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Sailing for my life
Apr. 20th, 2004 09:23 pmWhen I was very small, my brother Mike built himself a sailboat to use at our cottage on Lake Erie. One day he took me along the shore and we got caught in a thunderstorm. I was about four years old. We had other relatives with us. We had to beach the boat, flip the hull in the shelter of the wooded bluff and crawl underneath until the rain and lightning passed. I was thrilled.
A later storm seriously damaged the boat where it was beached high above the normal waterline. Mike was heartbroken but never repaired it.
I was 16 when my eldest brother Bob bought a Laser for the family's new cottage on Lake Fletcher. In that boat, my cousin taught me how to sail.
Speed has never appealed to me much. I have mixed feelings about snowmobiles, motorcycles and downhill skiing. But in a sailboat, cutting like a whisper across the waves, I am Ged guiding Lookfar across the high seas. I love the feel of sun on my brow, air rushing past and water spraying over the bow. To read the play of breeze on the water and match my strength against the sail's tug on the mainsheet, to wrestle the wind with my arm, makes me feel one with the air. I am a spirit of the atmosphere. I am a gull.
Me with the Laser in about 1987, age 23. What a blondie I was in my 20s! At right is John Duncan, my roommate from 1986 to 1988. Last time I spoke with him about 10 years ago he was on furlough from missionary work in Djibouti. Photo by my mom, Donna Waffle, I think.
Sailing on Lake Fletcher is not for the faint of heart. Fresh breezes arise on most fine summer afternoons. Gusts churn amongst the surrounding hills and funnel through narrow channels. They come unexpectedly out of nowhere. As a novice I expected to get overturned at least once a day. Once I learned to handle the boat, dunking was no longer an end in itself, and yet it was always an exciting possibility. It was exhilarating to right the overturned craft and get control of the sail again. It was sometimes exhausting, but with the security of a peaceful dock not far away, I was confident to ride the wind all afternoon.
Lately I feel I have been sailing, but in another element. Whenever one undertakes a serious meditative practice, one must be prepared for challenges. My meditations are mostly an exercise in relaxation and finding a calm space within myself. Difficult emotions rarely arise, but arise they must. One cannot ignore or bypass pain on the path to balance and serenity. Meditation reveals inner conflicts and requires us to face them.
Today was one of those days. This morning some unexpected gusts hit. Grief over past experiences, frustration over time wasted and opportunities lost. I felt the keen edge of knowing what I want but have not achieved, mostly for lack of willpower. I believe anything is possible, however life offers no guarantees, and I see a few cards stacked against me. Optimist though I am, I can't follow my dreams without acknowledging the fear that the effort will come to nought. It is fear that has held me back, and fear I must learn to smile in the face before it fulfils itself.
I'm caught on the lake of life trying to teach myself how to sail, or at least wave down someone who knows the ropes.
Part of the reason my morning meditation was so tumultuous was that I realized partway through that I had an afternoon appointment at the Centre for Mental Health. Two weeks ago I phoned about a pilot program. Bridging Employment Supports, and arranged an interview. The problem is I have to go on a waiting list, and the program might be cut at the end of May. I had determined to take every advantage of this one opportunity.
On the walk downtown this afternoon I rehearsed the meeting in my head. I was afraid the interviewer would be indifferent. I needed to communicate my problem clearly and grill her for as much information as possible. Anxiety worked against me, threatening to deflect my concentration, clam up and forget what questions I needed to ask. I have let too many doors close that way. I felt my mind rising to a state of higher awareness, almost mania. So much depended on me finding a way forward, even a faint trail.
( The interview +1 picture )
But I still feel like I'm sailing. I can't let down my guard. You have to stay in control of the boat. I don't know what I'm doing. I have this felt enthusiasm before, appreciate it's value, and fear losing it. If I capsize I'll have trouble setting things right again. Anxiety could lead to exhaustion and burn out.
