Work, Play, Semantics; Oy Vey!

Sometimes when I meet people and they find out we are planning to live aboard a boat for awhile, especially a sailboat, I am faced with a little bit of eye rolling and generally a comment such as, ‘Sailboats? They are too much work.’.  Then I have to do a little eye rolling of my own because usually these are people who own their own homes, some even bigger than the 3000 or so square feet we have! Boats are a lot of work? Really? I think this is a matter of perspective. Unless you allow your home to literally fall down around you, (or you can afford a staff to do your bidding) homes are much more work than a boat ever will be. I know this to be true because as I sit here gazing at my beautiful home, I realize that it is falling down around me because, HELLO!, it’s too much work!

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house,… And you may ask yourself-Well…How did I get here? (Talking Heads)

I am so convinced that the ‘boats are too much work’ group is dead wrong that I set out to prove this point for you loyal blog readers so that you will be armed with scientific facts. That’s right. Due to the completely valid, evidence-based research I selflessly did just for you, when the day comes that you are faced with the complete blindness of others regarding this subject, you will be prepared to wow them with facts.  Please go easy on the persuading,  however, because sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone. There are already a lot of boats on the water.

Let’s take a look at the data and define terms. The verb ‘ to clean’ here means deep cleaning, including scrubbing stains, ridding the surface of algae or moss, bird poop and the like. “All available time” means these tasks are unending and you could spend your entire life doing them if you have poor boundaries. Also this research is about on-going day to day maintaining of a decent living space, not about major repairs. Everyone knows boats need repairing regularly. So do homes, but no one wants to talk about that.

                    Scientific Data Measuring Amount of Work in Hours

 Task                                                   Big Boat                                 Big Home

Clean kitchen floor                               .0333                                         1
Clean roof (boat deck)                           2                                              5
Clean up after cleaning roof                   0                                              2
because it’s all on the ground now
Scrub bathroom                                   .25                                           1.25
Declutter-put things away                      1                                 all available time
Mow yard                                               0                                              1
Weeding/grooming garden                    0                                 all available time
Paint hull bottom/exterior                       2 days                         at least a week
Paint bathroom, special finish                2                                               8
Deep Clean galley/kitchen                     1                                               4
Organize garage                          what garage?                   all day long, many times
Totals                                      2 days plus a few hours                   22.25 + infinity

I could go on but by the time I had collected all this data the results were clear: If you are a home owner,  you are working too hard.

So much work to keep it looking like this.

So much work to keep it looking like this.

Seriously, though, the word ‘work’ has an interesting meaning in our American culture. It seems to have a negative connotation.  So many people have said to us ‘you have worked so hard on this boat!’. They wonder where we find the energy. I guess that’s true in some way, but the statement creates a bit of cognitive dissonance for me. It feels both true and not true. Actually, most of the time I don’t really feel that the statement is accurate. Then when I look back over the blog, I can see why they make the comment. We certainly have spent a lot of time and completed many tasks. But much of it didn’t feel like “work”. Interesting. What gives?

It seems like in this country one is either ‘working’ or ‘not working’; either ‘working’ or ‘playing’. Why do we tend to be all or nothing about this thing? Is it a problem with the English language or something?  And why is the word ‘work’ such a negative word in general? In popular vernacular, it is equated with ‘labor’ or ‘toil’, two words which certainly don’t bring up much to get excited about. In this country we tend to associate it with making money, which we certainly aren’t with S/V Galapagos.

A scary looking equation if there ever was one.

I prefer the definition of ‘work’ found in the world of Physics: an expenditure of energy toward movement; the transfer of energy from one thing to another. This is a much more neutral term that describes the fact that effort has been put forth and a result has been accomplished. (Yes, I’m being liberal with the definition. Don’t get your science knickers in a twist.)  That is a more appropriate way of describing what has been happening around here. We have expended a crap ton of energy on this boat and that transfer of energy has seen results. That feels true in a way that ‘you’ve really worked hard’ doesn’t always. One might wonder where we find all that energy.

