About Me

My photo
Sacramento, California, United States
so salty pieces of coral from surfing Hawaii in the 60's and 70's getting reef pounded living in my body fall through my skin from time to time!

sailing to Oahu

Jimi Hendrix was playing on Oahu. I had never sailed. Surfed Mexico, California, Hawaii! Aw, how hard could it be to sail 90-110 miles from Kauai to Oahu? Piece of cake, right? Remember it was the 60's! This is so bad. We thought we were looking at Kaiena Point,Ohau, knowing we weren't going to make the concert! But at least we were in site of Oahu-wrong! Coy, who had never sailed before, me,who had never sailed before, jeff and Abbott etc. We were looking at the sleeping giant on Kauai! We had done three-sixty's in the night! We sailed on the only tri-marran I've ever sailed on ( except later ) in my life, missed the concert! It was at the Waikiki Shell Ampitheater ( Moon eclipsed . We finally made Nawilwili Harbor! The Skipper tried to give us his boat saying, " It's trying to kill me"! We watched him go stark raving mad not even realising that had we got caught in the channel current we were on our way to Japan! Remember it was the 60's and we were going to see Hendrix. I left out some of the good stuff but I will make up for it later!

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The Calm by John Donne ( 1512-1631)

Our storm is past. and that storms tyrannus rage.

A stupid calm, but nothing it, doth 'suage.

The fable is inverted, and far more

A block afflicts, now, than a stork before.

Storms chafe, and soon wear out themselves, or us;

In calms, Heaven laughs to see us languish thus.

As steady'as I can wish that my thoughts were,

Smooth as thy mistress' glass, or what shines there,

The sea is now; and, as the isles which we

Seek, when we can move, our ships rooted be.

As water did in storms, now pitch runs out;

As lead, when a fir'd church becomes one spout.

And all our beauty, and our trim, decays,

Like courts removing, or like ended plays.

The fighting-place now seamen's rags supply;

And all the tackling is a frippery.

No use of lanthorns; and in one place lay

Feathers and dust, to-day and yesterday.

Earth's hollownesses, which the world's lungs are,

Have no more wind than the upper vault of air.

We can nor lost friends nor sought foes recover,

But meteor-like, save that we move not, hover.

Only the calenture together draws

Dear friends, which meet dead in great fishes' jaws;

And on the hatches, as on altars, lies

Each one, his own priest, and own sacrifice.

Who live, that miracle do multiply,

Where walkers in hot ovens do not die.

If in despite of these we swim, that hath

No more refreshing than our brimstone bath;

But from the sea into the ship we turn,

Like parboil'd wretches, on the coals to burn.

Like Bajazet encag'd, the shepherds' scoff,

Or like slack-sinew'd Samson, his hair off,

Languish our ships. Now as a myriad

Of ants durst th' emperor's lov'd snake invade,

The crawling gallies, sea-gaols, finny chips,

Might brave our pinnaces, now bed-rid ships.

Whether a rotten state, and hope of gain,

Or to disuse me from the queasy pain

Of being belov'd and loving, or the thirst

Of honour, or fair death, out-push'd me first,

I lose my end; for here, as well as I,

A desperate may live, and a coward die.

Stag, dog, and all which from or towards flies,

 paid with life or prey, or doing dies.

Fate grudges us all, and doth subtly lay

A scourge, 'gainst which we all forget to pray.

He that at sea prays for more wind, as well

Under the poles may beg cold, heat in hell.

What are we then? How little more, alas,

 man now, than before he was? He was

Nothing; for us, we are for nothing fit;

Chance, or ourselves, still disproportion it.

We have no power, no will, no sense; I lie,

should not then thus feel this misery.

No comments:

Blog Archive