by Ray Jason
How
sweet was this? Looking at the tables full of sailors eating,
chatting and smiling, I realized that I was one of those rarest of
individuals – someone who had found his Tribe. In a world cursed
with profound loneliness that is deliberately hidden behind the
charade of cyber connectivity, I was blessed with genuine
community.
These
were not Facebook friends, they were face-to-face friends. We were
not communicating via screens and pixels. We were interacting with
our voices, our glances, our laughter.
My
fantastic local marina had provided three big turkeys for our
Thanksgiving Day feast. Two of the cruising wives spent about TWENTY
hours cooking them up … in a single oven. The rest of us brought
pot luck items that overflowed the serving tables.
These
thirty sailors, gathering together to share food and friendship,
hailed from ten different countries. Four different languages were
being spoken – actually five – if you count Aussie.
Back
in the so-called Real World, the social engineers are deliberately
stoking the fires of unnecessary antagonism. They understand that
the more tension there is between various groups, the easier it is to
increase their control over the battling factions.
But
in our sailing tribe there is an over-arching commonality that
focuses on our similarities rather than our differences. We all had
to endure difficult and dangerous conditions at sea in order to get
here. We all realized that back where we came from, the social
fabric was being shredded. And we all recognized that the situation
would probably become far worse before it got better – if it ever
got better. Such shared experience forges some very strong bonds.
Our
fleet is a last bastion of true equality. Nobody cares how large or
small your boat is. But they do expect you to not anchor too close,
which would put other vessels in harm’s way. Most of us don’t
know what the other cruisers did “back there.” But we do know
that some really good traits for “right here” include being
easy-going and conscientious and with a sense of humor. And being
rich doesn’t mean much in our world. We value heart worth over net
worth.
Our
cruisers’ feast lasted about three hours. No voices were raised,
no strident arguments over petty politics broke out. Instead, our
friendship and fellowship was celebrated.
Most
of us probably paused at some point during the afternoon and
recognized that this was the formula for rich living. Our lives do
not hamster wheel around stuff or schedules or speed. They flow
quietly and slowly like the tides that embrace us.
And
we laughed over the frenzy that would grip the U.S. the next day as
consumers embraced their “inner barbarian” at Black Friday sales
in El Norte. Here, in the Archipelago of Bliss, there are no malls
or cineplexes or fast food restaurants. But there are beaches
without footprints, reefs without divers and anchorages without
boats.
*******
A
few hours after everyone had returned to their boats, I sat on a
nearby dock to reflect a bit more on this lovely day. A new moon
bejeweled the West with its graceful sickle shape.
It
reminded me that I often feel like a fool barking at the moon,
because my little essays just seem to evaporate in the vast
emptiness. My core message has been that we seem so hypnotized by
the frenzy and glitter of the modern world that we do not see the
emptiness that it hides.
The
antidote that I have prescribed time and again has been to return to
those things in Life that are elemental and enduring. And this day
was a perfect template. Food made with loving hands and shared with
friends. Relaxed conversation and laughter with shipmates for whom
you have genuine admiration and affection. A joyous today and a
gleaming tomorrow.
Now
the moon was beginning to dip behind the trees on the hillside. I
stood up and started to head back to my lovely sailboat. After a
few steps there was a little splash from a jumping fish. I paused
and looked back at the water.
And
then this aging sea gypsy bowed his head … and gave thanks.
