Tag: Self

Visiting the Island of Self

Visiting the Island of Self

I just finish reading Silence by Thich Nhat Hanh. Kate introduced me to the author through the book True Love that she brought with her onboard. We sometimes read the book together and we got into the habit of using some of its formulas during every day difficulties, or when we want to acknowledge something good. We learned to call each other “Dear One” and few of the passages were also read as vows during our marriage in front of family and friends.

I enjoyed Silence, Thich Nhat Hanh writes in a very simple and direct way and provides precious stories from which he draws lessons, little examples and suggestions that help in every day life. It also contains a powerful message.

Despite what society tells us, solitude and silence are good for us.

Even on our boat, anchored in a peaceful lagoon and isolated by most of the noise and banter of society, we are constantly seeking distraction or entertainment. When we are not working or doing chores we read, listen to podcasts, watch movies and TV series or stare at our phones. We pretend we are learning, or that we are keeping up to date with cultural novelties and world news. In reality we are filling up our minds with other people’s words, and we have no space left to listen to ourselves.

We lost the ability to be in silence and just witness the moment in front of us. We feel boredom, that nothing special or nothing interesting is happening, and that instead every moment has to be exciting, riveting, full of awe. A ray might leap in the air few yards from our boat and we don’t see it because we are reading about the White House Correspondents Dinner.

It’s very difficult to pick what’s most important when we have an infinite menu of options and the result is that we rarely just stop and appreciate the moment because there is something new to try. Doing nothing is still labeled to be uneconomical or a luxury, but being distracted by entertainment is instead advertised to us from many outlets.

Even for us who voluntarily remove ourselves from most of the stimuli and obligations of everyday life, it is hard to accept that sitting and do nothing but breathe is part of human nature.

We can make yourself busy only to a certain point on a boat, then we run out of options. We can’t easily go to the movies, meet people in bars, join a yoga class, but we can still avoid the present moment thanks to technology like smartphones, computers and bluetooth speakers.

The book explains how to accept and embrace the moments of silence, to look for them during the day, to come back to yourself many times a day, so you don’t forget the steps that leads to your inner space. This concept of sacred inner space particularly strikes my chord. Thich Nhat Hanh writes about what the Buddha calls “the island of self”: A space within ourselves that is nourishing and calming, where we seek refuge and comfort.

If when things go well we take care of this island within ourselves, then when problems arise, it will be a well suited harbor to deal with our struggles or to simply rest and recover. It is important to regularly visit this inner space and deal with the things that live there, or else, in the time of need we will find it is an unfamiliar place and we will not feel at ease. We would have nowhere to go and will direct our attention outward, eager for a distraction from our problems

I visited many islands in the physical world we call Earth. Living on a boat and knowing how to sail help to visit these far away places. Most of them, despite the difference in size and landscape are characterized by what visitors call with irony “island time”, the perception that thing happens at a different pace, sometimes with different mindset.

The more a community is remote and isolated, the more it creates and transmits a unique culture and character. People coming from the mainland are attracted and repulsed by this atmosphere, they like to bathe in it for holiday time, but then they run back to the comforts and strict schedules of their lives.

Isolation has an important role in the scientific theory of evolution. Divergent evolution and speciation happen when a reproductive barrier like a geographical division separates a small group from the main population. Change and mutations happen at a faster pace in isolated communities, and this creates the emergence of diversity or even bring to the creation of a new species. Isolation favors evolution and enhance individual characteristic that are diluted in larger population. Individuals and their unique expression matter a lot more and can drastically change the World.

If we learn to sit and be still and enjoy being here, we can listen to the change that we want to see in ourselves and in the world. We can become authentic, find our own words, inhabit our psyche.

I am already trying out some of the suggestions from the book in my everyday life, and try to share them with Kate too. We soon instituted the silence moment, when podcasts or music are not allowed and phones are put away.

We already noticed that we engage in more meaningful conversations that have nothing to do with immediate concerns or schedules when we are embraced by silence. Also we accept and encourage moments of solitude, silence, practicing the most important skill needed to live together on board: staying out of the way.

Kate and I both need personal space and that can only be achieved by paying attention to each other. Knowing that the consequences of our actions will influence the other is the first thing to reduce our negative impact on the peace of mind of the people who surround us.

