Sailing me and sailing bellies

moi

This snap shot was taken on our last evening in Teneriffa.  Due to technical and applicable reasons, I was not capable to post as I had first desired whilst sailing on the go.  Now viewing my own smile on this last evening, the trip did do me and the crew well.

4 from 8 people on board got seasick within the first hour; one of which being a doctor, another the co-skipper and yet another being a paramedic who even fell unconscious for a short while. It may be hard to believe that we were all smiles at the end of our adventurous sailing week.  As I did keep a real paper journal in my cabin, the following excerpt is what may be of interest:

6 August

Today we boarded the ship and were given our first safety instructions.  Although this occurred almost at the end of the day, as the cleaning and reparations took longer than expected.  This was one of the first lessons to be learned, patience and loss of time.  Safety first.

Earlier in the day a group of four was assigned to do the shopping for the next 7 days.  Water, beer, wine, vodka and a few other essentials were stocked below.  When the group returned I was responsible for the filling inside the boat’s cabins.  After not such a long while of bending low to grab the items one by one out of the bags and placing them one by one inside the best possible locations I could spot; I did feel my body making certain adjustment arrangements to cope best with finding some fixed points to focus on, which were just not so fixed at all.  The points of focus were in constant and irregular motion.  So after another not such a long while, I remembered what Andreas the skipper had recommended.  Get on deck and find a fixed point off the boat, if nothing can be found, then at least the horizon.  It worked.

The name of our boat was Guanajo and with the app, find ship one could have followed us along our little tour, in and out of harbors :-)!

7 August

We set off and were confronted within the first hour of swapping bellies.  The sea is sea sided and nothing is settled, least our bodies in full sway left to right and up and down.  Even the doctor and one experienced sailor  had to lean the rail.  It hit half of the crew and we had to search the nearest harbor or return to where we had just started a few hours ago.  The few moments sitting nearest to the sea at the bow with my feet dangling over the edge and keeping my eyed fixed on the horizon helped my belly keep pace.

This morning we left from Las Galletas.  The island of lava residue, with white-capped waves steadily being tamed through the great stones covering the ocean floor.  Only when the tide had pulled out on the beach of Las Galletas, did I see why only a few and daring surfers, make use of this sparkling beach.  For swimmers it is a constant threat on naked and unprotected skin and bones.

The nearest harbor to Las Galletas is Marina San Miguel.  We made it and our bellies settled down.

8 August

No one got sick today.  All were better prepared with medication and a very calm course was chosen.

9 August

The amount of man-made plastics we spot approximately equals the few fish left for us to fish in the sea.  While cleaning some utensils on board, I also had my share of responsibility, besides taking care of the crew bookkeeping.  The question entered my mind, was man really made to cross the sea or land.  Yes, I pose these questions: what if man had remained within his boundaries and learned to live one with nature?  Or is man made to cross all boundaries and with this ever-extending experience we gather to bring us, after the sun-rays may diminish, to another planet free of charge.   The sailors look at night up towards the endless universe and brightest stars.  How easy we forget, the most precious and most beautiful planet this universe possibly has, is the one their ship is sailing on.  The depth of beauty lies within ourselves and in my opinion, nowhere else.  All we see that is so lovely and pretty are projections arising out of each one of us.

Punta Montana Roja – a very tiny picturesque inlay along a well carved cliff of lava residue.  The skipper gave us women the advice this morning to use the coffee grounds from breakfast as a kind of natural man-made peeling.  We were all smeared  in with coffee grounds and plenty of smiling faces.  The skipper remarked, how easy it actually can be to please women and perhaps something which will also be happily accepted by the fish below.

The skipper Andreas is a special and most sensitive man.  He is astute, well-informed and in-tune to those on board.  Uprising conflicts are openly discussed and cleared away, before the anger binds like clay.  With my own inner conflict pending low, the plastic bags, the cans and loads of garbage rising daily on our deck; I search for better ideas to travel on sea like true fish may find its joy to share.  Perhaps to store barrels of beer and wine instead of hundreds of cans within our shelves.  The beer and wine disinfect naturally and leave no harm with spills.  So where to store the bigger re-usable barrels and set-up the infrastructure at each port to re-load?  Could this be a new market for one of the big brewers?

