Reflections

With the cold weather keeping us indoors on the boat with no Internet to entertain us, I’ve had a lot of spare time to just think.  Sometimes, we get so caught up in the immediacy of our lives and our goals, that we lose sight of our priorities.  We forget why we work for the things we do, what’s important to us, because everyday life gets in the way and we go into autopilot mode.  We go, go, and go, working for the future, without a thought to what makes us happy in the present moment.  This is something we have all been guilty of.  We have been caught up with boat project after boat project the past couple of years, and I find that we sometimes lose sight of why we got into this in the first place; and that is to love each other and to love our lives.  Though I’ve written many-a-whiney blog post about the situation we’ve had to endure, in all honesty, I am very grateful for the experience.  Like a sailor many days at sea truly values the warmth of a dry bed, I have learned to appreciate the things I have overlooked in my life.  I really believe in the notion that we don’t truly know what we have until it’s gone.  Sounds tragic, but it’s really not, it’s simply life.  It only remains tragic if you never recognize it and take the time to be happy for the things you do have when you have them.  Without hunger, one cannot fully appreciate satiation.  Without loneliness, one does not value companionship.   Without darkness, one cannot understand the luminosity of light.   Funny how it works that way.   

I miss the people I love. Simply having someone to laugh with, to have lunch with, or seeing a familiar face would be something I’d give my first born for.  These things I never thought I would miss to the extent that I do.  To have someone care for you and your well being, and not judge you if you fall, but hold your hand and pick you up.  Thinking of this makes my heart swell with sadness and longing, but again, this is a part of life.  Believe it or not, I chose this lifestyle knowing that living on a boat would do this to me.   I knew it would open my eyes, make me not take a moment more in my life for granted.  

I remember the day that I had this epiphany, the day that cemented that living on a boat was something I wanted, something I needed to do to shape myself.  We had been out at sea for a couple days, between Bermuda and NY, only snacking on fruit, nuts, and cold cuts.  The weather was rough and I remember someone made Lentil soup.  I remember how grateful I was for the warmth of that soup, how every bite tasted better than anything I had ever consumed before, how I savored every moment of that soup-eating experience.  In those moments, it dawned on me that I wanted to forever feel that way about life, about the ones I loved, about food, about the warmth of a hug, about the smell of a flower, about all the things that I had never given a second thought to.  I realized that the vibrancy of these seemingly mundane things would be paled if I went on the way I did, living comfortably, just letting life smoothly pass by.  I knew in those moments that I needed to live and suffer so that I could enrich my life, not with all the things that I wanted for myself in the future, but with the things that I already have. 

Sunset reflected in a puddle
Photo Courtesy of Frank 

Life is but a Dream….

Many of you must be wondering what we have been up to since splashing.  Well, maybe not, but my delusional mind would like to think that there is someone out there who reads this blog aside from our immediate family….No, we did not fall off the face of the earth; No, we did not untie the dock lines and start our cruising adventure; and No, we were not abducted by aliens.  We have simply been internet-less as wifi here on the water is intermittent.  Days have been spent getting the sails back on the boat, checking the bilges, getting our storage unit sorted out, tuning the rig, checking the bilges some more, reading, doing canvas work, getting our boat registered, and lately, trying to stay warm cuddled up in bed, and watching movies from our hard drive (Thanks Matt and Jess!).  

We have gotten many emails from people wondering what our next step is, and to clarify with you out there, we are not setting sail just yet.  We are not quite ready to do that; financially, we are working on rebuilding the kitty; mentally, we are readjusting to life on the water. Everyday, I pinch myself and wonder if I'm going to wake up on the hard.  Wondering if our boat splashing was all just a dream.  When I open the hatch every morning, I half expect to see rocks 12 feet beneath me.  I can finally pee in my own toilet and our boat isn't covered in bottom paint (now just bird poop).  When the boat moves and rocks, I have to tell myself to not run around screaming maniacally that we are falling off the stands.  I still keep a mental tab when I wash dishes of how much water I've used so as to not overflow our bucket.  I still eye empty drink bottles like treasure and am reluctant to toss them lest I have to pee in the middle of the night.  Have I become some weird version of a boat-dweller that no longer knows how to adhere to social norms?  Yes, but that is irrelevant. The past year and a half has traumatized me a little.  I know the painful memories of being on the hard will slowly fade away, just like the pain of childbirth is eventually forgotten by the mother.  The mind erases these memories so that you will brave doing it over and over again.  A true testament to the resilience of the human animal, I guess. I know that this is not the end of our boat projects, I have come to terms with that, but I also know that this is the beginning of another chapter in our lives.   With 2 years of Moitessier kicking our asses and forcing us to toughen our skin, I know we are now a little (I repeat, a little) better equipped for whatever lies ahead.