If it does, it does. That's the lesson of meditation. I can't fight with myself. I have to accept whatever comes. If things get better, it won't come from fighting with myself, but learning to trust my abilities and the acceptance of others.
The same way I trust myself on the water, holding the wind in my hand.
A later storm seriously damaged the boat where it was beached high above the normal waterline. Mike was heartbroken but never repaired it.
I was 16 when my eldest brother Bob bought a Laser for the family's new cottage on Lake Fletcher. In that boat, my cousin taught me how to sail.
Speed has never appealed to me much. I have mixed feelings about snowmobiles, motorcycles and downhill skiing. But in a sailboat, cutting like a whisper across the waves, I am Ged guiding Lookfar across the high seas. I love the feel of sun on my brow, air rushing past and water spraying over the bow. To read the play of breeze on the water and match my strength against the sail's tug on the mainsheet, to wrestle the wind with my arm, makes me feel one with the air. I am a spirit of the atmosphere. I am a gull.
Me with the Laser in about 1987, age 23. What a blondie I was in my 20s! At right is John Duncan, my roommate from 1986 to 1988. Last time I spoke with him about 10 years ago he was on furlough from missionary work in Djibouti. Photo by my mom, Donna Waffle, I think.
Sailing on Lake Fletcher is not for the faint of heart. Fresh breezes arise on most fine summer afternoons. Gusts churn amongst the surrounding hills and funnel through narrow channels. They come unexpectedly out of nowhere. As a novice I expected to get overturned at least once a day. Once I learned to handle the boat, dunking was no longer an end in itself, and yet it was always an exciting possibility. It was exhilarating to right the overturned craft and get control of the sail again. It was sometimes exhausting, but with the security of a peaceful dock not far away, I was confident to ride the wind all afternoon.
Lately I feel I have been sailing, but in another element. Whenever one undertakes a serious meditative practice, one must be prepared for challenges. My meditations are mostly an exercise in relaxation and finding a calm space within myself. Difficult emotions rarely arise, but arise they must. One cannot ignore or bypass pain on the path to balance and serenity. Meditation reveals inner conflicts and requires us to face them.
Today was one of those days. This morning some unexpected gusts hit. Grief over past experiences, frustration over time wasted and opportunities lost. I felt the keen edge of knowing what I want but have not achieved, mostly for lack of willpower. I believe anything is possible, however life offers no guarantees, and I see a few cards stacked against me. Optimist though I am, I can't follow my dreams without acknowledging the fear that the effort will come to nought. It is fear that has held me back, and fear I must learn to smile in the face before it fulfils itself.
I'm caught on the lake of life trying to teach myself how to sail, or at least wave down someone who knows the ropes.
Part of the reason my morning meditation was so tumultuous was that I realized partway through that I had an afternoon appointment at the Centre for Mental Health. Two weeks ago I phoned about a pilot program. Bridging Employment Supports, and arranged an interview. The problem is I have to go on a waiting list, and the program might be cut at the end of May. I had determined to take every advantage of this one opportunity.
On the walk downtown this afternoon I rehearsed the meeting in my head. I was afraid the interviewer would be indifferent. I needed to communicate my problem clearly and grill her for as much information as possible. Anxiety worked against me, threatening to deflect my concentration, clam up and forget what questions I needed to ask. I have let too many doors close that way. I felt my mind rising to a state of higher awareness, almost mania. So much depended on me finding a way forward, even a faint trail.
( The interview +1 picture )
But I still feel like I'm sailing. I can't let down my guard. You have to stay in control of the boat. I don't know what I'm doing. I have this felt enthusiasm before, appreciate it's value, and fear losing it. If I capsize I'll have trouble setting things right again. Anxiety could lead to exhaustion and burn out.
If it does, it does. That's the lesson of meditation. I can't fight with myself. I have to accept whatever comes. If things get better, it won't come from fighting with myself, but learning to trust my abilities and the acceptance of others.
The same way I trust myself on the water, holding the wind in my hand.