The answer to this question is intangible. While the definition of ‘work’ is to be found in the world of Physics, the energy for that work is to be found in the world of Meta-physics. It has something to do with happiness, joy even. When something is a labor of love or passion, it rarely feels like ‘work’ in the popular sense of the word. The love of the task supplies the energy to put forth into effort on behalf of the goal. When you are putting forth energy into something that gives your life richness and meaning, the energy is put forth in joy, even if some parts of it become frustrating. When your entire being is engaged in a creative process, that’s where happiness lies. The bumps in the road are only part of the grander picture. Life is all shadows and light. How can you have light without shadow? At least in this dimension.

This project started to feel a little like work after awhile.

This project started to feel a little like work after awhile.

The focus of this energy changes over the course of a lifetime. What gives joy in one part of your life changes as life develops through time. For example, the amount of energy we currently put toward this boat is roughly equivalent to the amount of energy we put into our house and garden for many years. People would look at the garden or the interior of the house and say ‘my you certainly work hard on this’ and shake their heads. It never felt like ‘work’ to me. Now, because my energy is focused elsewhere, I try to make my garden simpler to maintain so that I don’t have to ‘work’ so hard on it, and I can’t seem to find the energy to do the minor remodeling projects our home needs.  Literally my ‘heart’ isn’t in it.  I’ll bet you can think of examples like this in your own life.

Moon rising over Useless Bay.

This blog is another example. Most people have no idea the amount of time we put into this blog. It is a significant amount, usually every day.  Some posts take days to finish, some longer, some seem to write themselves. There is the tweaking of the WordPress interface, the up and downloading of photos, the attention to internet security.  All of it could be considered ‘work’, and yet it is so rewarding that most of the time it feels like something akin to play, although that’s not really the most accurate word.  Perhaps in the future we will be finished with blogging and it will begin to feel like ‘work’ to us. That’s when we will stop and turn our attention to whatever else is calling to us through the portal of our hearts. For now, it is a source of great satisfaction and the hours spent writing and publishing posts are hours spent with the joy of purpose.

When you follow your happiness, the work is almost effortless. Frustrating sometimes, yes. Tiring? Many times. Challenging? You bet.  It is only when the heart goes out of the process and the force of will must stand alone that projects begin to feel laborious. So when people say ‘where do you find the energy for all that’, I will just reply: I hold it in my heart. While my house shows the sure signs of neglect all around me.

Time to summon up the force of will and do something about it.

For better or for worse, in work and in play, on the water or on land.

 

Fall on the Way

All is quiet on the home front this week. Fall is rolling in and we’ve had rainstorms with thunder and lightning. Weird. We’ve had a lot of that this year. After recovering from an injury to my shoulder, I’m back to re-creating the garden; getting it easier to care for in anticipation of renting out the house in a couple of years. Going through the garden it is striking how many plants I have. Some I cannot even identify anymore, like this little succulent I’ve had in this pot for about 6 years. I noticed a bloom on it for the first time today. It is pollinated by flies, I remember. If I stop trying to remember it will come to me. Some days I’d kill to get my estrogen back.

An unusual flower, to be sure. A Stapelia, perhaps? From South Africa, I’m pretty sure.

Mike and I have been talking about finding another home for my beloved koi. I bought them when they were little babies and now they are all huge and swim to the edge of the pond to be fed when people approach. Alas, a 4000 gallon pond is a liability when renting a house. Plus, no one would really know how to care for this pond since I designed the system and know all of its quirks. Mike has a vision for a pondless stream that would allow our bird friends to continue to enjoy the water without all the care a pond requires. I have a vision for a firepit next to the stream. Things have to be un-created to make room for new creations.

Migrating Cedar Waxwings

This week a flock of hundreds of migrating Cedar Waxwings descended upon our stream to bathe and play in the water. I managed to creep outside with my camera and watch for awhile. Then, in response to some silent signal, they took flight and were gone. I still remember the sound of their wings in the air, the rush of the wind as they flew past and were gone.

This lovely hardy begonia requires no care at all. It will have a place in the newly created garden. It’s in bloom right now.

Lest you think it’s all about gardens and other land based things, boat business is never far below the surface. We have our eyes on another boat and are crossing our fingers and toes that this one turns out better than the last time our hearts were sprung. This time the current owner contacted us directly to tell us about his boat. We were intrigued. We visited, and were more intrigued. So we tread slowly, carefully, and deliberately, even though we still have our Moonrise. If it works out, you’ll be the first to know.

