A friend was telling me about the rule her grandfather had when they visited him at the lake. 

"You have to learn to sail before I will let you drive the motorboat."

That was all it took to have attentive students, ready to master the center board, rudder, and boom. My friend took me out, her doing all the work, while my job consisted of being heavy. Ballast, she called it. Her eyes were on the waves as her hand held the ropes. I was unclear what she was looking for, exactly, but it had to do with the wave tips. Abruptly, she announced that the wind had shifted and we needed to tack. This entailed me switching sides, and ducking. The boom swiveled over us, and the sail danced with the invisible wind. I think it is like when tango partners suddenly change direction, though there was no long-stemmed rose. 

"People think that the wind is pushing us. But actually it pulls the boat. It is like the way an airplane stays aloft. The lower pressure creates motion."

I nodded, though my comprehension was shallow. The funny thing is, neither the gales nor the hull were offended by my ignorance. I enjoyed the mist, and the thrill of the ride. 

She explained that sailboats don't go from point a to b. There are zigs and zags, negotiating with the capricious air. 

All the grandchildren were granted the helm of the motorboat as promised. As an adult she prefers to sail. 

I thought about the lures God offers, as an inducement to spiritual growth. 

"If you want an exciting relationship with someone one day, I want you to learn how to get along with your family, or coworkers. Pay close heed to the signs of how they are feeling. Understand how to work with changing moods."

It seems that loving relationships rely more on pulling, than pushing. When you love someone you want to follow them. Plus we all try to avoid high pressure systems.