10 August

Masca – an adorable black bay.  Black and finest sand, plenty.  With what ease I was able to swim to shore and gently place my feet into this soft sand.  All other beaches so far, were covered with rocks and lava stone.  But on this tiny hidden beach it was the cleanest lava sand I had ever seen.  I completely covered myself with it, actually rubbing it on everywhere.  Of course I had to allow a bit of my one-tracked mind to create a manly power tower with this fine sturdy sand.  Joachim was delighted and had to take some pictures.  He said if a man would have built this in the sand, everyone would call him a pervert; not so I guess with a woman doing the same.

The atmosphere within the small vessel had calmed down and with the acknowledgement of our different characters and personalities it made more sense to cope.  Mo could not be without food and drink for more than 30 min. anywhere.  So on this little strip of beach he managed to buy some beer and bananas, as they didn’t sell any ice-cream.  Jo and I offered to take the garbage back to the place of purchase.  We were not wearing the soft-shelled water shoes Mo had used while walking over the hot rocks, so the walk was a cute challenge.  We walked barefooted over the edged and hot lava stones, there where it wasn’t hot and edged it was wet and slippery.  The best way of crossing was to find a steady rhythm and not to stay too long on any one stone, not matter how smooth it may have looked from above.  We managed well and then decided to take the water way back to the boat.  This route I certainly favored.  It was at first a little tackle between some tourists waiting for their boat ride back to the next harbor, but once I plunged in bottoms first, it was a sizzling relief.  I haven’t seen clear blue waters like this for a very long time.  Plus, no plastics or human feces swimming along with me.   How happy the fish must be at places like this, free of man’s global signature and in harmony with the greatest gift on earth – clean water.

The ship it sails whilst wind is blown.  The ship it steers whilst steam is made.  The skipper smiles at the sight of white-capped wakes so near aside.  But hail, but hell the crew is gone.. astray!  The storm we passed was quickly solved, not so the tempest on our deck.  The nerves, the nerves so dearly felt, make cry and scream the strongest man.

So salty now our skin within, from the beauty bath we took before the voyage spin.  But tears they came and smear out salt so smooth in the marina greeting cove.

My little poetry intermission at least got the girls giggling again.  To laugh at all we’ve had to cope, is heaven for the souls.  The whale who breathes his tail towards us just shortly passed before the dive.

13 August

I am on my way back to Zurich, but I do wish to recall the memory from the passage away from Masca.  As the island rises high above the sea and on some ends so very high, that the wind can be stilled from one minute or one meter to the next; without any change or course.  The skipper allowed me to steer the rudder while we were still going along with the motor on.  The waters were very calm and their was absolutely no wind.  But, well ahead I could spot some white caps and it was the course which I was to hold, straight ahead.  Once our vessel reached this spot of heavier winds, it was obvious that we had to return to the calmer zone to set-up our sails and make proper preparations.  So I steered the boat around and went back to where no wind could be found and just circled until the crew got the sails rigged.  Straight ahead no backing now, the cowards left behind.  The waves tossed and turned the tiny boat as we were just a tinker toy wobbling in  a stream.  Jo took the rudder, but did allow me to join in at times with his skilled guidance (we had two simultaneous rudders on both sides).  So at these moments where I had complete control of the ship, I could really feel the ups and downs with and without pressure of its rudder in the rough sea.  Patience again is the key, just waiting steadily to reach the bottom and then check the course, is it okay or do I need to make a shift to one or the other side and then this movement must come fairly quickly; before the next wave takes us up again and the rudder looses grip.  The assurance that the next chance for a grasping rudder will come, is all it needs.  Feeling within the motion of the water and finding some rhythm where there may be none, was my greatest experience of this voyage.  Yes, nature is in charge, no matter how big man may think he is.

With all that I saw, which was so little in perspective seen beyond the shields of wind.  Our greatest respect holds the water we will never challenge and the ground so forgotten to appreciate that our nurture sustains the grace of a very special human race.

Thank you.

peace of land and the patience to see

the first hour on board

Agnes

Andreas

Juliana

jo and ma

skipper and Agnes

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Sailing minds

Tango is my passion and brings my faults to ever new dimensions.  Many momemts ago I had created within one of my shamanen sessions an interactive Tango dance theater.  Fairly quickly we created the concept out of the motivation I had observed in the tango scene over the last 10 years.  So few attractive and psychologically healthy tangueros to be seen.  Perhaps lack of need, as attractive men can get mostly any woman they wish, without the skills of dance. Perhaps shame, insecurity, laziness or any other means of denial for a hidden pleasure.  And a pleasure it truelly can be.  It may take many years of practice, but every effort is worth its bliss. The dance is comparitabe to the mastership of the sword or archery, where the beauty of the technique is achieved through complete selflessness, it is danced through the dancer making the dancers one with the dance.  An archer or swordsmen becomes the master of his skill through awareness beyond himself, as if an outer element drives his core and the only focus may be on his inner calmness.

