life onboard

simplicity in the flow merit badge

This is what my merit badge looks like. Over the last seven years onboard I have made friends with allowing, releasing old blockages and going with the flow.  Allowing on the most extreme levels....I can now sleep side by side with what had been my arch nemesis: SAND. I can tolerate my children wearing the same t-shirt for 4 days straight. I have acquired a taste for coffee sludge as I pick coffee grounds out of my teeth even after the sun appears four finger widths above the horizon.

It is a time when all earth bound hurdles fall gently to the ground and I no longer need to jump. Vegetables are optional. Candy is a necessity. Ten and seven year old computavores settle quietly in the recesses of darkness. Laundry does not exist. Simple pleasures of a pinwheel seem to delight the senses. The close physical proximity of the four of us reveal interplay of thought and emotion that could never encapsulate itself in the vast landscape of life on land.

Onboard is where there is no time, where Terns perched on the bow rail and juicy cannonballs off the stern can co-exist, where the supply and demand and supply of dry towels are in syncopated circulation, where salt water baths and fresh water rinses suffice for days and days on end.

It is onboard where we all seem to reach the cosmos individually...where the rhythmic evening breaths and gentle waves against the hull beg one to walk the tightrope of awareness and sleep as the beat of our hearts deepen. It is a place when I set the anchor it grabs the first time without any thoughts of skittering across the bottom...it stays...held fast and secure.

I have come to love our 20 year old boat. In years past I would cast envious gazes upon the 70' navy hulled sloopes. Now, boats such as these summon an acknowlegement of beauty...and work. My soul rests easy with this sense of partitioning... just happy to enjoy the here and now without the need to fly at cruising altitude with the Jones'.  Living more from the heart and less from the Ego has enabled a sense of alacrity for life without feeling as if expensive possessions qualified me to live within higher ranks of privilege and worthiness. Less is more...more joy, more freedom, more love.

pixey stick bliss

Rockport, MA happens to be one of the heralded ports of call along our summer waterway although it can prove to have both effects of elation and dread...elation in the form of onshore reinflation....elation of the customary toy store ricochet and reverse ricochet to determine the candy/trinket most worthy of the $5 and $15 respective allowance...elation for the dark mochas at my fingertips...elation to verify whether our credit card can still be set ablaze in joyful gratitude...elation in the form of Rosemarie, the harbormaster...happy to see that we maneuvered our 28' SeaRay Sundancer without upsetting the ecosystem of the inner habor's tightly woven network of lobster boats...and the reward of a hospitable and complimentary pumpout.

This years toy harvest for my daughter Tatum was a plush turquoise octopus that settled on the name Aqua...although I thought Squirt was better. She would have sold her own blood had we not remembered that any money not spend on candy could be transferred over to toys. Trevor, on the other hand would have easily spent the full $20 on candy...the more retina scortchingly sour the better. As we headed back in to the General Store for the fourth time Trevor's spirit grew. It was at this very moment that he realized the cheap plastic pacifiers would no longer soothe his soul...he was making his metamorphosis in front of my own eyes....could it be that he was actually going to SAVE his money?

As we strolled through numerous boutiques (now my turn) we landed amidst Indonesian and Nepalese textiles, woodcarvings, metalwork and singing bowls. Lingering longer than we had in any previous store Trevor reveled in his ability to make these bowls come alive as if he was gifted with a unique Shamanic ability. Upon my insistence we settled on two bowls...one in the note of E to ease the fury of flaming solar plexus' caused by treaded toes and generalized discontent when situations breach over the limit of the illusion of control and one in the note of B to eclipse the discomfort of my ear infection, its surreptitious advantages I enjoyed due to sound deadening properties applied to a wide range of bicker worthy topics onboard.

As we made our way back to "Spin" Trevor had one final purchase request - an Asian diorama under glass. He wanted to keep this semblance of calm...found inspiration in the thought of creating a meditation corner of his room...and persisted with questions relating to the benefits of meditation until he fell into slumber listening to a guided meditation on my ipod.

The following morning at 6:30 a.m. Trevor poked his head into "cozy village" the bunk area I share with my daughter and requested that we go to the end of the breakwater to meditate. Jumping on that opportunity like a frogs tongue to a fly we bouldered over the disarray of granite blocks to the red #6 beacon at the entrance to the harbor. Our legs draped over the edge of the solid stone we reviewed the previous nights beginning meditation overlooking Motif 1 and bounded over the remaining six for fear that he might turn into a pumpkin on the way up the chakra ladder...my eyes wide with disbelief that we were here (in body and mind) to begin with. Pleased with ourselves upon completion, with an impish smile Trevor pulled from his pocket a 3-pack of pixey sticks to share...the meditation-elation firmly embedded by this offering in the way a child comprehends BLISS.

So you ask "How could there be a down side to this story?" The balance to the euphoria found in Rockport heretofore mentioned as "dread" is met every year with the realization that we must cast the dock lines and power towards different waters. Once beyond the breakwater, after we relinquish our sadness in exchange for gratitude, we extend our hearts back up to the cosmos..."Thank you Universe...May we have some more?"

jelly bean siesta

It has taken months and months of preparation for this Moment...this week onboard our humble motor vessel "Spin" anchored in Castle Neck off of Ipswich Bay, MA;My husband's childhood boating turf becoming that of my children.
We have spent seven seasons refining our lists and maneuvers to where we have now successfully achieved family boaters bliss.
My husband has balanced the systems maintenance and aesthetics with clear parameters as to the proportionate time alotted for ATOB...actual time onboard. Nine days onboard does not quantify a two day hull compounding. There are very few shortcuts for engine upkeep which went relatively unthwarted with unanticipated snafus.
My jobs consist of provisioning, clean linens, ship store inventory and making sure that there is enough sugar, hydrogenated fat and salty snack treats to keep the crew happy for days on end.
This year our most beneficial investment of time came in the form of "Boredom Training". Our motto "Piercing through the Veil of Boredom" was an essential element to keeping this season buoyant and joyful. In lieu of back to back summer outsourcing we resorted to puzzles, books and splunki
ng in local streams and riverbeds. Oh jeez...I will admit a slight tarnish of halo and admit that there was significant television exposure involved...but all in all I must say that the process of disconnecting from the seismic shifts of summers gone by was a success...particularly from my current vantage point in an area the size of my pantry...
Yes, all four of us have widdled our 4000 sq.ft. personalities and voices into this space. My husband and I have reclaimed our right to afternoon siestas even if it involves a bag of jelly beans. It has been a lesson in scaling back and slowing down...releasing the need "to do" and exploring the comfort of being; being in the moment, allowing the flow and slowing down to decipher and sort each flavor along the way.