The Lurching Chariot

                                                 The Lurching Chariot

I boarded a small vessel, one of the better built ships of our time.  Bravely, I shipped out to sea.

I knew the water was going to be rough--but as I could see sunshine all around me, I took my chances the sky would hold its turquoise sheen.

The water was rougher than ever I could have imagined, but there was no turning back--the power of the ocean owned my ship and me.  

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I left the port as the sun was peeping over the horizon.  A golden hand of rays streaked across the bowl of blue.  There was a strong wind--stronger than necessary--lapping at the sails and ropes.  With barely any warning, the wind exploded and became frantic.  As I was tending to my direction--and a dozen things over my head--the sky changed color.  It turned to a deep gloom of gray that seemed to groan at me.

I thought to myself, "Oh, girl...this is gonna be a good one."  I was glad to be forced into immediate action--to work quickly with the sails, for if I had been still, I would have become sick with the reality that death was staring me down.

The waves came out of nowhere.  Huge, menacing volumes of water that did not just swell--they loomed--roaring in daunting heights far over my head and vessel, blocking all life. 

There was no sky, only water, and it was violent.  The storm raged until there was no memory of light, or calm, or warmth.  All I became familiar with was cold, hard--rains of ruthless rains and torrential, strangling fingers--rivers of water plunging to the earth from the sky.

I knew any moment I would capsize.  How could I not?

And then I did.

As me and my vessel were sinking fast, a bizarre, inexplicable thing happened.  One of the menacing waves viciously threw my boat into the air, and put it back on its path.  Instantly--I am still blown away by my acute focus--I snagged a dangling rope in my palms, and held on tight.  With much strength, I climbed aboard.

I was trying to stay alive, and yet I really had no reason why.  The storm was everywhere.  There was no blessed sign that it would lift.  For days, weeks, and months I endured this raging atmosphere--the fortress that would not let me cross the sea. 

And then the months blew violently into years, and still the storm raged.  I had many, many close calls of capsizes--therefore, once I realized my abilities to control my boat were futile, I went below deck and hid my eyes and body from the onslaught.

The best way to numb the insanity and make the lurching waves feel less hurling, was inebriated and drunk.

For decades, I hid below deck, drinking, stuffing, filling, bloating--anything I could do to numb the fear of such a merciless storm, and the pain that the thrashing of the waves gave me.

Then one day, I decided this crazy storm is playing with me.  It has the power to destroy me--it could have killed me a thousand times by now, and yet, still I live. 

That's when it hit me!  Get back on deck and look this monster in the eyes!  Face the onslaught with laughter.  Take a hold of any solid piece of the rig, hold tightly to that which is bolted, and ride this nightmare.

So I have been back on deck, out in the raw elements for a few years now, no longer spending time hiding under a wall of fillers and bloaters--my consumption has become an exercise in surfing that which batters. 

I am beaten, there is no doubt; and when I finally reach the shore, I will look like one who has seen a lot, and survived Hell.

But I am not down.  I'm not even weak.  Upon the shore I will find my home, and heal.

Now that my vessel is near the shoreline where my home is waiting, I am, at last, able to say--it's a miracle I am alive.

The Lurching Chariot is the new name I will give my ship, once we are docked safely.

For though the storm still rages, there are signs in the water that land is coming.

Peace always, 

Sun