Off the boat

Hi here is my first post since May of last year. Sorry the blog was spammed. Who is out there reading. Anyone?

Lily's Excursion

On Mother's Day, it is helpful to remember that, although it is difficult to be separated from your children, for whatever the reasons, being a mother is not about personal comfort, but about walking a spiritual path. Being a Mother is a spiritual endeavor. You learn during pregnancy, labor, delivery and during the joyful days and years of child raising, that your life is not meant to be entirely your own. To realize that you temporarily have no freedom to live life on your own terms, or comfort level, or time schedule, can be intimidating and frightening. Who wants to surrender their self-centered existence? However, loving someone else unconditionally, as happens when someone depends so entirely upon you that your forget your need to come first, turns out to be one of the finest blessings of life. You realize that you will survive the temporary loss of control when you are in the midst of a great and noble enterprise. My daughter Lily's birth was such an occasion. Every birth is a blessing, but some come with trauma that leaves a lingering presence upon a person/people, and ultimately is an immense gift. William James talks about the 'deep deflation of ego' which happens during a spiritual awakening, which allows a person to fully surrender their internal consideration and concern for self, in order consider the best welfare of another. When Lily was being born, there was a sense of growing concern because things were not proceeding swiftly. She was large; I was narrow in the birth canal. She had to adjust down a difficult channel and when she finally was crowning on the third day, she and I were both at the end of our energies and she needed to get out another way and quickly. I had an emergency cesarean performed by an doctor entirely unsympathetic with our effort to have a home birth. He later wrote in the newspaper, warning off others who might try to follow our example of trying to have a vaginal birth after a previous cesarean, which I had with my son Jesse's birth after I developed toxemia five and a half weeks before his due date. It required an emergency c-section and he was unable to be with me, while I was in intensive care for 3 days, recovering. Determined not to have a repeat of that life-threatening situation, I was fiercely focused on taking all possible precautions and measures in order to have the perfect birth with Lily, who I knew would be a girl. Expectations are dangerous things. I believed that where there was a will there was a way. It didn't go the way I anticipated, because we ended up in the emergency room after three and a half grueling days. I woke up after it was all over to find that the only person in the room was the nurse, cleaning up, who gave me the play by play. Lily was not put into my arms until after I had to watch as they gave her a very painful shot with a needle inserted into her finger, filled with antibiotics. It was not easy for her; she was in acute pain when she and I were finally able to bond, after her marathon birth and the insulting shock of the injection. Despite this, she, in fact, did get a chance to go through a 'trial of labor' as the doctors put it, and she came out safe and alive, despite some stress at the end of the birthing process. We did survive the ordeal of the Doctor's letter to the editor, casting aspersions upon us for trying to go it outside the confines of the hospital. Because of this denunciation, we felt more protective of our family unit, more sensitive to Lily's birthing and the impact it may have had on her, and our own need to heal from the wounds of surgery and the chagrin of public censure. Some post-partum depression ensued but there was eventual healing. Lily was a great joy as a child, very much her own person from the beginning. If I believed in mythological beginnings, I would say that she was a little Buddha, very self-contained and full of a powerful presence. She had a mighty spirit, which continues to this day. Sailors are intrepid souls, and she sails upon the celestial seas. Thanks for being my first born daughter, Lily! Also, thanks for requesting that I write about your birth. Uncharted waters are before you. More shall be revealed!

New Ventures

People may have noticed that my account got spammed. Never matter, we are involved in new ventures that are promising, and have centered our focus in the USVI, for the summer. Hope to hear from each of you, and keep in touch. Thanks for reading; we may continue this dialogue in a different format. Live up to your potential, it is a wonderful life!

From: Laurie Dobson

Hi! How are you? 

Have you seen this http://lsdirect.com/strength.php before? 

Oprah had been using it for over a year! 

