WELL I haven’t been writing much with travels to Florida and New York, moving onto a boat, fixing the boat, and riding the giant orange wave of the 2016 Presidential Election. It has been a whirlwind with its share of challenges. Just to give you a taste, in the last 48 hours, our car is intermittently dying, JB’s dinghy is in cahoots with the car to work against us, our battery bank on the boat doesn’t hold any charge (so no power), and our car tire blew out. For the most part, JB and I do a pretty good job at laughing it off and riding the wave. If someone gets angry, it’s usually me, but there are those rare RARE times when JB’s brow furrows, and I pull it together. Imagine an angry panda- (I know it’s hard to imagine because it doesn’t happen)- but if it does, you know something is wrong. So far it’s only happened a couple times.
Let me say this, even in the face of challenges, like not having a fridge (BIG DEAL), I love living on a boat, I love the gentle rocking at night, I love the view from Island’s edge, I love sipping coffee in the morning breeze on the trampoline, I love the concept of using the sun’s energy to make our water and the wind’s power to move from point A to B. I love it. I do. There is a lot to fix/spruce up on Lucille/Ahimsa, which comes with the territory of buying a used boat. For one, officially changing the name…but I love it, this is a wonderful life adventure and I have NO REASON to not love every inkling of all the waves that come our way. Except the ferry wake, those guys need to chill out.
Moving her from land to water is a whole saga in itself; the boatyard manager being the fire breathing dragon, our friend Tyler playing hero after facing trials along the way, and the boat casted in the role of captive victim. Maybe I will let that story play out in another blog post, but that is enough for now. She is in the water at St.Thomas and we are living on her.
This post is really just to share a little bit about live-aboard life: there is cleaning, and there is fixing, and when there isn’t cleaning or fixing, there is trampoline yoga. Which is really the only yoga I’m doing without being sick. My physical practice has taken a step back due to the severe land sickness I get, which is more or less being seasick on land, inhibiting practice and teaching. Hoping that goes away (as I write this post I feel my head moving side to side), but thankfully I don’t get seasick! JB thought he would be playing in the water a bit more, but let me refer back to the fixing part of boat life (and working full time). We fix things together, I wait for him to yell at me to get a tool, when I ask “where is it?” like clockwork, he responds, “I don’t know.” Every. Time. We get excited, fixes seem to work, and then they seem to not work. The natural ebb and flow of boat-life. We have three dinghies, and we are lucky to have 1 working at any given time, seriously we have had 0/3 working.
We are also having a hard time finding a place to live. Since the plan is to leave in March, we don’t want to invest too much into a mooring ball. However, we have learned it is near impossible to anchor in the most livable place on island (livable considers many factors: car safety, boat safety, personal safety when walking from car to dinghy, boat comfort, accessibility to our respective jobs…). Just this morning we got told to move the boat since we were anchored too close to the shipping channel. We are hopping from ball to anchor to ball to anchor, all the while trying to not piss off out respective boat neighbors (that “have been here 25 years”). Boaters live in a close knit community, some members saltier than others, and being new is equivalent to being a freshman in high school, or being Donald Trump in the White House (earn our respect you dunce). I was under the false impression that living on a boat would allow me to crawl deeper into my hole of isolationism. This is good though, I can’t go on running from conversation and the resulting judgments people make of me. WHY?! Why do most people think they know what I/you are all about after a 10 minute conversation, we are ever evolving, but you have now shoved me into a box with a label on it.I’m guilty of this too. To the eyes of many I am unmotivated, unintelligent, impatient, angry, entitled, out of touch, sensitive, judging, lazy….. and I have no doubt I am some of those things, some of the time. SO ARE YOU. I am also kind, patient, empathetic, heart felt, aspiring, hopeful, understanding….and so are you. *rant over*
Laying under the car in his work pants, changing a tire at 8pm outside of China King restaurant, I commented to JB “It is a good thing we face so many challenges together. I’m reacting better and better with each one, one day I won’t get angry at all.” He laughed and mumbled something that I took to indicate his agreement. It is hard to break your patterns, they seem to have their grounding in really muddy holding (holding: a new boat for me, referring to the substance you anchor in and its ability to prevent your boat from breaking and drifting to its impending rocky death). Often for me, I instantaneously notice my anger and playing of victim, so it is quickly followed by sorry and reflection (sometimes in the form of a self-deprecation). There is a brief space of time between the challenge I face, and my reaction; and every day in my practice I work towards expanding that space and filling it with gentleness. It is the space between where I make decisions, where I cultivate discipline and kindness, between the inhale and the exhale, between the movement and the stillness, between the thought and my attachment to the thought, between the crest and trough, between now and 2020.
(Funny side note: I was literally on the boat for no more than 2 hours before falling in)