January 2, 2010
Fix, Pray, Sail
The getting ready and the goodbyes were almost the easy parts. Getting ready took focus and dogged determination, but then it was done. And the goodbyes, because we’ve done it before, we know those are temporary.
No, the hard part is the sinking in: The slow realization that we’ve arrived in our life, that this isn’t a one or two year voyage with a predictable conclusion, but a capricious journey that could take us anywhere. I’ve been slow to get to the acceptance part. The trip down the coast pretty much sucked, in many respects. We set off with that smug feeling of knowing exactly what we were getting into and were proved wrong.
It’s hard to be terrified.
It’s hard to have stuff break and wonder if we did something wrong or simply had bad luck.
It’s hard to wonder if we made a huge mistake giving up our home.
It’s hard to hear Maia say she’s lonely.
It’s hard to know there really is no easy way to turn back.
But then there are always those next moments. The quiet contemplative ones that make up everyone’s cruising fantasy--watching the moonrise over a calm anchorage, exploring the beach, sailing in perfect conditions and spending time with good friends, old or new, in beautiful places.
Sarah has been sailing with us twice. When she arrived in Newport Beach before Christmas we had spent almost three weeks just hanging out fixing stuff--happy to stay put. But then the three of us were tentatively ready to go sailing again and she was there to help us along.
We’re not religious but, as I’ve mentioned before, when it comes to setting out on a big ocean in a small boat I’ll take all the help I can get. So Sarah, who’s recently back from Israel, brought help. With a small prayer, she affixed a Mezuzah to the door (we figured it would be okay to put it on the inside seems how the outside would be kind of exposed.) Then for good measure she brought a Hamsa, which is supposed ward off the evil eye and bring us good luck, as well as a very special t-shirt for Maia.