6/2022
The boat was beautiful, nearly perfect, in fact. Wood that reflected the light of the sun. Richly colored in a deep mahogany. Hand crafted. Meticulously created with every detail taken into consideration. High above the boat was The Sail. Proudly unfurled in the light breeze. Ready to take the boat through unchartered territories. Untold adventures awaited them. The Sail was eager to explore. The boat contemplated its strength against those same adventures.
The sun, just peeking over the horizon beckoned them to start their journey. The skies were clear. The air was warm. It was the beginning of the new season. The waters were crystal clear and chilled, the bottom visible from the safety of the dock. The various rock fragments on the shore bottom reflected back the sun. Hope and joy filled The Sail.
Last minute checks and the ropes were untied. The dock creaked with its age. It had seen off many boats in its time. Experienced and quiet was the dock. Filled with the wisdom of time, yet silent. It could've told stories of successes and failures. Boats that took off in glory, never to return to the same port. Others, hauled back battered and broken by the storms. Some had taken large excursions with tales too large to believe. Others had barely ventured from the harbor, returning for fear of the unknown, never experiencing, of all they were capable.
The boat was on its own for the first time. "Glorious freedom", thought The Sail. The boat was checked and rechecked. It creaked as it settled in to this new moment. The waves lapped against the boat, the salt water coating the new wood, leaving its salty film behind. The Sail rippled in the wind, exhilarated with every gust that filled its sails. This was what the Sail was meant to do.
This new day held many promises of new places to explore, open waters with winds that would carry them through untold adventures. The boat had heard of the open waters and winds that had been the demise of many a ship, the sails unable to contain the winds. Some having ripped the masts off the boat leaving the boat in a helpless descent to the ocean floor, its final resting place. The Sail was hopeful and excited. She could only think of how it felt when the air filled her canvas. She felt alive with purpose. She even loved it when it rained and there were only faint winds. She loved it all. She was willing to take the bad with the good. But, today was special. Today she would see the open waters for the first time. Until now, all she had were stories of the winds and waves and open waters. Today, they would be hers to experience. It didn’t hurt that the day was warm with a nice breeze out of the south. Clear, blue skies blanketed the heavens. The sun’s rays dancing off the water like diamonds scattered across its surface.
Slowly the boat moved away from the dock. Lines were thrown onboard, indicating they were moving from the safety they had known. A flurry of activity as places were taken, each to their own tasks at hand. Soon, they were moving out into the harbor, ever closer to the open waters. The boat tense, but settling into the experience thus far. It was in the water, gliding through effortlessly, quietly admitting that it did feel good to do what one was created to do, yet anxious about all the unknowns. The ‘what ifs’. Meanwhile the Sail was unfurled, wind pleasantly filling her canvas. She had never felt more alive. She cried out, “Oh boat! Isn’t this glorious? Do you feel it? This is it! We’re doing it! We’re sailing!” The boat could not share in the Sail’s enthusiasm. “Are the winds picking up? Are the skies still clear? Do you think we should pull a little of you back? Maybe not so full at first?”
Safely out of the harbor, past the narrow part of the canal with potentially damaging rocks on each side, they were out in the ocean. The boat noticed they could still see shore and felt some comfort. It’s not that it wasn’t up for an adventure, it just didn’t like having so many unknowns. The weather could change at any moment. Winds were known to vary wildly in short periods of time. There was no safety out here. No dock to tie off to. No comfort. Just a lot of unknowns labeled as adventure. The Sail felt differently. The winds could vary wildly... what excitement! The challenge of it. No guarantees of safety. Free to experience whatever was dealt them.
For days they continued on like this. A mixture of excitement and tenseness between the boat and the Sail. The weather was beautiful. The morning would begin with an eerie mist that created illusions. Sometime it looked as if there may be another boat out here with them, or some strange creature approaching, only to fade as the mist shifted. Slowly, the sun would appear on the horizon. First as a faint light then painting the skies with sprays of color. Deep oranges and pinks, grays and purples, constantly shifting as the sun rose further from the horizon, finally giving way to crystal blue skies. Occasionally, a stray cloud would float by.
