I've noticed it's easier to stay present on a boat at sea. A lot harder when in port. Today is day 83 of our one year voyage together and I want to focus on the joy of staying present.
To my neighbor's child, Joey, there are only the ducks in front of him. He's not worried about anything else. He is not into making meaning yet. He is at peace! He is where most of us aspire to return.
We sailors (we are all sailors if you consider we are sailing through space at 67,000miles per hour on a planet that rotates at something like 1038 miles an hour), think in terms of past, present and future. It's a convenient construct to help us make sense of things and give us hope. But, truth be told, there is no past and there is no future, except in our egoic mind. There is only this present moment and who we choose to be and what we choose to do in each one.
I am writing and you are reading this post in its own time and that's all that matters in this moment. Unless, of course, your ego self interrupts you with some concern from the past, which you cannot change, or the future, which hasn't happened yet.
But in this moment you are only reading this. There is nothing wrong. You are breathing so you are still alive. You are present. All is well.
Since we began this journey I have been doggedly focused on being present. It hasn't always been easy. Yes, I know where I am going and where I want to end up, but have come to know that creation only happens in the moment. When I take advantage of it, two things occur.
The first is that there is quiet in my head. I am not thinking. I am only Being. The second is I am at peace with myself. I am being authentically me. This is a powerful place to engage life from. For when you know who you really are there is peace and strength and acceptance.
Like I said, much easier on a boat away from everyday life.
Today is Easter Sunday for those of us who believe in Jesus Christ, day 83, and life calls upon us yet again to be our next greatest version of our ever evolving selves.
I was looking forward to church all week, looking forward to celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and of life itself. This day always fills me with joy and hope.
Sitting in my usual seat in the last center row waiting for the service to begin, I couldn't help but notice that Dr. Jim, our co-pastor with Dr. Sue, was not yet there. As the service began, Dr. Sue looked shaken. She walked up on the stage and began to pace back and forth, her head down. Then she spoke.
"Dr. Jim called me this morning and told me he cannot be with us this morning," she said. "His beloved daughter, Caitlyn, was killed last night in an automobile accident. He is on his way to Florida to be with his family."
In that moment the entire community, many of whom knew Caitlyn through her participation in the youth ministry, was called upon to be present. And so was Dr. Sue. What can you possibly say when a parent loses a child?
What Dr. Sue, and the very day we were there to celebrate, reminded us of, was that there is no death, only the celebration of life continued. And that while there is no earthly reason for Caitlyn's passing that we will ever fully understand, we are called upon to have faith in the unfolding miracle called life. And in this moment, question what it may mean to each one of us.
What it means to me is that Caitlyn is present with God with no earthly distractions. She is at Peace in the presence of Unconditional Love and Acceptance.
We are, each of us, on our own journey. We will all experience what we are meant to experience if we can be present to each and every sacred moment we are given. Because, as Dr. Sue so profoundly reminded us, it is all sacred. Even Caitlyn's passing.
May God give us the grace and the wisdom to be the light we are here to be in the time we are given. To not wait for next week or next year. To be the Light we are meant to be right now. At home. At work. At Sea.
Sail On.
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