I was never a yachtsman. Nevertheless, I remember a time, many years ago, when I found myself at the helm of a yacht in the Solent, off the south coast of England. It was a fine day with a light wind, perfect conditions to allow a novice like me to steer the craft. The squall hit without warning. Suddenly the wind was howling, waves were being thrown over the deck and the yacht was leaning over at an alarming angle, the mast was closer to horizontal than vertical. The skipper was on deck in a flash, shouting orders, trying to get some of the crew tied onto things and then seeing about taking in a reef (making the sail smaller). The whole episode lasted but a few minutes. The squall passed as suddenly as it had come and life returned to gentle tranquility.
Something like this squall happens to me from time to time, perhaps once every two or three months: A squall passes through my inner being, lasting a few days. My inner calm and joy is disturbed by a moody squall deep within, for no apparent reason.
I know now that nothing needs to be done about such a squall. I withdraw a little from social interaction, I take in a reef in my activities. And I sit. After three or four days I wake up and the squall has passed, life has returned once more to gentle tranquility.
