Taking the Time

You know that thing you do where you practice conversations in your head that may or may not even happen? There’s a lot of time to do that here at sea. My mind wanders like it’s picking random directions in a maze. I think about lots of conversations I may never have. I think about conversations I have had and replay them in my head. I think about what I could have said or how I could have acted differently.

I think about a problem with a line on the boat and how I could go about fixing it with what we have on board. I think about knots I’ve just learned and visualize tying them over and over. I try to pick apart why certain knots are easier to take apart even after immense loads are acting on them - what forces are at play? I think about potential new ways to tie old knots.

I think about fluid dynamics and the invisible parabolic curve of flux made on the inner edge of a pipe as a fluid flows through it. I stretch to remember if it’s actually a parabola and if it applies to surfaces other than the inside of a pipe. I wonder how it applies to the forces exerted on the boat that’s carrying me across an ocean. I think about Michael Jackson because Dr. On Shun Pak created a link between fluids and the white-gloved pop star in my mind.

I think about how Jan asked me some questions about solar power and hydrogenation and batteries and watts vs amp-hours. I feel embarrassed, like I should know more than I was able to offer his queries. I wish I did remember more. I wonder why it didn’t stick in my mind; I wonder if I did something wrong. Did I not care enough? My biggest fear is wasted time. I remind myself that more likely than not, I’m not unique in feeling all these things.

As the trip goes on and especially as the seas get bigger, I find my tolerance for any productive work to be falling fast. A 10 minute boat job feels like it saps all my energy and I need to lay around for 15 or 30 minutes before I feel energized enough to get up and get a drink of water. “Another boat job? How about in an hour?” It feels like we have all the time in the world. We sort of do.

I try to remind myself to stay in the moment. Most of the day all day I’m trying to be in the moment. Sometimes, it’s exhausting to be so present all day every day. But I feel in good company:

"She felt as if huge wheels, of time and stars, were turning slowly around her.

She opened her eyes and then, somewhere inside, she opened her eyes again.

She heard the grass growing, and the sound of worms below the turf. She could feel the thousands of little lives around her, smell all the scents on the breeze, and see all the shades of the night.

The wheels of stars and years, of space and time, locked into place. She knew exactly where she was, and who she was, and what she was.

…

I’ll never again feel as tall as the sky and as old as the hills and as strong as the sea. I’ve been given something for a while, and the price of it is that I have to give it back.

The reward is giving it back, too. No human could live like this. You could spend all day looking at a flower to see how wonderful it is, and that wouldn’t get the milking done. No wonder we dream our way through our lives. To be awake, and see it all as it really is… no one could stand that for long.

…

She felt it all draining away. It was like falling asleep, sliding from that strange wide-awakeness into just normal everyday…well, being awake. It felt as if everything was blurred and muffled.

This is how we always feel, she thought. We sleepwalk through our lives, because how could we live if we were always this awake?"

- Terry Pratchett

What a life! What a wonderful world.

E