Tag: short personal essay
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Native
“You’re not native,” states the woman ahead of me in the long slow grocery line. She’d asked me where I was from, and, as usual, I said, “I live here.” We’re on Kaua’i, so she probably means Native Hawaiian. I nod my fair head yes, I am native, and she stares at my blue eyes.…
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Meditations
“What the fuck are you doing in Mexico?” scathed a thought during meditation. A beat… two… then, “I AM HEALING,” roared my inner Capitana, much to my surprise and delight. Usually I am cowed by these raging judgments and scornful doubts, and tuck my head in like a turtle resisting attack. But not this time. I…
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Reflection
“Don’t want no short dick man.” The singer is adamant, and I am shocked by the explicit English words emanating from the Mazatlán bus speakers. Loudly. Repetitively. Blatantly stating what she does not want. I am sitting next to another sailing woman, part of a group on our way to a store with maritime supplies…
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Hauling Out
I’ve been over the edge for a while, and wondering why. Did the math and realized that I left Kaua’i 15 months ago. Seems to be my limit, as I wrote a book about an earlier excursion, also 15 months. Crashed in Florida in 2018. Now I’ve crashed in Mazatlán. Too much time doing hard…
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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…
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Mine
Paid the seller, paid the broker, not paying to fix the hull blisters at this expensive marina because the surveyor says it can wait until next year’s haul-out. Habibi is mine, all mine. No one can evict me. No one can raise the rent. I can paint her inside and out — any color! —…
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Habibi
Beginning at the Berkeley marina, I drive south for days, seeking out sailboats and surfing when I can: Santa Cruz, Morro Bay, Santa Barbara, Oxnard, Long Beach, Newport, Dana Point, Oceanside, San Diego. Cross the border into México and check out San Felipe, Bahía Tortugas, Santa Rosalia. Spend an afternoon and night at Playa El…
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Grace
There are moments of grace and beauty. Blowing bubbles with Antonella was one of them. Let me set the scene: a church group sings nearby of peace and love and liberty; the sun is setting big and orange and low; for the first time in México, the tiny house is unhitched and plugged in; and…
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Stung
Knee deep in the La Jolla Pacific, I feel a gentle slice on top of the second toe on my left foot. So gentle in fact that I’m surprised to see blood. Hunh. Wading out to get a better look, a half inch cut bleeds copiously. Foot above heart to slow the flow, I rest…
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Turning Toward
Turning toward love is harder than it sounds.
