I am... a sailor (lessons 4)

 Lesson 4: everyone's equal though not the same

This is a difficult lesson to describe. Some of this has to do with Dave's casual way of making people feel at ease with his company, no matter where they came from or what walk of life they followed. He really believed all were equal, and no level of status or experience, or lack of it, changed his way of dealing with people. On the boat, long-distance sailors or super-successful racers were treated equally as those who were sailing for the first time.

 

This is not the way ships are usually run. There is probably no better environment to witness top-down management than on a boat. (Okay, maybe the army.) So, the fact Dave was the way he was, was special. This is also the reason he had endless amount of people who wanted to crew for him.

Yet, there were many who only wanted to sail in good weather, or those who preferred to come for drinks once the boat was tied up. There were those who liked the idea of sailing but always backed out at the last moment. It wasn't a big deal. He never took it personally, but would continue inviting them to come along for a sail, even if they did not share the same enthusiasm he did for being out on water.

Conclusion: stay true to your beliefs

#booksIlove: Ronja, the Robber's Daughter

Title: Ronja, the Robber's Daughter, by Astrid Lindgren
The first time I read the book: 1985

I’ve always loved children’s books. Even as an adult. Ronja, the Robber's Daughter, by Astrid Lindgren was one of the first books I read in German. Astrid Lindgren was probably one of the most famous children’s books authors in all of Europe. I did not know about her until I came to Germany.

Even though she was most known for her character Pippi Longstockings, Ronja really went close to my heart.

A ray of light in autumn darkness

Dear friend from afar
Brings sunshine and good humour
Today's excitement. 

I am... a sailor (lessons 3)

Lesson 3: when handing over any task, you have to let go
 
Dave did not believe in what is now called micro-managing. No matter whether you were an experienced sailor or not, he treated everyone the same. He would give instructions to the person next to him if he needed something done. This led some fair-weather sailors to sit somewhere where Dave couldn't see them. But generally, many found it fun to sail with him because everyone contributed.
 
I was always puzzled why he'd send total beginners off to do tasks without any apparent worry, since sometimes the results were not good. I wondered why he didn't choose someone more capable. He said that as a captain, he wanted everyone to feel they were a part of the crew. There were no guests on his boat.
 
If and when things went wrong, he never blamed the person's competency. If a task was not done correctly, it was because his instructions were not good and not the fault of the other person's skills to execute them.
 
Conclusion: always give clear instructions

I am... a sailor (lessons 1-2)

Sailing was a large part of my life, particularly during my late teens and throughout my 20s. As a captain, Dave influenced my growth since I was born. Even after his death, so much of what I think and do is connected to the lessons he taught me while we sailed.
 
Lesson 1: always keep your sails trimmed
 
While sailing a regatta, speed is equal to how well you keep the boat's sails trimmed. When tacking, it is critical to change tack quickly and trim the sails. Even during pleasure sailing, Dave always ensured the sails were filled with wind and the boat was doing its best. If the jib started luffing, he would either change course or trim the sail.
 
Conclusion: never take your eyes off the sail.
 
Lesson 2: a good captain never shouts when the situation is critical
 
There was a time when we were sitting on the boat at the dock when two sailing boats came into the yacht club at the same time.
 
The first boat came in with a captain and four crew members, all dressed in the same T-shirts and looking very spiffy. A strong crosswind was blowing, making tying up to a slot very difficult. The captain had positioned the crew well, each with an extra fender to help fend off the boat if it got too close to another boat. Everything seemed to be going well when a sudden gust of wind hit the boat and manoeuvred it in the wrong direction.
 
The captain increased the motor speed to counter the wind and barked at the crew to fend off the boat. When things got tricky, he shouted at a crew member standing at the bow to jump onto the wharf and then told the other to throw them a line.
 
It was quite spectacular to see the captain struggling to get the boat under control and the crew jumping around, fending off the boats and getting the boat finally tied up.
 
The other boat only had the captain and one crew member. They came in and saw how tricky the situation was. The captain had to abort the first and second attempts because the wind drove the bow in the wrong direction. Eventually, on the third attempt, he tied up without any problem.

