I tried to take Federica out for a sail yesterday in a last ditch effort to get the boat out and impressing women as it is intended. No go. As the starter ground and my newly ripped shorts flapped in the ample breeze, I would not be defeated. I decided we would try to sail off the dock…..into the wind. Desperate measures only succeeded in rousing all the neighbors from their vessels to anxiously ask if “they could help” [me return to my slip like a sane person, I gathered] I was defeated.
Having Federica see my life for the last three weeks, including the delightfully exotic (hiking through tropical rainforest munching on strawberry guavas) and the painfully mundane (fretting over whether the Y will grant a FOURTH guest pass in its limited unlimited “special offer” plan, just wanting a damn shower) I have felt honored to have her see everything and apparently accept it all with a remarkable calm I couldn’t imagine mustering. How is it that some people are so collected, grasping the tiller firmly and staring down their future with a genuine smile? It may be that we’re all still just tied to the dock anyway, or that the mussels are slowly sinking us from the bottom up, but I just can’t help FRETTING all the time, whigging out over the tiniest things.
Last weekend she and I did two events about Israel and Palestine on Whidbey Island. People listened politely and asked good questions but I realized at the end of it all I feel so tired getting righteous about injustice these days. As I’ve bucked and tossed and rolled myself at the helm of some kind of vessel plodding through Israel and Palestine, I’ve burnt myself out. My starter’s gonna fail if I don’t watch it. I know very well why I don’t have the tireless energy of some or the uncanny good cheer of others. I’m just not yet running with everything full ahead yet. It’ll happen though, and man I’m hoping it’ll be impressive when it does.