It’s a good life in the harbour: Polishing the brass; sleeping to the hauntingly sweet creaking of the docks and the deck; lolling about in gentle waves; lounging in the sun; drink in hand; bantering with neighbouring captains about storms approaching or the new ship in port. The phrase “This is the life” is oft heard.
Then there’s the days when you sail out into the bay: Managing the sails in gentle breezes; puttering about on calm water; aimlessly wandering near home… but, damn, you have to take her in, you have places to be, responsibilities to keep, things that need doing.
Sometimes you just don’t take her out. You know that the yearning to go further.. to explore, to discover.. becomes so strong that you feel disappointed and sad that you are not sailing into the wild blue yonder. And who wants to feel disappointed and sad if they don’t have to? So you just hang out in the harbour to avoid that feeling.
There’s nothing wrong with the harbour.. it’s a pretty good life. It’s a great place to imagine the adventures, the sailing into the unknown, and the exotic destinations. The possibilities are endless. You know your ship is capable, you’re pretty sure you are…. “Hey! Stop that kind of thinking!” your logical mind interrupts, “it’s not realistic.”
One day, though, the imagined becomes possible….. (ya, you probably got a life coach) and it is not long before you set sail on the great adventure of your dreams. The ship is stocked, the teak oiled, navigation skills are tuned up. Although you feel a bit nervous, and have even hesitated a couple of times, you leave the harbour… with nods of approval, smiles of respect, and perhaps some “you’re crazy’s “of those back in the harbour. (Maybe you are crazy! But doesn’t it feel amazing!)
Wind billowing in your strong sails, you sail out of the bay, into
the open waters, an exotic island perhaps your destination.
You spot a storm on the horizon, and smile craftily. Your ship is in it’s glory. You’re prepared. In fact you are excited.. because, honestly, you have always wanted to play in a storm.
by Janet L. Whitehead © 2009