Who Does The Water Think I Am?

Good Morning, Afternoon or Evening. 

This post was inspired by something that one of my sailing mentors posted online, which I read during my sail south:

“We had our boat hauled and set on land for winter. It’s one of the seasonal rituals, living where we do. As I tarp the boat I ask: Who will I be when I sail with you again?…Who will I be, come spring, when I pull off the tarp? I have experienced such sudden and unexpected changes in my life, that I know this for certain: I won’t be the same person I am now.” 

-Mathias Dubilier

Reading this sparked an exercise in discovering for myself the subtle ways I feel that I’ve grown overtime. A significant method of comparison that we use to understand this is in relation to the people we hold close to us. 

Next week I will go home for Thanksgiving. There are many people in my family that I have not seen for three years now. It’s difficult not to think of how different of a person I am than I was the last time I saw them. So much life has happened in the span of three years. So much life can happen even in three days. 

I’m hit with so many questions to mull over. How has my way of interacting changed over time? Am I more confident?  Am I a better listener? Am I more empathetic? Or am I actually worse at these things? What am I bringing to relationships that I wasn’t before? What am I no longer bringing to these same relationships?

And the beauty of this is that it’s two sided.How have they changed? How has life moulded and carved them in the space of three years? Perhaps they’ve undergone major life changing events. Made friends, lost friends. Had their hearts broken or broken someone’s heart. They’ve learned more about themselves throughout it all. And all of this growth is being brought back into this relationship we share. 

Relationships are a beautiful, but sometimes painful and challenging way to hold a mirror up to yourself. Both sides are responsible for the morphing and evolving that happens over time. It can be loud and messy to sort out. With all of the noise, it’s important to step into a quieter method of observation. 

I think back to the post by Mathias. His thoughts were with his relationship to his boat, Zafira. I step away from the clamor of humans and go to the special boats, and the special waters that are so close to my heart. I consider who I will be the next time I sail north. 

For the past four summers I have sailed on Lake Champlain. I remember the first sail of each year. It always feels so good to let the wind blow away anything that happened the previous winter. It’s called a shakedown sail for the boat, but it’s also a shakedown sail for us. Reintroducing us to the summer and calling back on the people we were over six months ago. And each year, that person who casts off the lines at the dock in spring is different from the person who tied the final cleat hitch the previous fall. 

 While Lake Champlain has many different moods, her most significant change revolves around my impression of her. She stays steadily the same year after year, while I evolve and reform each winter. So each year, during my seasonal shakedown I can really observe. 

Am I more confident? Am I a better listener? Am I more empathetic? In what ways am I new? What is the lake showing me? She holds up her own mirror. It’s just a whisper, but if you listen she will tell you who you now are.

I implore you to think about who you have become not only to other people. I implore you to think about who you have become to yourself. Whether that is in the span of three days or three years. Going forward, observe your relationship with the beautiful places around you that hold space in your heart. What are those spaces whispering to you? Try and listen.