It is the same meal on the boat; the only difference is that on the boat a mission follows the meal. Here at home it feels as if I have missed the last step on the way down a staircase. I rise out of the chair, move forward, but then stop and wonder what is next. It is an odd feeling, like I have lost my equilibrium.
When living on the boat for extended periods the body gets use to the constant motion and adapts. The brain compensates, dampening the yaw, pitch, and roll. It is when back on a firm surface that the above motions return. It seems the compensation has a built in delay. To readjust to the earth’s solid unmoving surface takes time.
And so, now, several weeks off the water I find my first steps continue to be calculated and unsteady. I attribute this to age, since the transition was not such an interminable process years back. I also attribute it to a lack of mission.
On the boat after breakfast there is a course to plot, pre-start checklists to follow, weather and tides to review, an anchor to raise, and the general work of making the little ship shipshape. These determinant steps are lacking on land.
Other than finding my car keys, I do not need a checklist to walk out to the car and start it. Though, as I write this, I can feel the void quickly dissipating. Doctor appointments are scheduled, dinner plans with friends and family are in the works, trips for provisions are contemplated, and maybe, if the Covid variant allows, a jazz or classical venue will be visited.
This summer’s cruise exist only as reminiscence. The wind, waves, tides, and currents are a thing of the past. My mind has begun to relinquish control to the default of the stable earth. Soon my first steps will be without hesitation.
So, I will cherish this time of hesitancy to move out onto a stable platform and continue to steady myself . . . as I search for a mission.
September 2021
