Holding on, and letting go.

I arrived early for the sailing adventure. I was honored to be included on this voyage with accomplished sailors and tried to walk down the dock with an air of confidence. In each arm I carried groceries so I could feel like I was offering something journey. Like the person who shops when hungry, the bags were stuffed with more than we needed. “I’ve got this,” I said as I turned down assistance in boarding the boat. I made it and was walking toward the galley when a sudden gust of wind rocked the boat causing me to drop the bags and reach for the mast. As oranges rolled into the bay, and broken eggs began to seep through their containers, I was too mortified to look to look up. Little did I know what an important lesson I was being taught, one that is particularly germane at a time like this.

Like everyone, my regular life has been altered by the coronavirus. Whether by staying home, attending meetings electronically, and only waving to others from afar, a huge gust of wind has come and rocked our routines and ways of looking at the world. It has been disconcerting, to say the least, and we’ve had to reach for something solid, something permanent like the mast on a ship, to steady ourselves. To do so, however, we’ve had to let go of many things we carry, things we once thought were essential.

The ship will settle, and it may take time for us to let go of the mast, but we will stand again. Hopefully, when we do, we won’t be so quick to carry so many things in our arms.