The Winds of Fate
One ship drives east, and another drives west
With the self-same winds that blow;
’Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
That tells them the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the winds of fate,
As we voyage along through life;
’Tis the set of the soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I crewed (and sometimes captained) racing sailboats in my younger years. When we signed on to a race, none of us knew what the conditions would be like: we just knew that we wanted to test ourselves, to see how well we could choose a tack and trim our sails, under whatever conditions race day gave us. Some races were terrifyingly windy, others soul-crushingly becalmed. We were usually on an older, heavier boat, which meant that we were at a significant disadvantage even before the race began. There was no handicapping, but that didn’t stop us from signing up.
Riding out this pandemic has been like sailing in a race with many different legs, perhaps like the Whitbread Round The World. Conditions were not predicted; your boat is what it is; the crew are who they are. Today, for this leg, what tack will you choose? And with what sensitivity and skill will you set your soul to it?
--The Rev. Barbara Talcott
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