The Time is Now
By: Lara Dustin Scriba
(3 min. read)
I sit here literally bouncing in my seat as I write, the wind is howling outside again today and has driven us all down below, nestled inside our boats. The weather dictates our every move and the quality of our experience, a deep reverence and respect for Mother Nature has developed quickly out here.
The world used to revolve around us as individuals. Every whim, interest, or need could be indulged by clicking a button, a quick hop in the car, or a phone call. A simple mention in a conversation and an ad pops up, serving you the link to exactly what you were looking for, giving the impression that the world is at our fingertips.
This no longer exists, yet it feels like the whole world has opened up in such a deeper and more profound way. Simplicity and depth are what I have been craving for so long, and it seems I have found that out here in the wind and the waves. The further we sail south, the more distractions fall away, and we immerse ourselves in each day’s simple yet precious moments.
We gather information from our immediate environment. The weather dictates when and where we will move. The wind can pipe up at a moment’s notice, sending the kids scrambling to their respective boats after a careless, fulfilled morning playing in the water. We attempt to make plans, knowing deep down they are mere suggestions, which, in a way, feels incredibly freeing.
Food no longer goes to waste, especially fresh produce, as it can be hard to come by. As the blueberries wilt or bananas brown, I fire up the stove and make a blueberry reduction or banana bread for the upcoming passage. Baked feta pasta is a decadent treat on a calm night at anchor, devoured with deep appreciation after days of eating “quick foods” that require minimal prep due to rough seas or extended passages.
Friendships are formed in a matter of moments rather than years like on land. All pretense falls away, and the desire for meaningful connection overrides any apprehension that may exist. There is such a sense of absolute delight when all the adults are tucked into the cockpit, swapping stories or advice, and the cruising kids are down below squealing and laughing together. Hearing a quick “What’s your name again?” as they assign roles or rules to a game they just made up. There is no hierarchy, no clicks out here at sea. You belong because you exist, plain and simple. It’s beautiful.
As the world opens up, a preciousness is felt towards the kid boats within your proximity. We seem to gather like a little swarm of bees. Collecting one or two more at each stop we make, hopping down the coast together, our hive has expanded from two to five now, and we are only halfway down the coast. Each boat has its own unique personality and experiences to share. I find myself enraptured not only by the stories they tell that brought them to this point but also inspired by the stories they are currently writing.
We are all finding our edges and testing our previous assumptions about what is possible for ourselves or others. Doors of possibility open as each assumption is dispelled, the world’s wonders become more accessible by the minute. The need to know what day of the week has melted away; each moment demands our full attention, and all we really need to know… is that the time is now.
