In New England sailing is viewed with reverence. It is in our blood and held in an almost mystical/spiritual light.

I have a friend with a large sailboat. He talks about it and thinks about it a lot. There is a definite aura around sailing -particularly here in New England where the pilgrims landed and for hundreds of years men have been sailing out to sea in search of glory and adventure, or just whales and fish.

So when we finally connected and settled on a day I would join him for a sail I was excited. "Maybe I would get an insight into the meaning of life". After all, sailing was wrapped in a magical cloud that brought up the images of money, moby dick, the Kennedy's and Hemingway.

I packed up my digital camera and my notepad and we spent a day on the ocean.

It was a great day. We talked about Bradbury and Women and his dream of sailing across the Atlantic. But no revelation came to me. I didn't have a breakthrough on the meaning of life. Oh well, guess I should keep trying.

Later that day when I was lying on my couch enjoying the warm exhaustion that a day on the ocean brings a short story came to me. It came fully realized, is Bradbury-esque and takes place on a sailboat.

This gave me a real sense of satisfaction. Something deeper had come out of my day of sailing. It wasn't what I was looking for but it was something that was deeply important to me. I got something to write about it.

If I reflect on this it gives me a chill. I went out looking for the meaning of life and I came back with a story. There is always the possibility that I did find the meaning of my life. Am I meant to write stories? Is it as simple as that? Is this the meaning of life for me?

"What matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general, but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment." --Viktor Frankl

If you want to read the Story I will post it here