“But letting go means falling.”
“No, letting go means flying!”
There are people you meet who speak little, but after a few weeks at sea, they sometimes share powerful lessons in just a few words.
To sail is to let yourself be carried by the wind and the waves, while trying to understand them, to speak their language as best you can. Everything changes, everything can change quickly. My last blog, “The plan is no plan,” was the first hint of that; and on the way back, I continue to follow this motto. Or at least, I try to, adding: let it go!
The eggs I wanted to cook end up everywhere but in the pan because of a bigger wave than the others? Let it go!
The line I carefully repaired, wrapped in leather and patiently stitched with two needles, cracks again in no time? Let it go!
Missing my loved ones so much that it takes my breath away under the stars during last night’s watch? Let it go!
The fear when the wind picks up, when I’m asked to go furl a sail high, high up the mast? Let it go!
What a school of patience, of humility, and what a beautiful school of letting go.
There I am, steering under the sun, a taste of coffee in my mouth, my salty strands of hair tangled in the wind, standing firm on a wave-swept deck and I lift off. Gently, I let myself be carried. The only thing I hold on to is my hand on the wheel.
Ride on!
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