The choreography grew out of the concept and the first three acts were written, sketches included.  I confinced my tango teacher to take part and got the rest of my dance community excited and involved.  We practiced and rehearsed and took different detours into account with choosing the essential dance actors. My mistakes became more and more obvious.  The first was to mix the roles. The tango teacher being my dance partner in the main role. Then next to introduce one of my private affairs into another main role.  The jealousy and anger of simple misunderstandings became predominant and at last the whole project came to a full stall-out stop.  Feelings on all sides were hurt and I was left alone with my brilliantly stupid idea.  

The rebound came through my woman tango teacher in Berlin, who re-activated my motivation and will to tango this interactive theater into life. No more mixing of roles and work with professionals on all delicate modes of interpretation, like the choreography and theater director.  The King, the thief and the beauty know their roles as they are playing their given selves through complete selflessness in focus of the moment. 

Yet, my dream is unlived like the greatest lull in the wind. 

Jo, my tango Partner from Berlin, offered to take me along on a sailing trip around Teneriffa. The sail beginns on Saturday morning. I will fly into Teneriffa on Friday and meet the rest of the crew in the evening.  Those who wish can follow me on a daily basis from there on.  Besides a few sunshine sailboat trips as a child and a motorboat license for the inner lakes here in Switzerland, I have no greater sailing past-experience. There are three experienced sailers on board, one skipper and one co-skipper (Jo); 4 men and 4 women, including one married couple. 

Bon voyage until we hit the sea…

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Is my good life pure justice?

At the last of the moment I decided to cancel my no-refund flight to the US to visit a friend and use the rest of the time for getting professional expertise on the interactive Tango project I’ve been working on for a while.  My friend Sam didn’t have the time to receive me as planned and my sister will have the house full at the beginning of my visit; so I would have had to stay a few days somewhere else, perhaps in NY.  Or, I change my plans and spend the whole time in NY and really get deep into Tango mode at every hour possible.

My thoughts where getting busier than my intuition could follow its inputs.  Then, I stopped at a jerk; what the fuck am I doing!  And yes, the plane will fly anyway and the friend or family member may visit me instead.  Great ideas.

It has been more than a year since I last posted on my blog and yes, a hell of a lot has been going on in my life.  From environmental MAS studies in Basel to Shamanismus in Gaehwil to work for a controlling office of labor worker’s pay to Tango Passion in Zurich and plenty of “no-go” affairs after the termination of a long-term relationship.  But I am still kicking my way through life and making plenty of new friends an foes as I stomp along with my barefooted shoes.

The skills of justifying my behavior, as I’ve learned, is quite touchy indeed.  In justification lies the foundation for my own personal justice on what I find as morally correct.  So with each new justification, I web my own limitations of what I can or cannot do.  Because I haven’t travelled in 10 years such a distance per flight; because my Tango project will get new non-dancing people into this fabulous motion of dance; because a new relationship may become my new destiny; it is okay to be doing this and flying the great distance once again in my life before I may embellish the hidden world with my very own precious beauty.  And, I was right in the middle of my own bull-shit justification!  Grow-up I exclaimed.  Because I can justify my behavior, doesn’t make what I am doing ANY BETTER AT ALL.  I am just as much to blame as all the rest.

Elisabeth Kolbert Elizabeth Kolbert – The sixth extinction may have it all right; but, she flies to her interviews and has produced three children to this already way overcrowded people planet.  Managers making the new Tesla automobiles may be producing the most efficient cars on earth; but, they fly to most meetings and use up raw material and tons of grey energy.  Everywhere I look, I can spot justification of human behavior.

It was pretty funny when I told my friends and family, that I will not be flying; because I just cannot compromise this with my newly made environmental knowledge and actually knowledge which hasn’t been kept secret for the public over several decades now.  The level of CO2 is critical.  And yes, it has been at higher levels before, some 50 millions years ago perhaps.  Just with this tiny difference that it took a few thousand years to get there and gave its flora and fauna enough time for necessary changes.  We have gotten to this level of CO2 404 parts per million in the atmosphere at “just-in-time” speed of modern time industrialisation.  Well hell, the industry may have shifted as the width of our ties; but the flora and fauna is not used to this speed of human volacity.  No time to be changing their delicate skins or internal organs; plus, if there had been time for this, there is no migration space left for them to migrate to on a natural basis of environmental climate change.  Perhaps a good spot would have been somewhere more up north, but there now is a city or a mall or a parking lot or an cleaner-production industry park.  So this speed of change and the space for change are the human-factor of species killing.  No justification.

