a big beefy guy whom I greet as I greet everyone: friendly, but not social. I was already in bed, lights out, and did not answer. I’m in an isolated part of the boatyard and my neighbors were gone.…

  • Letting in the Wind

    “Our feelings are our most genuine paths to knowledge.” —Audre Lorde. Change can be difficult. And, possible. Emotions are clues, perseverance necessary. Like so many, I struggle with inherited behaviors. In the middle of the night, after hours of hot air currents gusting through the cabin, I closed the hatches. The sound of whistling wind…

  • Lagniappe

    The storm blew me past the busy port of Guaymas, where I’d intended to anchor and check out boatyards, and then San Carlos, several miles north. Next thing I knew I was passing an island in the dark, in high chop and higher winds—30 knots with stronger gusts. The navigational system shows tankers in the…

  • Make a Splash

    Last Sunday, 500 people swam from the mainland, past Habibi, to Deer Island. The annual migration began early, with a rhythmical splash on the portside. Ever vigilant to different noises, I saw a man freestyling by wearing goggles and towing a small bright orange inflatable. “A swimmer!” I thought. “Neato.” Then a panga motored by…

  • On the Move

    Sometimes you want to do something that scares the feces right out of you. All the meditation in the world cannot help Anxiety, who has taken up residence on your left shoulder and is screaming in your ear. You can barely remember what Calm felt like, and yet you really want to do this thing…