On August 4th, I published part one of an excerpt from Ocean of Insight: A Sailor’s Voyage Deep into the Climate Crisis along with an invitation for the writer in you to offer your critique to help make this better book. Below, the story continues.

I’m sharing paragraphs from the first chapter, one that explores the theme of fear. All humans feel fear sometimes. Many of us are afraid of what’s ahead with the climate crisis and this fear causes us not to lean into the problem but shrink from it. In this chapter, I explore what happened when I was afraid during a sailing emergency, what the Buddha had to say about fear, and how his teaching powerfully transforms both the sailing and climate crisis.

Thanks, in advance, for feedback from the writer in you! H

Kelly is not far away—the woman who taught us how to hunt lobsters last week. Dear, sweet, wonderful Kelly—a stranger who motored alongside our boat in her dinghy one morning and announced, “I’m going to get lobster and you want to learn how. Am I right? Let’s go.” It’s a lot to ask someone to move their ship from a safe harbor during a storm just to lend a hand, but she will do it. She must. I phone.

 

“Oh, yeah, I remember yoooooou,” she slurs. “You should talk with M-mike. He’s your man.” Sounds of things collapsing and muffled grunts splash cold water on my flame of hope.

 

“What’s up?” Mike cheers. Crushed and confused, I jab the phone into Dave’s hand.

 

“Uh-yeah, hi, Mike,” Dave begins with forced nonchalance as he paces the galley. “We are sitting near you off Tilloo Cay. We lost connection between our throttle and engine and we’ve got two anchors in the water, neither of which is holding. We’re backing into shore and we could really use some assistance.”

 

“Ah, broken throttle cable,” Mike muses. “That’s an easy one. Just replace the cable and you’ll be good to go.” Mike hangs up. Dave blinks.

 

“Asshole,” my man mutters.

 

Standing upright, I feel stunned, hollowed out.  I am empty of ideas, optimism, or a plan. Despite years of reading about sailing, certificates from  a slew of sailing courses, and owning several inland lake boats, I realize I have no relevant knowledge or experience to tap into tonight. What exists in the length of my body is fear; it pulses evenly.

 

“I guess that’s that,” I say. “Our cast of characters is complete for this evening’s life-saving drill: husband, wife, damaged engine, slipping anchors, storm, and ocean.”

 

“Don’t forget the rocks.”

 

“Yeah….no chance of forgetting them.” Hot tears well but do not spill. I take a long, slow breath and try as a practiced Buddhist to let go of my desire for things to be different. I will myself to welcome this new reality.