Sailing through life

It’s interesting to think how one person’s hell is another’s luxury.
After reading The Life of Pi I have a new understanding of how some must view a life at sea. Granted, I am not ship wrecked, or stranded on a lifeboat with no company but a tiger. I have been sailing from before I could walk; I learnt to steer a boat before I learnt to drive a car. Some, however, have not been so fortunate. Some do not understand the ways of a boat.

They don’t know that dolphins are the socialites of the sea. That they love the sound of a ship’s motor and will swim alongside you, dancing and playing, until you cease to acknowledge them and they get bored.

They would not know that when a boat leans on its side, lying on the sea as if lying down to bed as we do, so that when you are on the inside of the boat looking out you do not see sky or land (if there happens to be any close by) but only water, as if you are swimming with the fish, that his extreme tilting of a boat is not dangerous, not something to worry about; it is natural. The boat is bending her ear to the tumultuous sea to hear it whisper and better understand its moods. A well designed boat- a graceful lady of the water- will then straighten herself with no need of help from her captain (who really serves her more than she serves him) and will carry on her buoyant dance through the sea, whom she now has a better understanding of.
No, some one who does not know boats may not appreciate that exchange.

Just as they may not know that there are fish with wings- rightfully named flying fish. This sounds like a fairy tale now but it is the truth, which only someone who sees them in action would believe. They breach the waves and spread their wings, not covered with feathers but with scales, and when they catch the wind just right, like the sail of a boat, they fly alongside a 50 ft Beneteau with ease, clearing the length of the boat and then some before closing their wings and ducking their heads and diving back into their watery home.

Likewise, one who does not appreciate these things may not realise that there is a special moment when you are lying on the bow of the boat with the wind coming at you and all around you, when the hull hits a wave in that moment where you are pointing to the skies, before the boat comes down on the other side of the wave when, just for that brief moment, you feel this is the closest you will ever come to flying; like the fish beside you and the birds above you, this is the only time you can know what it is like to have wings.

No, someone unfamiliar with sailing not privy to the ways of the water will never know these small blessings of the sea. I am fortunate and I am in awe; open water is a world in itself.

New.

There is something so fulfilling about finishing a semester at a new school, in a new place, with new people, yet feeling at home.

Something blissfully rewarding about looking back on the four months that have just flown by, leaving you dazed in the wake of the wind that hit you as the wings of time beat by you.
Something amazing about looking back on all those things that seemed so new that are now familiar. All those faces you did not know, that you now hold dear. All those once unfamiliar places that now welcome you as your home does, with open arms and a warm hug (though the winter months are cold).
Something special about remembering that first encounter with a new friend, when you were wearing nothing but a bathrobe and you were so uncomfortable but she was so friendly. Or when you watched Doctor Who with a cute boy and how that night turned into a relationship. Or the friend with the tin mug, the girl you call your “twin”, and the ‘crazy’ friend you love.

I like to think that these people, these new people know me as I am. Not as I was, and not yet as I will be. They only know of my past what I want them to know, only what I think they need to know. Not that I have to hide things, but I have grown, I know I’ve grown, and these ‘new’ people know this ‘new’ me. Funny how new things seem to come together. And now they are not new, the are friends. And we will face new 'new' things together.

Most of all, there's something so heart-warming about the happy memories you have made. Something so fortunate about the sadness you feel saying goodbye for 3 short weeks after 4 short months together.
I look back at my first semester at Northeastern with love and happiness, and I am so lucky.