Contentment.
Euphoria.
Peace.
Where riding a broomstick was the ultimate in control, riding the waves was pure unadulterated submission.
I am not a boastful man. A side affect of having no one to boast to during those formative years I guess.
But one thing I am proud of is my reputation on a broom.
It is one thing the world discovered about me that I have accomplished completely in my own right.
In some ways, it is the only recognition I really deserve.
On a broom there is nothing I can't do... The air itself can war against me and more often then not I still will win.
The open water however is untameable.
I could try all day and not move an inch closer toward my destination... or my goals...
But that is OK.
The first thing to learn is that the water reigns supreme.
After that, after you truly learn to accept it, just like the air you start to hear the water.
In those bairly audible words, so unlike the Airs suggestions, are the Waters ultimatums.
You will move the sail this way, or I will take you under.
You will turn in this direction, or you will not move at all.
And everyone once in a while, you may get a reasonably choice.
Go left or forward, but not backwards.
Go fast or slow, I do not care which.
But above mindlessly following the seas calls and being content to drift across hundreds of miles on an enchanted muggle invention, the freedom of letting go.
The sun, the sunset, the moon, the air, the birds, the discovery of an island off in the distance, the fish, the whales, and yes even the sharks and the storms.
You never know what you will encounter, what parts of life will touch you so intimately, searing its existence into your soul.
To witness life on the open ocean, is it witness the greatest love story of all time.
The love between the tempest temptress, and Poseidon himself.
The beach, where they first meet as newborns as undertow pulls the ocean back, and depart as an elderly couple with the next wave.
The hurricanes and typhoons where their lover spats become known to all.
And the peaceful drifting, a lovers embrace. Where they are content, and happy.
And like me after these long years, at peace.
My hand rubs my wife bulging belly as I whisper into her ear,
"You know Ginny, This time I am sure it is going to be a girl."
"Why do you say that Harry?"
"The moon is smiling down on us. The way it is reflecting on the waves, it gives me hope, just like well... If it is a girl, how about... Lily Luna?"
Ginny leaned back into her husbands arms. While still rare for him to speak like this it had become more common in recent years. It was so hard to tell him no when he got like this,
"Sure Harry."
Euphoria.
Peace.
Where riding a broomstick was the ultimate in control, riding the waves was pure unadulterated submission.
I am not a boastful man. A side affect of having no one to boast to during those formative years I guess.
But one thing I am proud of is my reputation on a broom.
It is one thing the world discovered about me that I have accomplished completely in my own right.
In some ways, it is the only recognition I really deserve.
On a broom there is nothing I can't do... The air itself can war against me and more often then not I still will win.
The open water however is untameable.
I could try all day and not move an inch closer toward my destination... or my goals...
But that is OK.
The first thing to learn is that the water reigns supreme.
After that, after you truly learn to accept it, just like the air you start to hear the water.
In those bairly audible words, so unlike the Airs suggestions, are the Waters ultimatums.
You will move the sail this way, or I will take you under.
You will turn in this direction, or you will not move at all.
And everyone once in a while, you may get a reasonably choice.
Go left or forward, but not backwards.
Go fast or slow, I do not care which.
But above mindlessly following the seas calls and being content to drift across hundreds of miles on an enchanted muggle invention, the freedom of letting go.
The sun, the sunset, the moon, the air, the birds, the discovery of an island off in the distance, the fish, the whales, and yes even the sharks and the storms.
You never know what you will encounter, what parts of life will touch you so intimately, searing its existence into your soul.
To witness life on the open ocean, is it witness the greatest love story of all time.
The love between the tempest temptress, and Poseidon himself.
The beach, where they first meet as newborns as undertow pulls the ocean back, and depart as an elderly couple with the next wave.
The hurricanes and typhoons where their lover spats become known to all.
And the peaceful drifting, a lovers embrace. Where they are content, and happy.
And like me after these long years, at peace.
My hand rubs my wife bulging belly as I whisper into her ear,
"You know Ginny, This time I am sure it is going to be a girl."
"Why do you say that Harry?"
"The moon is smiling down on us. The way it is reflecting on the waves, it gives me hope, just like well... If it is a girl, how about... Lily Luna?"
Ginny leaned back into her husbands arms. While still rare for him to speak like this it had become more common in recent years. It was so hard to tell him no when he got like this,
"Sure Harry."