Finding anchors in the fog
One childhood memory that is tattooed into my brain is of a particular trip on my uncle’s boat. I couldn’t have been more than 8, possibly younger, and we got stuck out on the water in an unbelievably thick fog. We couldn’t see anything more than 3 feet away.
Logically, I know that the adults probably had everything under control, but whenever this memory comes to mind all I can feel is that absolute terror of the unknown, of what could come out of the fog at any moment, of having no idea of the way to shore.
I can’t tell you how many times that memory has resurfaced in the last several months as I fight to grapple with the uncertainty shrouding so many aspects of life.
Given how ingrained this moment is, it’s rather amazing that I married a mariner. I’ve certainly spent many more hours at sea since we got together and even found myself in similar circumstances on more than one occasion.
Early in our courtship, I had the pleasure of working in the galley of a schooner during the rainiest foggiest summer on Maine record. He taught me to find a certain beauty in the stillness, in the waiting, and, when the panic began to creep in, how to anchor myself in the simple tasks at hand. You peel potatoes, you coil ropes, you wash the deck, man the fog horn, listen for responses.
While my fear was quick to come back to me during this new wave of uncertainty, it’s taken us both more time that we would like to remember the lessons from our sailing days. It’s only recently that I’ve found my way back to anchoring in those small moments of the day.
Instead of making fruitless plans or attempting to power ahead with no sense of direction, I’m finally taking joy in the simple tasks of caring for the animals, stoking the woodstove, making tea. As a family, we look forward to Wednesday Fort Night and Sunday afternoon board games, to the evening routine of stories and songs. Eventually, the fog will lift, we’ll see the shore, and forward movement will again be possible.
For now, we do what is at hand, find joy where we can, gather our strength, and reach out for the possibility of connection.