We have found a way to survive the Erie Canal. But it came at a cost: another sinking of our dinghy Salty II when we tried to tow it sideways into a lock, scratches and yellow paint marks on Ginger Lee’s port side from a particularly turbulent lock when we got knocked sideways into the wall, and a bruised ego from not foreseeing such easily avoidable events.
But we have learned from these mistakes, and have adopted a new rhythm to not only our boating style, but to our lifestyle as well.
The Erie has many locks–35 in all–and after a while, we enter them not with more confidence, but with more of an understanding of what could go wrong in a confined space with swirling currents.
The same applies to our lives. Our lifestyle has dramatically changed. I knew it would. Gosh, we’re living on a 32 foot boat, where a workable day-to-day rhythm of life must be attained.
“Where’s my phone charger”? the XO asks.
“I don’t know”, I answer, “but it can’t be more than 32 feet away.”
We travel slowly along this bucolic waterway for miles. It’s warm and sunny, everything is green and growing, birds sing, flowers bloom, bees buzz, butterflies flit, and nature rejoices. Then you encounter a lock. Suddenly life is not so great anymore. The potential for disaster is wicked high. It’s dark, and deep, and a bit frightening. But you must keep going. You just want to get through it and continue unscathed along the nice part. It’s a metaphor of life. SOCOBO 8/25/17