The Shell
It’s a cold and rainy October Saturday morning. I will spend most of this day on the banks of the Schuylkill River at the Navy Day Regatta, trying to catch a glimpse of my son as he rows for the Unionville High School crew team. This is his first year of rowing, so the “regatta-experience” is new for all of us. Toward marking this occasion, I’ve decided to post Mark Van Doren’s brief but vivid poem “The Shell” (for those that don’t know, the boat the crew team rows is called a shell). The “all one” van Doren talks about is a fairly mystical experience, as I can attest from my time on the water in a shell during college where I learned that to pull in perfect sync with the other seven rowers grants a rare sense of perfection in an imperfect world where time all but stands ceases to exist for those few moments.
The Shell
This shell,
Weightless in water, swift as the wind,
Subtle of purpose – a feather blown –
I go with my oarsmen where they will,
My beautiful body and theirs all one.
Mark Van Doren
Post image: Pierre Auguste Renior, “Lunch At The Restaurant Fournaise (The Rower’s Lunch)”, 1875.
I love this so much.
I think I’ve been chasing that my whole life. I didn’t realize how to express that until I watched Pacific Rim (I know, I know) and saw the two pilots that brain-melded to maneuver the giant machine. Maybe this is why I dance and maybe I should join a crew.