When we visit the Island of Self we are making space inside and around us, and every little extra space is gold on our tiny sailboat.

I know boats…

I know boats…

Je connais des bateaux qui s’égratignent un peu

Sur les routes de la mer où les mène leur jeu

 (transl. “I know boats that get little scratches
On the ocean roads where their games lead to”)

 Mannick, Je connais des bateux

The “Idea of Self” has given me trouble since I had memory. When sailing became an unexpected reality in my life these identity troubles got complicated.

The very first time I sailed it was on a 51ft sloop with a dead engine that we took 136 miles away from departure to give her a brand new propulsion apparatus. I still remember that as no biggity, even though I should ask Fernando (the skipper) about it. All the work needed to push the boat with the dinghy through a swinging bridge in a choppy channel in front of a crowd of waterfront breakfast eaters was just new fun activity for an incompetent sailor like me.

Sailing fun
Ignorance can be a bliss

Then there was the first dream about taking off on my own boat: it was a sailing Cayuco (dugout canoe type) from the Kuna people, my belonging stuffed in watertight barrels, coasting South American shores and pulling on the beach every night to enjoy a bonefire and a sound sleep on a hammock. No mosquitos were bothering me in those fantasies. I even dared picturing some offshore sailing in such a craft. It remained a dream when other events dragged me away from Kuna Yala before I could accomplish it.

My Dream Boat
My Dream Boat

What is left of that naive man today? Training and experience, in one word knowledge, added layers of complication to the art of sailing. The present is filled with words like safety equipment, ideal ground tackle, auxiliary mean of propulsion and proper sized elecrical wiring, as well as a lot of gadgets and products that “you can’t sail without” pushed by marketers and opinion leaders. It is extremely hard to make order in all this crap.

Since Tranquility owned our lives, I experienced shifts in what was to be expected from a boat, oscillating from “really just a hull that don’t take water in” to “safe, unsinkable, performance-oriented sailing machine”, sometimes being happy to fall in the first category, sometimes working hard to achieve the latter.

It’s hard to tell why Tranquility chose us, she won’t tell. Being far from the “perfect boat” she challenged our own Idea of Self, our needs and our goals. She proof tested our skills and endurance, she took the majority of our money, forcing us to visit places we had not planned to, before leaving us stranded in an unknown point on the chart. She made ask ourselves if we were ready and when that will be. In synthesis, she changed us.

I am happy I am a different myself, even only for the fact that there was a path in these years, any path really. I can still look behind, look at me now and think about what will come ahead. When past and present look alike, there’s a chance that the future won’t be different. So in the end I am happy about this incongruity.

I usually welcome change. Helping others going through change was part of my career back in pre-financial crisis Italy, so I can’t exclude I suffer from the prejudice that sees change as inherently good, necessary and unavoidable. Sometimes I look back with nostalgia to the man that wouldn’t hesitate to embark in an unsafe, uncertain journey on an ill-equipped vessel, and I wish I hadn’t changed.

Knowledge and experience can be a heavy and safe anchor, but when it grows too big it could block any movement at all. The restoration chapter of Tranquility has gone through the same pattern. We started performing the quickest cheapest and unfinished jury rig repairs to be able to leave before the winter gales, and now we would spend a considerable amount of time and money to make things “the best we can”.

Tranquility undergoing surgeries
Tranquility undergoing surgeries

There are definetely good learning coming from this endeavor, but the more we remain attached to a dock and in the range of hardware stores, marine suppliers and Amazon Prime, the poorer we become and the less likely we are to unmoor as the perfect boat is nothing but an illusion.

 “Je connais des bateaux tellement enchaînés
Qu’ils ont désappris comment se libérer!”
(transl. “I know so chained boats
They have forgotten how to break free!”)

Maybe Tranquility needed somebody who would give her an anti-age treatment, new life out of tiredness. Maybe she had something to teach two illiterate sailors like us, or she was looking for warmer climate to retire. Maybe it’s all or none of that, it’s very hard to get her to cough the story up. Or maybe she is not immune to different Ideas of Self battling for supremacy. She used to sail across the ocean, she has it in her bones and chances are that she misses it very badly.

I know boats that are never really finished but this doesn’t stop them from setting sail. And I have the suspect Tranquility is one of those boats.

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