I’ve spent the past few months living aboard a 32 foot sailboat. Living on solid ground worked well enough; it was certainly roomier, a storm was something that merely passed in the night, the weather something you might have the good luck to notice whilst heading to work.
Two nights ago, an exquisitely powerful storm had the good sense to come through our area. You’d think being at a constant 15 degree heel, with the boat swinging wildly back and forth would be taking my sleep away, but I’m so used to the continous, flowing motions by now that I could not care less. Admittedly, with 50 knot gusts, earplugs are a necessity to hide the noise of masts, docklines and spraying waves.
All else are no longer issues worth worrying about. Having long lost the sense of being firmly grounded, every day that passes further reduces craving in all its shapes, replacing worry with a deeply grounded independence. I’ve got enough water onboard to quench my thirst across the world’s largest ocean passages, enough fuel, food and propane to keep myself warm and well-fed for the next couple of months. I’ve got enough books for a few years on my iPad, an infinite variety of music on Spotify.
Waking up to the gentle rocking of a windy day made for sailing, opening a bottle of red with the pattering of rain above — realizing this tiny capsule has all I need, I would not want it any other way.