She is laying in bed.

Outside, a train leaves the station across the street, as a cyclist scurries home in a designated bike lane.

This time of the day is for silent reflection. She quietly rests. In her restful mind, she finds some thoughts.

Despite the early hour, it is still warm in her corner of Europe.

Her quiet, restful thoughts rise and evaporate with the summer heat.

They are carried up, straight up, over the Alps and across the French Riviera. They cross, briefly, the Mediterranean, the Spanish Sierras and the Mediterranean once more; North Atlantic now, settling off the shores of Morocco.

There her thoughts float, gradually gathering moisture from the atmosphere around them. Becoming saturated. Then condensing above the warm doldrums beyond the African coast.

And by the time those thoughts reach him, they are full blown storms.

They have picked up speed and passionate fury, rushing across the equator, flirting with the South Americas.

They have organized themselves, without an effort but with plenty of grace.

Her simple thought reaches him as a cyclone of storm activity.

For he is trying to fall asleep on a hot, damp boat in the Caribbean, and there is torrential downpour all around him. Lightning flashes and thunder crashes. The wind screams through his rigging.

On his side of the ocean, it is hurricane season.

000
ABNT20 KNHC 202331
TWOAT
TROPICAL WEATHER OUTLOOK
NWS TPC/NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER MIAMI FL
800 PM EDT TUE JUL 20 2010

FOR THE NORTH ATLANTIC...CARIBBEAN SEA AND THE GULF OF MEXICO...

A VIGOROUS TROPICAL WAVE...LOCATED NEAR THE EASTERN DOMINICAN
REPUBLIC...IS PRODUCING A LARGE AREA OF SHOWERS AND THUNDERSTORMS
EXTENDING FROM THE NORTHERN LEEWARD ISLANDS WESTWARD TO HISPANIOLA.
SURFACE OBSERVATIONS INDICATE THAT A CLOSED CIRCULATION HAS NOT YET
FORMED.  HOWEVER...ENVIRONMENTAL CONDITIONS ARE EXPECTED TO BE
FAVORABLE FOR TROPICAL CYCLONE FORMATION AS THE SYSTEM MOVES
WEST-NORTHWESTWARD AT ABOUT 10 MPH DURING THE NEXT DAY OR SO.
THERE IS A HIGH CHANCE... 60 PERCENT...OF THIS SYSTEM BECOMING A
TROPICAL DEPRESSION OR A TROPICAL STORM DURING THE NEXT 48 HOURS.
REGARDLESS OF DEVELOPMENT...LOCALLY HEAVY RAINFALL AND GUSTY WINDS
WILL LIKELY AFFECT THE VIRGIN ISLANDS...PUERTO RICO...THE DOMINICAN
REPUBLIC... HAITI...EASTERN CUBA...THE TURKS AND CAICOS ISLANDS...
AND THE BAHAMAS DURING THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS.  THE HEAVY RAINS
COULD CAUSE LIFE-THREATENING FLASH FLOODS AND MUD SLIDES IN
MOUNTAINOUS AREAS.

ELSEWHERE...TROPICAL CYCLONE FORMATION IS NOT EXPECTED DURING THE
NEXT 48 HOURS.

bells won't stop ringing in my ears

short man from chase burns on Vimeo.

"One can rest above or below the wave, and even completely within it and tour the world with it ten times, doing nothing but watch the clouds and the sun and the moon and the stars above the clouds, with the wave and in the wave doing nothing but watch and feel. But one could also take a moonbeam at the instant it ricochets into the sea and lands and return aboard to see the sea, just watching and thinking with her, breathing again the odour of land and the things of the sky. All of this is easy, just watching the sea, choosing the wave well, just the right size, and take the time to see the sea."

Bernard Moitessier, La longue route

Love Transatlantic

By now, perhaps you are somewhere off the coast of Greenland? Iceland?
Thousands of miles above the North Atlantic?

Never, ever, forget the significance of that ocean. It was on its
glaciated Nova Scotian shoreline that we first met. As you so
eloquently recalled in our first fateful letter exchange, I had spent
a morning in its waters the day I laid eyes on you.

The ocean brought me to you. It has also brought me away from you.

Today, the ocean has me isolated on the eastern limits of the
Caribbean archipelago. Tomorrow, the ocean will have us separated by
thousands of miles of wind, waves, storms and currents.

It is only fitting however. The ocean is in many ways like love. Man
has yet to conquer the sea, and man has yet to conquer love. But man
has managed to embrace the sea, to sail on it, to chase dreams on it.

Our love is the ocean. It is this ocean of love that I embrace. And on
its waves I will sail. Chasing my dreams of you.

Soon enough darling, I will sail to you. I have my sight set on that
horizon. And as long as there is water in the sea, I will continue
loving you.

I am dedicating my life to the sea, to love, to you.

Oceans between,

Respective beds beneath,

Twisted pasts behind,

Grand futures before,

Lofty dreams above,

The world around,

All of these things,

in directions relative to us.

this one's going out to all those star crossed lovers seperated by oceans...

Elle est bonne, la mer, toi aussi.

He couldn't understand very much français, but he understood beauty, and he understood the sea. Anything that could not be understood in these terms did not seem worth explaining.

But she was as beautiful as the ocean, and that, he could understand.

He remembered the old Tahitian sailor whom he had met, and the prophetic words he spoke:

"No man can rule her. La mer, the sea, cannot be steered the way you or I would steer our vessels."

And the young man was beginning to understand the same about the beautiful girl.

Just as they danced, with great intensity and gusto, for it was their favorite thing to do, orbiting one another like the earth, sun and moon, he knew he had lost control.

He held her in his arms until a set wave came through, crashing right on top of them both. In fleeting glimpses, he could see her tumbling away with the currents.

But fighting was useless. Momentum was the key. He understood the need to go with the flow. Ignore the burning chest, he told himself, soon you will surface again. Those moments spent hurtling underwater only make the next breaths sweeter.

Though nothing was worse than this, he thought. She had the power to drown him. Yet, drowning would be a relief. At least it would end the way it started; in a maelstrom of passionate fury. Drowning would save him.

And so, his most dreaded dream came true. The ocean went flat.

Days passed, turning to weeks. Weeks, in turn, became months. And still he remained.

Adrift.

keep your eyes on the prize