Love Trumps Fear - February 11, 2014

Rowing in dense fog and some wind this morning, I was once again reminded that the old me who is afraid of water is completely free and loving in the scull on the water. I initially thought of this a metaphorical but now see that it is as real and palpable as it could possibly be. There is no fear out there, only love in the Turneresque light of sun trying to blaze through fog, with murky grey suffusing the rest, my rowing buddy visible and ghostly in the distance and no other landmarks, only silence, love, and dancing mist. What could be safer?