Seagulls laugh and screech, and fish and fly. The waves are regular; the wind has dropped. And Misery talks out loud for Joy’s benefit.
“We’re not going anywhere. The wind has died.”
“Yes. There’s not much to do.”
“This is annoying. It all started so well. I was looking forward to it. And now look at us.”
“The sky is blue all the way to the horizon. What a sight!”
“And that makes you happy? You’re not going to call for rescue?”
“No.”
“It does not make you happy?”
“I’d be happy with any weather.”
“O … kay. Whatever. How about the rescue?”
“What for?”
“I don’t know, you know, so we’re not bored for hours on end.”
“You’ve never just done something to enjoy the process?”
“Well I do enjoy the process if I know I am getting to my goal.”
“What is your goal?”
“The thrill of speed … full wind in our sails.”
“Ha!”
“What do you mean ‘Ha!’?”
“Just acknowledging.”
“Well aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“I am.”
“You’re not doing anything.”
“I am letting you vent.”
“I am just fine! What are you going to do about being stranded on this infinite ocean?”
“Nothing!”
“Why not? Didn’t you invite me on your boat? Aren’t you the master sailor?”
“Yes.”
“So …”
‘There’s a master above me.”
“And who’s that.”
“Nature.”
“Well, I’m never doing this again!”
“I guess not.”
Silence.
Deeper silence.
Silence filled with tension.
Sigh.
At this range from the shore they would normally still see seagulls, but they have left.
“I should have known I couldn’t trust you to do what’s right.”
Joy doesn’t take the bait.
“I should have known you’d let me down.”
Silence.
Irritated sigh.
“You know what’s keeping the wind from blowing?”
“What?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Sure.”
Sneer.
“If you change your attitude, the wind might just take off.”
“Yeah, right. Like I have that much power.”
“Just saying. If you don’t try, you’ll never know. You claim to be scientific and pragmatic, and you think your common sense is reality without testing it for yourself. That’s an oxymoron. Being scientific means being open to possibilities, and if you haven’t proved something wrong, you cannot claim it is wrong.”
“You are asking me to believe I have supernatural powers.”
“No.”
“What then?”
“I am asking you to get your attitude checked and experience your natural power.”
“Controlling the weather. You call that natural?”
“I am going to paraphrase something I heard before, because it applies to you. You have such beautiful talents. It’s too bad people will never get to experience them because you hide them under your stubbornness, your impatience, your arrogance and your acting like a victim. To top it off, you are miserable and you try to bully me into being as miserable as you are. You can’t win anymore. You cannot corrupt me into your ways.”
“You know what you are?”
“It doesn’t much matter at this point … look at your creation. The sky has filled with dark clouds. We’re up for a storm, a big one. You are going to get the thrill of your life.”
“I resent that! I did NOT create that.”
“We live in a metaphorical world. What’s outside is a reflection of what’s inside. I did not say you control the weather. You are the weather.”
“So it could be you who created the storm just to nag me.”
“The world is a metaphor for you if it affects you, if you think it is outside of you.”
“Well it is outside of me! You make no sense and I am just as pissed off as when we started.”
“Your anger started long time ago, when you started getting angry at God.”
“Angry at God?”
“Are you enjoying life?”
“I don’t believe in God.”
“Do you say that in anger?”
“Ouch!”
A large wave hits the bow from starboard. The rain hits the sails heavily and the wind changes direction on a whim. The sailboat goes through abrupt tack shifts and almost capsizes.
“GOD, CAN YOU CALM THIS DOWN, PLEASE!” screams Misery.
“It’s your inner attitude that needs calming … Why do you make everything about God? Didn’t you say you didn’t believe in God?”
“Isn’t he supposed to take care of me?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this? You call this taking care of me?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“You say ‘him.’ God is love. Would you say ‘him’ when taking about Love?”
“Whatever. How’s God taking care of me right now?”
“From this experience you can become aware of your own nature. That’s how we grow. As sailors learn to master the wind, we are here to learn to master energy. That’s what it means to be the captain of your ship.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me that earlier in my life?”
“We are all learning this one person at a time. There’s no one to blame for our slow learning.”
A large wave engulfs the boat. Misery changes into a trembling child.
“Hey! There!” says Joy.
“Is this the end of the world?”
“No. It’s just a storm.”
“You’re not scared?”
“No.”
“I am.”
“Do you want to say something to the storm?”
“Is it safe?”
“Let the storm go through you.”
“That simple?”
“That simple. Oh! Enjoy it too!”
The child stands at the bow, holding on to the line of the jib. He breathes while the waves act like a balking horse make him bounce in every direction. The child holds on.
The weather clears. The seagulls are back. Some sing joyfully with high pitched short melodies. Others emit guttural noises.
Misery takes over where the child was.
“That’s your idea of a day out?”
“You’re back.”
“You need a lesson in manners.”
“How so?”
“What you’re teaching that child … to draw power from the storm … What’s gotten into you? What kind of parenting is that?”
“What would you have done?”
“He was scared, for thrill’s sake! You should have heard him out. Instead you tell him stuff about enjoying the storm. So shallow. Screaming with the storm is more useful. Yelling your struggle out.”
“What do you think the seagulls are saying?”
“Are you listening to me?”
“I heard you all right.”
“What do you have to say for your defense?”
“You and I have different ways. I notice joy wherever it may be and I expand on it as best I can. You notice struggle wherever it may be and you expand on it as best you can.”
“Darn right!”
“What do you think the seagulls are saying?”
“Stop with your seagulls. What about me? I’m lonely here. I need comfort for my pain.”
“I know, but you’re not accepting it.”
“I am wasting my time with you.”
The child reappears as Misery vanishes.
“What do you think the seagulls are saying?”
“Oh! Can’t you tell?”
“Yes. I just wondered what you heard.”
“Well that one is talking about the nice tasting fish it got over there and that one wants company to fly out that way, and … What?”
“Very cool! Very cool! Wave them good bye for now. We’re going home!”
“Where’s home?”
“Home is where your heart is taking you.” Seagulls seem to escort them to the shore. “I love how you listen to the seagulls.”
“I loved that storm.”