The response from my friend Sam, encouraged me to create this new piece of thought on this platform.  I leave his words untouched:

“as humans- esp. Americans- live a life of consumerism.  Hardly respect the delicate and fragile environment. People travel to New York for shopping!  Or drive to nearby grocery with a 4×4 to get milk , Fly to California to attend a football game!  Or go on a weekend to Las Vegas to gamble and come back !  Globally they talk about global warming but also they talk about global dimming due to smog.  After 9/11 all flights were grounded -no plane to fly for several days- so a surprise discovery had been that the weather was all of a sudden bright and sunny for that weekend !  The study shows with satellite images a huge atmospheric difference before and after the event observing much less clouds/smog that was produced by thousands of daily jet planes produces !  It is man-made, self-inflicted phenomenon.”

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MY KITCHEN WINDOW

my kitchen window

I see it now, all its branches full of snow

the leaves not gone, just waiting low

behind the scene I make believe

the kids are not at school

some grander tasks take hand the child

to build a house a mother may adore

and father smiles

to see his pride

of cells presumed his own..

 

freshly pressed in SBB and fairly late to work🙂

my kitchen window

my kitchen window

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bubbles of the heart

I wake up in the middle of the night as my body’s taken space,

to toss me up and toss me down and bring me out to write,

it never ends the love of hearts to loose and lose your place.

The plight of life is all you need to dare to be alive,

whatever comes whatever ends your truest blooming form,

make sure to give it all and look for darkness or the unknown choice waiting just for me.

As I am the light myself, the love it shows as candles through the night…it may blow out or quickly fail, but rest assure it comes again; all I need is trust.

The church bell rings, the blackness thrives, my blood is flowing fast and far to dance and sing and risk my skin and never ask what for this mill.

The one I search the one I love is here inside my house, the doors are open wide no room for simple pride – no masks, no heals, just flesh and juice to mingle up with yours.

 

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Sunday Morning outing

Sounds fill my heart on an early morning walk through the swamp.  Buzziness and pleasure combines the mind.  Man is part of this world and our marks on nature keep pace with the birds and fishery.  Have I changed so much, or is it the world-changing. Are my ailments universal or is it just a personal state of being.  The wounds and healings arrive simultaneously and it is my choosing of which to adhere to first – or none, leave it and observe the slowness in me.

Pure nature, no alterations made..

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How to get five fingers on filthy feet

1. class feet

1. class feet

walking the wet wild woods

walking the wet wild woods

purest and all-ground dirt

purest and all-ground dirt

without my feet, i’d be a worm; without my head, i’d be none here..

without my shoes i’ve learned to walk the long and silky undergrid; some slush and gush and awfully squirming sliver bugs..

without my woods, i am the lady with some lovely finger wear..

mmmmmh

mmmmmh

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crossing a deadly path

It took me some time to see the direction of his steadfast aim;

barely moving barely breathing barely touching our concrete shame of lane,

the slimy twist of skin slithers up his boneless spin of all too many rings..

i knelt down low and poked up slow his body to my soul.

At once he twirled and gave my eyes the quilt of half his size;

a place i found not far but wise,

to dig below the wilting leaves and all so tender pedosphere..

His ground his ground he’s found alas to make some peace with hominine..

The worm

(in response from Sam..)

He thought that was a close call:

I barely escaped our mutual path…

it could have been fatal,

but I was lucky to have a good soul passing my way,

seeing me more than a parasite and less than a danger to her life…

atop bringing my mention to her human world and closest friends.

I must be bigger than I think…

I must be more significant than I was made to think…

I’ll write about her…

that beautiful lady that left me to my self

and picked me with more than just her eyes

and carried me in her hand to a trusted piece of land

and made me a sizable thing worthy of a letter and some words.

Dear worm friends:

Today it took a moment to see this giant creature that crossed my path,

for such a mighty size it is like a strain to turn my neck-less head

and see who is looming above me…

She bent closer and I rolled over and our eyes met…

I felt a jolt of fear and joy…

it was even touchy when she poke me with her limb…

I never thought such a close encounter could take a place.

