Thresholds

I moved in. This was a difficult threshold. The logistics are complicated. I have been living with two pants and four shirts for the last few months. Now I needed to unpack everything, because my bags don't fit in the boat. So, I need to find ways of ventilating this in 3D, under the floors, under the bed, under the ceiling, in different rooms. This creates chaos.

Moving in the boat is also symbolically indicating that I am finally transitioning into a different life. While most people may think I am living the dream, I am living the loss. I miss having a house that does not move, a house with an abundance of space, water, electricity, and bandwidth. This is the real cost of the passage. The loss is necessary, it does not make it painless.

I am entering a life that is confined and bounded. This is not comfortable. This is not enjoyable. This is a challenge, logistical and emotional.

And there is the threshold I have not crossed, leaving. I went as far as I could by myself when preparing the boat. I could get help while leading the process. The next step is leaving. And this is where I can't lead anymore. This is where I can't go on my own.

I am reaching a point where things don't make sense anymore. I don't know what's significant or not. I don't see the order of things. I can't evaluate the risks. I need to step back and let the skipper take over.

And this is not easy either.

I don't trust the boat. I don't trust the skipper. And I don't trust myself.

We're planning to leave for Noumea. This is the closest land to New Zealand, less than 1000 NM. A small passage by Pacific standards. We should be able to get there in 4 to 5 days. Nothing to worry about says everybody.

But I do worry. Well, worry may not be the right word. I am terrified. Every part of my body and my mind pushes back. It's surprising. I crossed other thresholds in my life. Getting married, having kids, starting a company. But somehow, these thresholds provided the illusion of continuity. This one does not, yet.

I need to get over this debilitating feeling I have to jump over the edge. Maybe this threshold is just an illusion. The real transformation happens in momentum.

I need to find a nautical choreography of Days and Nights in Rocinha. When this piece starts it seems stuck on a simple repetitive melody. But progressively, the repetition gains momentum and complexity by building on the starting theme. Eventually, it becomes something completely different than what it felt at the start, and it ends up in a very different place.

So, like starting a company, getting married, or having kids, crossing an ocean is the continuity of life. It's not crossing a chasm, it's just sailing the next mile, and the next. The most serious risk is not in the passage, it's not leaving the safety of the marina.