For all the times that she has done it, you'd think that I would have a photograph of my dog wriggling in the desert sand, belly-side-up, and acting happy to the point of silliness. It always pleases the human spectators.
Her behavior reminds me of how I feel from time to time when reading Patrick O'Brian's "Master and Commander." Ships-of-war, when not fighting their own kind, were virtually pirates with a license: they would attack rich merchant ships, and hopefully get them to surrender before doing too much damage to all those valuable goodies. Then they would bring her in to port to be sold off, with the "pirates" getting a bonus proportional to the wealth of the captured ship.
The ships practiced deception on each other until the last moment. Typically they flew false flags; or posed as merchant ships by handling their sails in a lubberly (un-navy-like) manner; or kept uniforms off the deck; or sailed in a way that made the enemy think that they were partially damaged. There were only two exceptions: they never used deception for sending out false distress signals, and they'd always run up their true colors just before beginning the attack.
Or a routine sentence such as, "The Boadicea gave a gentle heave against the sea and the water began to whisper along her side."
As the last example, let's look at a whole paragraph:
Her behavior reminds me of how I feel from time to time when reading Patrick O'Brian's "Master and Commander." Ships-of-war, when not fighting their own kind, were virtually pirates with a license: they would attack rich merchant ships, and hopefully get them to surrender before doing too much damage to all those valuable goodies. Then they would bring her in to port to be sold off, with the "pirates" getting a bonus proportional to the wealth of the captured ship.
A cyclist experiences the same thing when he espies another cyclist up ahead who looks vulnerable. Of course, sometimes, the cyclist is on the receiving end of that kind of treatment. What a chase it can become, regardless of which side you are on! It is fascinating to see the neon-green-yellow cycling jackets behind you, in your mirror; an unidentifiable sail on the horizon. As they move forward, to 'take you a prize', they transmogrify into identifiable people. You can read their aggressive body language, most of all the snapping heels. They seem like sharks or piranhas, about to snap you up.
The ships practiced deception on each other until the last moment. Typically they flew false flags; or posed as merchant ships by handling their sails in a lubberly (un-navy-like) manner; or kept uniforms off the deck; or sailed in a way that made the enemy think that they were partially damaged. There were only two exceptions: they never used deception for sending out false distress signals, and they'd always run up their true colors just before beginning the attack.
Yesterday I got playful on the bicycle ride by riding with a gang of pirates who were "reeling in" a lone rider, a "breakaway" in bicycle-speak. I was feeling frisky, so I went forward to the loner, just to see the group attacking from the rear. I gave some thought to forming an alliance with the loner, to hold off the capture for another mile or two. Oh, what a naughty game; what an arrogant scoundrel I was being!Sometimes simple sentences in "Master and Commander" put me into the wriggling-dog-on-her-back mode. It can be a phrase as common and frequent as, "...beating up into the freshening breeze." How that reminds me of turning directions on a cool morning in the Yuma lettuce fields!
Or a routine sentence such as, "The Boadicea gave a gentle heave against the sea and the water began to whisper along her side."
As the last example, let's look at a whole paragraph:
"As she rose the full force of the wind laid her over, and the studdingsail-boom strained forward, bending far out of the true. All the masts and yards showed this curving strain: they all groaned and spoke; but none like the twisting studdingsail-booms.The 'breaking point', indeed. That's familiar-waters to a road cyclist.
For a glass and more the watch on deck had been waiting for the order to lay aloft and reduce sail... yet still the order did not come. [Captain Aubrey] wanted every last mile out of this splendid day's run; and in any case the frigate's tearing pace, the shrill song of her rigging, her noble running lift and plunge filled him with delight, a vivid ecstasy that he imagined to be private but that shone upon his face, although his behaviour was composed, reserved and indeed somewhat severe -- his orders cracked out sharp and quick as he sailed her hard, completely identified with the ship. He was on the quarterdeck, yet at the same time he was in the straining studdingsail-boom, gauging the breaking point exactly."
Comments
The last quote reminds me of riding a horse. You get all the pieces and parts in the right places but the horse is a 1 ton animal with a mind of his own and to ride successfully (and not kill yourself) you must learn to respect his will but convince him that you are worth obeying. It is a type of partnership, like the captain who knows his ship, knows the ways of the ocean, and rides them to maximize distance. It is indeed a thrill to work into the cooperation with one's horse and when you feel he is fully with you, to let him engage with his full strength and power. Truly a parallel. Exhilarating indeed.
The first part, reference to changing out flags, piracy, etc. reminds me of the figure found in all mythologies called the trickster or shape shifter. It's wired into human nature though we don't like to admit it. Salesmen, politicians, young folk courting each other, etc. It just arises sometimes spontaneously and one can barely even be aware sometimes. Of course, it can be cultivated quite knowingly with a devious intention as well.
Shape shifter. I like that phrase.
"Everything that kills me makes me feel alive" (Is this not the breaking point?)
You can google the lyrics and see them perform on youtube, if you like.