Monday, September 24, 2012

I'm not scared anymore...

Weeks and months have passed. I spent them in the bubble.
Today I sit once again in the lap of paradise, palm trees swaying, this is Grenada; serenaded by cool jazz as the sweat pours down between my shoulder blades, tickling it’s path down to my waist.
It’s Monday. I proclaimed it laundry day and headed solo in the dinghy, over to Whisper Cove Marina to blog and wash. And so it is.
I am slowly finding my sea legs again and easing into the sore muscles, random bruises and blisters from rope pulling.
I am back home.
But the bubble consumed me for quite a while, lulling me with it’s ease and comforts. Long hot showers, air-conditioned rental car, restaurants of every description and a glut of shopping venues. But for the first time I was more excited in Home Depot and Canadian Tire than clothes stores. Solar lights caught my eye, instead of cute shoes. My boating self did come with me to the bubble.
It is tempting to feel at home, with family and old friends near by, barbecues by the pool, and everything so accessible. We took the opportunities around us, on road trips, ferries out to Toronto Island, the vibrancy of the city is wonderful...
Yet I found myself getting lazy, hazy minded. I lost the will to write, nothing happened that scared me or amazed me or kicked my creative butt. I craved the return to the boat, to take on new challenges, to conquer more fears.
But something strange happened on our arrival.
Despite the downright aggravations of the first 48 hours – flooded, flat dinghy, rolling dock, musty, moldy boat interior, mountains of unpacking, tools, laundry, dead batteries, sweat, sweat and more sweating, there was a paradigm shift within me.
I am not scared anymore.
Anchoring, pulling the boat up alongside a dock, heading out of a bay into the unknown sea; I’ve experienced all of these in the last 3 days and I took them all in stride. This is what I’ve been wanting for so long. No changes in my breathing, no squeezing my palms and shaking and fearing the worst. Dare I say I am now a cruiser?
Up to now, my fear has kept me from feeling genuine. Like a fraud, I’ve been chatting on the beach with real sailors, wondering what it was that made them who they were, and why I couldn’t be like them.
It is a life lesson. We are who we want to be. Act it, do it, and be it. Time is a wonderful teacher, healer, friend.
I’ve come back from my first long break, ready to visit new places, sail, feel the sea and the wind.
I don’t need the bubble. I know it’s there but I am ready to push the envelope. I’m looking forward to a nightsail. A solo watch, just the moon, the waves and me.
I’m going to try making some jewellery. I am going to buzz around in the dinghy alone. I’m going to write more. Write for the sake of it, to flex the muscles of the mind alongside my arms and legs.
I’m alive! 

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