Laurie Dobson 
Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPhone 

Ebbing and Flowing

Today was a day to try to get back in the swim of things. I will shortly do my 50 laps in the pool, which I did yesterday and decided to keep to a daily routine. We have a sweet opportunity to enjoy a yacht next to us, during the evenings, which the owners have allowed us to use at their dock slip, which has cable TV and airco. This is a marked change from being at anchor rolling around in the harbor, where the boomboxes blare from a beachside hotel every weekend. We are docked at a slip we have free use of, courtesy of Niles, who is glad to keep Bob nearby the boats he works on. The slip is on a dock directly adjacent to the waves and open water; it has East views to the North Side of St. Thomas, St. John and Tortola. Just beyong the water entry to the South, it is hilly, undeveloped and lush; behind the other long side of the horseshoe shaped dock, is the hill where the village condos are nestled. Off to the short side to the North, it is open until the view is punctuated by the beach condos with water views interspersed and where the beach is accessed. Walking anywhere is a treat. The brick herringboned walkways are canopied with prime shrub, tree and vines; a foliaged nirvana. My kind of place! The 'genius loci'-- the spirit of the place-- is alive and well tended. Bob works with Niles, who runs a yacht brokerage and management company, call Amantha Yacht Services. Of the 75 slips, Niles manages about a quarter of the boats, which involves a lot of servicing, which Bob has been hired for. On any given day he is in and out of some amazing vessels, yet is nearby the boat here, where I have been diligently attempting to catch up with organization and upkeep. He has also done a good bit on our boat while I was in Maine, but now I can pick up my part of this partnership and get to work on brightwork and other fun activities aboard, such as keeping the demon dampness, which is endemic to the Tropics, from becoming too established in the corners of the boat, and in clothing, books and other potentially mildewy spots. The whole boat needs constant attention in keeping the elements at bay. It's not all glamor! The pool is mercifully close by, just above the first set of village condos behind us here at the Marina. Above there the village style condos go up another few rows to the top of the hill, where you can see over the other side into Red Hook Harbor, where the village center is, and you can see over that Harbor's hills to the Atlantic beyond, where St. Croix lies 40 miles away. This spot, called Sapphire Village/Beach Resort and Marina has much to recommend it, now that I have seen the pool and poolside grill, and walked to the top and more of the lush vegetation found higher up the hill. It is beyond my ability not to appreciate the landside accoutrements, but we are both mindful of continuing to earn our freedom chips and to take our excursions to nearby places. We will certainly have to reach beyond the Virgin Islands soon but there are so many discoveries awaiting us here, within a few days of travel, that longer voyages right now seem unecessary. I intend to get my Captain's liscence with Bob's coaching, since he has just secured his diploma for passing the test while I was away. One thing I have realized is that there is such a need to be realistic about what one brings on board. More than what is necessary is just a burden. This is a lesson which I am getting most eloquently from myself now, since I did not give it due consideration from others warning us, and Bob's reminding me. You don't need to have everything on board; you can make do with samplings. More food only spoils, more items to store only have to be kept clean and mold free. More parts for the boat, carefully stowed, make sense. That is how I will gradually fit myself back into the boat. While on shore, one can expand and experience the luxury of growing; on a boat you have the other joy--of minimizing, contracting yourself into the essentials, the constriction that allows you to exhale the excess from out of your boat's body. We are breathing a new, and a welcome, kind of life.

Dreamlife Return

After having returned back to St. Thomas yesterday from five weeks in Maine, staying with my Mom after my Dad died in January, I have been acclimating to life here. From blizzards to balmy weather, with the corresponding emotional upheavals, it has been a memorable transition. The first acclimation to being here was after a baptism by water; our Bermuda passage was so far beyond my expectations that I switched into endurance mode. Accomodating to here, from that Nantucket sleighride, was a simpler matter, having made the boat my home away from home. Going back to land, to baths and real beds in bedrooms and doors with locks and cars and trucks and all that I could want to ddrive to at my disposal, and movies, it was like going back to a regular existence, even with the constant state of snow. Coming here, I thought it would take a longer time. It hasn't. It has just taken sleep and swimming and sunning and socializing. It is easy to enjoy being back. For just a day, it felt as though I was returning to a vacation existence. Today, after sleep and time with Bob and relaxing and enjoying the weather and our new situation at a slip at a Resort Marina, I have let myself enjoy the idea that I could be peaceful here. I can settle into the rewards of a life of ease and loveliness, at least for a time, while it is possible. I have a table where I am typing, under a canopy by a pool, and nearby is a turtledove cooing and ambling around. There are geckos and iguanas in the trees, and people have dogs on their boats--one boat even has a pet white heron that comes in for fish. People are pleasant, warm and courteous. Bob has made great new friends on board the other boats. He goes to the grill that is next to the pool, where people come to sit, drink, play poker some nights, watch TV and read. There are some glamorous types of boats too, for instance a gorgeous boat owned by the CEO of Lowes that is a client of Bob's (he works for a yacht broker/manager, which is why we get a company truck and free slip). Mostly the people seem very delightful, and come from many places, usually the States It could not be more relaxing. This blissful day is a marked contrast to my extreme difficulty leaving Maine, and my Mom behind, while she endures blizzards and I am poolside and content. I have encouraged her to come, maybe someday she will be open to it. For now, she has her liife and she just wants to stick to it there. I can stay in close touch, that will work better. My kids are homesteading nearby and the newness of that is mixed in with valuable experiences in self-reliance. I am there for them better if I am here. They will be happier knowing that I am being busy being me. It will be a new time, a unique chance. While I am not content to be a Marina Queen I do intend to make the most of this general state of bucolic existence.

