August 13th, 2012 About half way between Bora Bora and Suwarrow is a light winded, sunny place of blue skies and clear horizons, a contemplative patch of peacefulness through which we presently slip ever so slowly and quietly. Serene, surreal, dreamy all words that come to mind and yet this is the kind of place one would expect a brilliant green flash at sunset if there ever was one on such a clear horizon yet tonight there was none. Perhaps such an event would be too disruptive for the unbroken benevolence which seems to reign here. Our blue and green and white striped asymmetric headsail aided by current pulls us gently along at the same speed as the soft pushing breeze so nothing seems to move. We travel in our own little breath of wind. The water laps gently. The main sheet creaks rhythmically sounding like the growly wheeze of Sushi the pug snoring. The boat rocks like the double hammock which we tied years ago between two old pine trees along the fence and then attached to the fence with a line so resting in the hammock on lazy summer evenings we could with very little effort pull the line to keep ourselves endlessly swaying.

The sky at night here is packed with stars which twinkle clearly in peacock colors from green to periwinkle to crimson and indigo. Overhead the Milky Way stretches massively and snuggled within but in the foreground of its dense population of stars is the readily discernible kite shape of the Southern Cross. When I finish watch in the wee hours of the morning, Orion is bright on the horizon pursuing the Pleiades across the heavens in the opposite direction from that which I grew accustomed to in the northern hemisphere. The Pleiades are also notably colored like tiny bright holiday twinkle lights on a string piled haphazardly in a little especially dark place in the sky sparkling and pulsing as though beckoning toward a doorway to some dark vacuole in space. I see a blip on the radar 7 miles off our starboard bow approaching and I set a bearing line on it so I can monitor its course. Looking out into the night I cannot yet find its lights unless looking off to the side I locate its glow with my peripheral vision and then use the binoculars for a closer look. It feels like meeting a stranger alone on a dark night. Usually we pass without conversation slightly adjusting our courses to allow room and clarify intentions and I understand well the old saying of "two ships passing in the night." Mostly they are old rusty fishing boats far from home with Asian sounding names in English beneath Asian writing. At 4 miles I can see by its light arrangement that the ship now faces the same direction as we do though its initial approach was from ahead but it fades off the bearing line to stern indicating it has slowed its speed. It must be working. Two big halogen lights glare out into the darkness. I wonder what this one is catching and how many cold big eyed fish will meet their end staring up from its nets at the same starry sky I enjoy. We hang together 4 miles apart, he working and I moved so slowly by the light air that I begin to feel as though I am stuck alone at a stop light late at night in a bad part of town for too long. Then the breeze lifts pulling us away into the night, into the aloneness again and I the happier for it.

What a privilege it is to have time-Time to think or time to not think but just be; Time to finish off some of those old conversations that lay languishing on the dusty shelf never expecting to be revisited; Time to remember even something that happened just days ago or perhaps something that happened lifetimes ago; Time to ponder. One cannot ponder on demand or on schedule. One needs rather to allow room for thoughts unbidden to rise gently into consciousness. Now often a simple sentence or question from a long ago previously thought-to- be-forgotten incident finds its way to the forefront of my thinking and I understand its true meaning. It is like a life review and I often wish I could jump up and call to explain it to the other person involved. But perhaps that is not the point. One thing I know, I have always been too busy to realize that I didn't have enough time. All is well. Pat and John and Sushi S/V The Rose