Now it's so blue
The still sea is darker than before."--Brian Eno
Today the last vestiges of my sore throat from last week dissolved away, leaving me with the mild euphoria which ensues when nothing is physically wrong. The workday flowed, as if mimicking the time my wife and I rented a canoe on a creek near Whistler, and paddled quietly on calm waters through narrow water lanes amid tall weeds. The temperature climbed above sixty degrees today, so that when I left my office, I could see a warm shimmering sunset off in the distance. I remember days when the water is so calm that above the water is a mirror, and below it's a windowglass. I've ridden the glass bottom boat near Catalina, where the tall forests of kelp send their branches far up through the surface, and through the glass, one can see the unalloyed gold of garibaldi fish and the shimmering silversided reflection of jacksmelt. I don't trust this euphoria, which comes on me like so much adrenaline calm, but it's not important that I trust it. It's important that I flow with it, and let it soak through me, and use it for all the good I can do. I've floated aimlessly through the high waters of this winter, and I'm ready to make for some useful shore, gliding over this calm, lovely water.