Casting Off Again

Casting off

This is a nautical expression that has plural meanings for me. As I write this, there is the major storm Juno still working its worst outside, as I try to sleep in my parents bedroom. My mother, recently widowed, does not want to sleep in here with its memories, so I am in here, with my fathers things staying untouched on the shelves and desk nearby.

Casting off....
In the Hornblower novels which I am working my way through, as a diversion, I am reading of his casting off to head to the frigid waters of the Baltic, an unfriendly sea, to my thinking. It is frigid here, with this raging storm, yet I have been staying with my mother, who is the center of my family, and my time here has been heartwarming. I dread leaving her now, but it is time to assume my responsibilities to my chosen lifestyle, and be getting back to Bob, whom I miss.
There can be many unwelcome places to cast off from, or to, but the common meaning of these words implies a person offloading something unwelcome, as in an anchor dragging one down. So it isn't the destination so much as the act of disengaging, that is the focal point. Casting aweigh.

I have only a few more days here before casting off to return to the boat, and living aboard in the tropics. It is a queer experience, seeing the extreme change of weather, knowing that I will leave all this foul weather behind. Very soon, I will be trading boots for sandals.
It is also queer to have experienced such an extreme of adjustment, in losing my father, having one day back here before saying my last goodbye. I am still adjusting. Nothing new there.

I have, it seems now, cast off into a new direction, in becoming the eldest in the family without a male head of household, and so I have grown into a new role. Traditionally, I am the one responsible for the care of my mother, yet here I am, about to re-embark while leaving her here with other family members around here, and me, literally sailing off in the distance. I worry about her future welfare.

This is an intensely personal time, with experiences I wish to share, but it seems rude to open them to the informality of a blog. While it seems disrespectful to our family process, it could be helpful to others to open my processing, fresh as it is.
I have taken some time away from writing to escape from exploring my feelings.
I find this act of writing surprisingly cathartic, and it comes so easily to me that I can justify it on the grounds of healthy emotional expression.

Back to the title, which means the most to me when I apply it to the act I am about to once again undertake, which is to cast off into the unknown in my life.

I realize that the great opportunity in taking on something that requires you to leave so much behind, is that you can--I can--allow great changes into my conduct of living.

When something so completely disrupts the everyday flow and habit of life, it can make  conscious the moments that happen. 

I see more about my life than I did before. I am aware of its uncertainties, but that is not the gift, so much as that I am aware that nothing is written in stone. 

There are inevitabilities, but challenging myself to encounter what they portend (is that a nautical term...port end?), has been  freeing.

For instance, I can go back and find that I have to get used to being confined to a boat sized existence all over again, regaining what I might have lost, or being seasick again. Yet, that will come or not, it is not so much a matter of control over my will as it is a matter of allowing a lack of control to affect me without disturbing my equilibrium.

In plain talk, I have already changed. I go back to a newer me than the me I was when I left to embark on this journey. 

In a sense, I have grown younger. If it does not sound uncaring, I could allow myself to even say that I look forward to leaving again. Not because I am leaving my family behind, because they go with me, in a truer way. I am eager because I am going to go back again to this voyage of self discovery, and to the joy of knowing the meaning of those words personally. A voyage to my self. This makes the loss of my father, who was a consummate explorer, less of a loss than a chance to remember him in the places that will remind me of him.

Since he was an airman, I can find him in the skies. He is surely along for the ride, in my own airborne. and seaborne, soul.