More Boat Stuff

Here are a couple of photos from our recent trip to Friday Harbor. I’m currently working on my review of the Amazon 44 we went to see.

Leaving Seattle behind.

The Victoria Clipper took the route through Deception Pass to the San Juan Islands. Mike and I have never sailed through this way and this gave us a chance to witness the amazing currents without putting our own boat at risk. Unbelievable. And then the fog…

Deception Pass. The cracks of doom. 

Boiling water and fog at 25 knots! What could possibly go wrong?

Another foggy Deception Pass.

Stay tuned.

 

 

 

Life Review

This week my life flashed before my eyes. Generally when one says that, people respond with “Oh No! Did you have a bad accident? Did you get a terminal diagnosis? Did you have a clairvoyant episode outlining the details of your own death, and if so, do you know the date? (And by the way, can I have that painting I’ve always admired?)” I assure you, hopeful reader, that none of these things is true because none of these things is necessary for me to have my life flash quickly and alarmingly before my very eyes. All that is required is a trip to my attic.

See those dark recesses toward the back? You have no idea how much stuff is there. But I do. This is only one side. The other side is worse, and goes back further.

Long time readers will know that part of our cunning plan is to get rid of most of our stuff and move aboard a sailboat. They will know, as well, that we have been married for 31 years. That we have two adult children, that our home is large and has large grounds. What they might not know is that cloistered in our attic is the considerable remains of that 31 year history. Our house has about 3000 square feet. Our attic covers the entire house. Easily 2/3 of that attic is crammed with boxes big and small. Oy vey. I have spent many hours since this blog’s inception going through ‘things’ in my house and toting them to Goodwill. We have the tax deductions to prove it, thanks be to God. But I have not yet touched the attic. Until now.

Over the years as children have outgrown special toys, graduated to new grades in school, or decided they wanted a room ‘remodel’, things got stuffed into the attic for storage because I’ve lived with kids long enough to know that the minute I get rid of something they intuitively know it and look for it. Likewise when my own mother downsized dramatically, I was the recipient of special things that were hers or my father’s. They currently reside in the attic. Then there are things from my own childhood that I have kept for decades. All in the attic. Mike’s home burned to the ground twice when he was growing up, so he has very little from his childhood. He knows what it’s like to lose everything and then be okay.

Just imagine this, times 2 million.

In our attic is a gazillion dollars worth of Legos, Playmobil, action figures, American Girl dolls and their accouterments, Christmas ornaments, old LP’s, Nancy Drew books, a huge collection of rubber animals (anatomically correct, don’t you know), wedding and baby momentos, dressup clothes… Seems like our kids’ entire childhoods are in that attic, safely tucked away for the grandchildren we may never have. If there were any young children in our lives just now, they would be having an amazing time in our attic if we could get them to put down the Nintendo DS.

Some of you more thrifty and organized readers may be echoing my own superego just about now, giving voice to the general tongue lashing that goes on in my head. You know the words, so sing right along with me:  I am reaping what I sowed because I should have been getting rid of stuff all along and shouldn’t have collected so much stuff to begin with. Sure, you would have a good point because there is a lot of ‘sunk costs’ sitting up there in that space. But, by way of ‘walking a mile in my orthotics’, consider this: I grew up a military child. We moved a couple of times in early childhood, then in kindergarten; then again in grades 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, and 9. We then had three years where I had a stable high school experience, more or less. I’m not complaining, as there are many blessings that come from this kind of upbringing. But I am making the point that the only things that remained stable in our lives were our immediate family, and our stuff. I do not easily get attached to people, but I do get attached to things; the dirty little secret of this vagabond kind of childhood, at least for me.

Home may be where the heart is, but in my upbringing it was defined as where mom hung the portrait of me and my sister over the piano. When the big book cases (which currently grace my family room) were placed, and all the decorator items were in place in the living room, we were ‘home’, for however long it lasted. When the movers brought our stuff to our new digs, it was like Christmas. My brain and my body, and mostly my heart, developed around ‘stuff’ defining our space, and thus defining my feelings of ‘home’. So I guess part of my karmic learning is how to let go of things and still feel whole. I’m getting there but it’s a slow thing.

