peregrinaweeklybullets
Elana C
HIT BY A CATAMARAN!!
HIT BY A CATAMARAN!!
logs from the sea
Elana C
Tasman Crossing: Our Last Full Night at Sea?
logs from the sea
Elana C
Tasman Crossing: How to Make Potato Salad at Sea
logs from the sea
Elana C
Tasman Crossing: Decisions, Decisions
logs from the sea
Elana C
Tasman Crossing: Decent wind and looking ...

quotes

Nature, Love, and Safety

When I was a child, I had the fortune to go to sleep-away girl scout camp on a scholarship, and that’s where I felt love and safety for the first time in my little life. It was in the middle of a coastal forest on the West Coast, and we slept in tents or open-structured buildings with all of Mother Earth’s creatures for company. There were always trees around us, holding us in their calming presence. So many strong, loving women, taught us to sing together in one voice. The song I remember best is always in my head when I walk in the forest, and I heard it there today:

“Green trees around us,
blue skies, above.
Friends all around us,
in a world filled with love.”

Mr. Rogers said — and I believe — that love is a verb, an active word, like struggle. I see much struggle, but also much love, in our world right now, and I am glad for it. I would rather have and build that kind of love.

I found a safe, quiet, peaceful place to nurture my soul today. I hope you found space for that, too. xx

p.s. The mountain had a message at the top for us! Scroll to the last photo, and take heart.

Lighting a Lamp For Child Welfare Reform

“‘Let me light my lamp,’ says the star, ‘And never debate if it will help to remove the darkness.’” - Rabindranath Tagore

I have spent months reviving my lamp. The flame had grown weak, and the brass, tarnished. I polished it for many weeks, discarding blackened rags one after the other. I washed the clouded glass with my tears until it was as clear as mid-ocean waters. I refilled the empty well. It was an abyss; I had burned down all the oil. Now, the flame is bright and strong enough to shine through even the darkest of these unexpected winter nights in New Zealand.

This past week, I’ve been listening to what is happening in the US. I’ve sought out new voices to help me understand our history of institutionalized racism & oppression. Kelsang Gyatso said, “Listening is a lamp that dispels the darkness of ignorance.”

I’m ready to speak here again, but at this moment, more than any sailing story, this is the one that must be told first. . .

For every black adult victim of systemic racism in the US, there are many more black children harmed every day, because inequities in every society start with our young.

I’ve been learning & grappling with a truth I’ve known for years. The privilege granted me by the color of my skin led to a far different foster care experience than that of black children, who:

  • are 2x more likely to enter the foster care system than white children

  • primarily enter care for neglect (due to poverty), not abuse

  • have the highest prevalence of having parental rights terminated

  • are less likely to be adopted than white children

  • have the highest rate of moving from child protection to juvenile detention

If we want to dismantle racism in America, we must start here. Black Children Matter, so I support not only criminal justice reform, but also child welfare system reform.

How you can learn/support this:

Let us light our lamps and, together, remove the darkness.

-

Further reading/selected sources:

Cast Off the Docklines and Believe

After so many weeks staying put in one place and working hard, it feels so good and so right that Windfola is moving again. Tomorrow we are planning a big shakedown sail, and if all goes smoothly, we’ll depart the next day to cruise down the east coast of the North Island of New Zealand.

Sitting here by the light of Windfola’s oil lamp, rocking gently on our mooring, I’ve been remembering the beauty of long days at sea with incredible sunsets like this one. It was memories like this, coupled with a poem by Pat Schneider, that kept me going through the last few weeks of labor. To those of you who, like me, are working with a focused discipline... don’t forget the equal importance of just casting off the docklines and believing.


YOUR BOAT, YOUR WORDS

Your boat, they will tell you,
cannot leave the harbor
without discipline.

But they will neglect to mention
that discipline has a vanishing point,
an invisible horizon where belief takes over.

They will not whisper to you the secret
that they themselves have not fully understood: that
belief is the only wind with breath enough
to take you past the deadly calms, the stopped motion
toward that place you have imagined,
the existence of which you cannot prove
except by going there.

- Pat Schneider

Day 6 of 25, singlehanding from CA to The Marquesas, French Polynesia

to the sea again

Sea people are special. We have a shared understanding, without words, of hearing the siren’s call of the ocean, and the longing it roots in one’s heart. Nothing will ease it but going.

A friend shared this with me yesterday. It’s as though this guy a hundred years ago was writing the words my heart has been speaking.

Sea Fever, by John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; 

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

thank you, Donald 🙏💕