I have, at great price purchased the finest boat. Its hull of warm wood, polished to a gleaming, natural brass. Its sails, white and tall, ready for the merest breeze. And I've studied the ways of sailing: the laws of the water, the ways of the wind, the vagaries of weather, the names of the moon. Long and hard I've worked -- and read, and practiced, and labored, and purchased, at great price -- until at last, my boat is launched on the great, wide sea... Where suddenly I learn: My skills will not move me! My boat has no power! Wind is everything. But alas, I cannot control it, or understand it, or cause it come. I cannot bottle it for later, or coax it stay; I cannot even calm it if it blow too strong. I can only wait, and be ready and hope to make progress... Bewildered and exhilirated, I am the mystic sailor. If ever I reach my destination, it was me, but not me, who got us there.