I’m not quite ready to let go of Andrew’s Playmobil collection. It’s just so cool! And he was so completely adorable with it.

Anyway, this attic has been literally hanging over my head for years. It has been the huge elephant in the middle of the living room of my mind. I knew it was there, but I preferred to walk around it rather than try to tame it.  Caught between a rock and a hard place, I have been wondering if this task of ridding ourselves of the stuff would ever end. And if it never ended, surely we would never get to go sailing down the coast to Mexico and beyond. We would never sail around the U.K. We toyed with the idea of renting out our house furnished, locking up the attic as our continued storage space. But on some level, that just felt like a cop out, like not really making a decision.

So this week Claire and I began with the attic. I pulled down as much stuff as I had space on the garage floor. We threw out a huge bag of trash, sent some stuff to Goodwill, put aside a few things for a friend’s garage sale, and packed up a box of treasures for Kitty down in Texas. Then I stared in horror at the collection of dolls, baby clothes, dress-up costumes and other assorted things that I just don’t have the heart to deal with. All I could think was “there are only about 200 more boxes upstairs”.  The word ‘discouraged’ doesn’t even touch my feelings. Just thinking about it makes me want to go lie down in a dark room with a whiskey and soda. Large, please. This took an entire day, and I was not finished yet because it was only the easy part that we had accomplished. Only about 200 more boxes to go, and countless decisions to make. I walked away from it to prepare dinner.

Goodbye cute little paper giraffe Claire made in the first grade. Goodbye hand decorated photo frame with starfish picture that she won a prize for.

I decided that this was just too much work, both physically and emotionally. There had to be another way. So I waited for the epiphany, and then it came:   What if, instead of having to touch each thing and make the decision to keep or get rid of it, I touched only the things that were most important to me? What if I began to look at things in terms of what I would choose to take to a new house in the future? If I were building my dream home today, what would I take with me? What things give me that comfortable feeling of ‘home’? What things tell me that it is I who live here? If I could choose those things, I would hire an estate agent to come in and have a big estate sale and let go of the rest.

I cannot avoid going through the things in the attic forever. But I can let someone else do all the unpacking; laying things out on tables in an orderly way, then giving me the final say about what I will pull out to keep.  Dear Lord, what a concept! I am almost breathless from the freedom of it. The thought of someone else coming in and doing all that work makes me positively giddy. The sale itself would probably feel about like chopping off an arm, but at least it would be fast and then I could get over it and get on with other things. This idea fills me with a sense of relief that is palpable and that makes me know that it’s the right direction to go. If the feeling is of relief, then the soul has spoken.

This display in our living room is filled with family history from both sides of our family. There is just no way I am getting rid of all of these things. Some, but not all.  We will find a way to store them while we are gone.

As the idea began to take shape, I found that removing the emotional and physical burden of the continual exercise in mourning that is stored in our attic allowed other ideas to take root. Selling the house and buying land we could leave to our children, for instance. I have always wanted to leave land for my children.  Perhaps designing and building a small house on that land in the future, a house that would be easy to keep and that would take us safely into our old age when we are finished with the sailing. Removing the burden of the attic gives me room to dream again.

As I began thinking more about it, I discovered that aside from a select few pieces of furniture,  most of the things that bring me comfort in my home are the decorator items that can easily be packed away. My mother’s Cottage Ware teapot, the piece of art pottery Claire brought me from the Scottish Highlands, the small paintings of our boats, the Native American fetishes I collected in the southwest, my father’s lithograph of the seven mortal sins. Specific stones. The cement maple leaf I made. The block print of Skimmers that Mike and I got when we were first married. These are things that will be put away, waiting to be placed in my next house so I can quickly call it ‘home’.

With the burden of constant purging removed I will be able to enjoy the time I have left in our house, this home we’ve created together, with all of the creative energy of our family’s youth still held firmly in its very bones.  I will be able to focus now on what we will take with us from this place into the bold future, turning my face from what we are leaving behind.

I will likely never make another one of these. It took me a year to perfect the formula to make the cement strong yet thin. The casting is of a maple leaf from the tree in our backyard.