But, this day would be different. It would start the same but within hours the blue skies would give rise to clouds on the horizon from the west. Soon they would become ominous looking. They would billow up and become gray. The winds began to pick up. The Sail was excited about something new and different. The increased winds allowed her to unfurl her canvas even more. Below were conversations of forecasts and concerns. Something about heavy winds and rains that had everyone below scurrying about. The Sail could sense the tension, especially from the boat. The Sail tried to comfort the boat. “Boat, it is just some winds and rain. This is what we were created to do. We will be fine.” The boat would have none of it.
Soon the winds had picked up considerably. The waves began to roll higher and higher. The boat rocked side to side. It rose up on the waves, its bow dipping steeply into the next wave. Soon it was being doused with water from every direction. The Sail was not worried but thrust out it’s canvas as the wind filled her to maximum capacity. She felt exuberant. The rains began to pelt her canvas. Heavier they came. The winds picks up. The Sail began to get a sense of the power of the winds and rains. The wind shifted quickly to come out of the north and delivered an unanticipated gust. The boat reeled to the left, leaning precariously just above the rising waves. A wave crashed over the edge. The Sail could barely contain the wind. One more gust and she’d be in trouble. The mast creaked under the strain. The boat groaned with each wave it navigated. The rains continued, increasing in intensity. The canvas was taut against the wind. There was no give left. This was quite the adventure. Suddenly, another gust and a horrible sound. The Sail looked to see a tear in her canvas. It was small but with each gust it tore a little more. The Sail had not anticipated this. She panicked. She was beginning to notice her canvas being pulled in. She would wait the rest of the storm out, folded up on the boom, out of the wind. Here she felt somewhat safe, albeit frustrated with having her canvas torn. Her beautiful canvas, so beautifully unfurled under the clear blue skies was forever changed. She trembled to think what could’ve happened had she stayed out in the wind and rain.
The boat rocked heavily through the storm. The boat was left on its own through the storm. No help from the Sail to pull It through the waters. Night fell and still the boat rocked on violently, while the winds whipped about the deck, tossing the boat carelessly about. The Sail dreamed of being unfurled again, winds filling her. She whispered to the boat, “How are you doing?” No response. She figured some things one just needs to go through on their own.
Morning came with a welcome stillness. Slowly the world began to awaken. The sun peered over the horizon. There was a calm to the day that brought with it relief. The Sail was unfurled. Not to be filled with the morning breezes, but to be repaired. Diligently, she was stitched together. Her first blemish. No longer would she be as beautiful as she once was. But, the experience had strengthened her in another way. She knew the fierceness of the wind and rain and ocean. She now knew its capacity. She checked in with the boat again,”How are you this morning?” “OK”, came the quiet reply. “Thanks, boat. You were great.”
Soon, they were under sail again. The days continued. There was the occasional storm bringing with it the winds and rains. Some were more severe than others. More tears, more repairs to the Sail. Always, though, the Sail felt exhilarated. If she was going to meet her demise, she wanted to do it with her sails unfurled. Time passed.
Over the years, she had experienced many new adventures. She had seen new harbors, seen other boats smaller and larger than boat. She had been frightened, amused, content, but never questioned what she loved. The boat had journeyed on with her. Still maintaining its tension and fear. The Sail knew she had lived deeply in the past years. She also knew the boat was a type of anchor to her. A trusted ally when things had become tough. When the winds threatened to do her in, when she had to be removed from the wind, unfurled, it was then she knew the boat was capable of carrying her through the storms. Without the boat, she would not have arrived anywhere. She had come to love the boat. But, she did agree she much preferred being a Sail.
Though her canvas was worn, tattered and pieced together, she and boat were the envy of all the newer boats as they sailed triumphantly back to that original quiet harbor. There were stories about them now. As they eased up to the old dock, the lines were thrown out and secured to the dock. The dock welcomed them back. Boat seemed to ease into its old place with the familiarity of reuniting with an old friend. The Sail was also content. She may not be suitable for another trip, but she had enough experiences and memories to fill her with that contentment of a life well lived, that seeps deep into one’s soul.
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