I do love the beach, but I must say that wading in salt water has lost some of its magic for me. My sister Monique probably shares the same opinion; not once did she get her hair wet in Boracay. But while she may not have planned to take a dip, she did suggest that we go parasailing with my youngest nephew, Gabby.
At close to 2K, gliding through the air wearing a parachute while being towed by a motor boat may be a steep price to pay for 15 minutes of wind through your hair. Ah, but for those in our forties as my sister and I are, all thrills are justifiably cheap. Besides, when else would we muster the courage to try them again?
And so we took flight. Released like a kite to the sky, I noticed instantly how the sounds of the world receded to a silence that was broken only by our collective gasps, and how the stillness allowed us to better absorb the overwhelming view. From our vantage point, one could survey most everything and analyze how each pinpoint of the grand picture related to the next. Admittedly, looking directly below us was unpleasant, almost nauseating. But gazing into the far distance toward the island and noting how one could be part of the world yet remain separate, was for me a powerful moment.
The ancient symbol for Aquarius provides a clue as to why the sign refers to air and not to water--it is of Ouranos, the sky god who controlled the air, winds, and rain-bearing clouds, pouring urns of water from the heavens toward the earth below. The image represents one who views things from afar and takes charge from a distance. As such, Aquarians are seen to be detached and cool, remote and forever the aloof icon. They are said to talk their way through their feelings rather than bearing their full emotional weight.
I guess I will be the first to agree that there is some truth to how astrology describes me. But while I do not see myself converting into a disciple of Linda Goodman, at least I know I would rather develop wings than fins.