In the oceanic journey of life, I had been lately held back by a not inconsiderable coefficient of friction, a force pulling at my hull as I yet strove to catch the winds blowing around me. There was ample breeze, I could see the puffs of wind on the surface, but I seemed incapable of getting up on an easy plane, reaching across an azure bay as would be lovely. The confidence with which I had long ventured was depleting, a dip into doldrums the inevitable consequence. Uncharacteristically drifting for a spell, the usual kinetic energy was lacking.
And then, suddenly, a gale descends and any thought of floating aimlessly is lost for the sheer need to hold on for dear life and survive. Waves rock the fragile vessel and plunge over the gunwales and things start to float around and then the gentle rocking of the lull period does not seem so terrible in contradistinction. Captain of the ship, it turns to me to keep as calm as possible, even though I wonder whether I am going down into the abyss, but grin with just the right width to fool everyone and nobody.
Radar is a helpful tool, so too is instinct, and both had long been sounding this alarm, but the human mind is capable of enormous self-deception when such also means self-preservation. The gathering clouds, the creeping darkness, these were obvious signals, they were registered on a subconscious level, peeking out into the conscious only long enough to be actively repressed. Or, at the very least, acknowledged and then compartmentalized. So when the swells hit, it was not a surprise, but it was still unpleasant.
Terrified and overwhelmed is not the best mental state, but it is most certainly clarifying and energizing when it is isn’t completely exhausting. When a wall of water threatens to drown your crew, there is no choice but to rally, to shout headlong into the raging tempest with a note of challenge, to hold the tiller with a firm hand and not let go until the storm subsides. And, the nature of meteorology and physics is that it will indeed pass, let up, at least offer a respite. Of course, that temporal distance often feels unnavigable.
With no time to question or worry, just to answer and act, there is a surge of immense energy coursing through my body, blowing through any fog or cobwebs, such that my senses are heightened, my vision more acute, my nerve endings tingling. Still buffeted by a whirlwind, I find that I welcome the briny droplets that sting the back of my throat, those reminders that I am still alive and vibrant, that I have worth as a leader and a mate, that I thrive in those dilemmas that would sink another.
Of course, even an old salt craves a mild, whispering gust just strong enough to rock a hammock, a restful period when the stores are replenished. Shore leave, if you will, perhaps without the debauchery that term usually connotes. Being constantly up on keel is too precarious, too stressful to sustain indefinitely. Eventually, even adrenaline runs out, and recuperation is needed, a time to regroup, restore, and get hopefully more prepared than complacent, more contemplative than bored.
I am still out at sea at the moment, but I do not feel stranded, more like I am on a purposeful voyage, my course as plotted as makes sense in these conditions, ready as I am to tack and jibe and alter my bearing. There are calm waters ahead out there somewhere.