In my space.

Somehow I was in peace and fearless…

I had good vibes about her…

She traced my move into the leaves curiously,

then after I hid in safety and gratefully,

I watched that soft skinned fully developed,

pretty looking warm bodied tower smiling in a gesture of joy,

the swiftly motion of her body in one united harmonized piece gracefully

and lightly in ease walking away,

leaving me in a swamp of thoughts and ideas…

Could this crossed path be a destiny?

And to whom?

Me or her?

Could ever a worm like me have feelings to a creature her level?

And if so…

how can I tell her what is in my humble heart?

And simple mind?

Can we be equal in love?

In souls?

If we did not match in any category,

at least we match in the fact that she

and I are ‘souls’ after all before we were made of bodies.

I left the spot and that giant is on my mind.

The human

(in response from Ellen..)

Yes, these thoughts came to me,

long after i’d gone along..

the last i saw of him,

his stretched out skin and worming mill;

so thrilled to be a part again,

to chew up dirt and drop-off chunks…

to nourish man and all his chums…

I’d been there and here before and still..

the worm is me.


							
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Gaia a being like myself?

Who has read “the revenge of gaia” from James Lovelock?  For years he was criticized and his hypothesis not taken for real, but never disproven in terms of scientific release.  Generations later he comes out with the latest book and still the earth is alone in its plea.  Wars, terrorist attacks, economic beliefs hit the news and make the media soar.  My environmental studies are just beginning, but time is running out and my consciousness is busy with obvious tasks not so easily taken in a daily routine.  I sold my car yesterday and even at this simple deed I did not complete it the way I had wished.  As my Peugeot may be old, but still in good shape I was not able to recycle or make it unfit for anyone else.  At the dealer there were just tons of the same, standing around taking up space and covering the soil.  It is easy to walk or ride public transportation in Switzerland, so this is a blessing for the start. It is just a start and time is running fast.  Have we passed the point of no return, is the question most delicate asked of environmental scientists all over this world.  It takes years if not centuries for the stratosphere to recover its balance for living beings below.  It is so easily concluded, not to worry the earth will survive with or without us humans (as some swift bankers conclude and keep in business as usual).  But, we are as gaia and gaia is as we are.  If something is doing her harm, she will shake and rattle and finds means of recover, this system has worked for billions of years.  She is getting older and fragile and is being challenged with unjust dismantling of substances all over this place.  My energy comes from within and I know how to shift my weight and catch the flow.  My body has aged and my spirit is strong, the similarities are there and it need be shown.  It is our intake of food, fuel and fun which is crippling us so.  Our technology is wiser and can deliver what we need without touching the earth  for years if you understand and can accept the truth for a long while.

It is just the beginning of a great change, but listen first to your body and take science, real science (for now not close to mass-media claims of relevance) seriously.  Is it just another tribal fight fought for our own existence, or the existence of a greater whole?

Each one is in charge and we are all very very dependant on each others skills.

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Polyamore a fad a habit a way of life or just an excuse?

Being single again after a long-term relationship has brought me into the scope of hunting one’s prey with some bait on the line.  It is especially interesting the belief of who is the predator.  Going straight on in an unchallenged fashion making the kill at first sight, or observing the spectacle and faking the scene to throw-out the leash by chance at a better display.  The discourse is unique as it is a one chance for most, so give all you can and make it complete.  How truthful do you need to be or how dishonest can you get?  Later explanation may settle some steam and burst other dreams, but who is truly behind all those lines and pixels and misty perfumes?  It is a new outlook on life, as I feel more aware and in tune to the elements of having been born many a moments ago!

But, what is this thing so much talked and gossiped about – polyamore?  Shared love, shared sex, shared men, shared women, shared intimacy, shared life?  When and where if at all does jealousy or trust or committment take place, as the many a books having grained thoroughly these subjects attained importance all after the fact.  Is it different for a man than it seems for me?  I can share a life or share a love or share my friends, do I wish to share my venus or share a struddle?  It certainly gets touchy, perhaps for some very obvious reasons and then I can still choose the monastery close by.  Our non-human animal friends make relations and keep their sparing partners mostly until death do them part.  We human animals find it most challenging with even a manuscript of verification to our highest courts, to make this a true statement of honour the least.  So where lies the puzzle to put me in place?  I can walk and I can ride, but never can I hide myself too long and evade that which is made to come to be or yet another bend.

the train, the stream, the ducks and me

the train, the stream, the ducks and me

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