I remember Dave's look of admiration at the captain of the second boat. When questioned why, he responded, "A captain never shouts. The first boat was an embarrassing spectacle, whereas the second was a quiet victory."

Conclusion: aim for quiet victories

#booksIlove: The Wee Free Men

Title: The Wee Free Men, by Terry Pratchett
When I read it for the first time: sometime in the 90s and many times since

Claudia introduced Giui and me to Terry Pratchett. He is a writer of great fantasy, and his sense of humour is contagious. I listen to the audiobook more often than I read because Stephen Briggs, who narrates the book, best captures the craziness of his storyline with an inspiring ease. And the Scottish accents... bliss.

I am... a sailor (part 1)

Dave's idea of pleasure was being on a boat. It did not matter where he was or who he was with; sailing was where he felt most at home. I don't remember sailing much as a small child. When we finally arrived in Montreal, I must have been 7-8 years old, Dave connected up with an old friend, Frank.

Frank had a sailboat but didn't have anyone to sail with. Dave didn't have a boat, but he had all the time (so it with Frank seemed) to sail.  Eventually, Dave brought us kids along as crew. We could always be counted on to act as a willing crew during regattas. There was the Monday regatta series, the Wednesday series, and the weekend regattas. Every yacht club, from the St. Lawrence Yacht Club on the northwest side of Montreal down to the Hudson Yacht Club, would host at least one regatta during the summer season.

Frank and Dave would find adult volunteers to help crew, but the children were also expected to fill in. If you want to learn how to sail, be a crew member on a boat during a regatta. Sailing is generally a leisure sport, with an occasional storm. 
Most sailors are known for being relaxed beings. They keep their cool in all situations and are super cool because of this. Taking part in a regatta is serious business. There's no room for sloppiness. Looking at the crew during a race is a study of focused mind, intentional minimal movement, and awareness of what might come next.

 
Between the regattas, we had times when we went somewhere as a family, as a pleasure sail. We knew St. Louis and the Richelieu River like the back of our hands. We sailed often in Lake Champlain, the Thousand Islands, and Lake Ontario. Somewhere down the line, we went to Grenda and sailed the Grenadines. We went to Florida once (or twice?) and rented a houseboat in the Everglades. 

After D, Dave, and Pat moved to Grenada, sailing became a part of every visit I had. Once I moved to Germany, I spent nearly all my vacation time sailing with them in Europe (Greece, Turkey, France, England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and Denmark), the Grenadines, Venezuela, and the East and West coasts of Canada.

I took a year's sabbatical and sailed with Dave and various changing crews from Scotland down to Gran Canary and then over to Grenada. Sometime later, we sailed from Grenada to Newfoundland with D., Jen, and Dave. I think I got onboard in Bermuda on this trip.

So, that's it, as far as how much sailing played a big part in my life, from childhood until he died. In the next post, I will write about what Dave and sailing taught me about life.

I am.. a KCOner

Sometime in the past, I think it was when Sara and Matthias went to see Coldplay (or Robby Williams?) concert with Beate and Matthias, Julien asked whether I would ever consider going to seeing a concert with Sara and him. I answered with a very non-committal "maybe". My heart wanted to say yes, but my brain said no because of the crowds. On some level, going to a concert was like walking into the lion's den with my fear of crowds. Something that I have nicely avoided at every turn.

So, it is with some surprise that I found my way down to Frankfurt to attend the first KCON festival this last weekend. Not only was it fun, I am excited to try it again. Crowds who meet with excitement to hear their favourite artist perform are not scary at all.

I am... a career coach

Sometimes, a mentor's role can also be the same as a career coach. Sometimes, of course, it is not. The way I see it, if the mentee or coachee comes and leaves within a few months after starting a new job, that's career coaching.

It is especially exciting to work with someone searching for a new career path; finding a new job that aligns with their internal motivations and value system. A career coach helps them overcome their fear of change or pushes them out of the black hole they are stuck in. 

After being a career coach of countless people, my best strategy is to tell and show the coachee they are not alone. Any significant career change is best done together with someone who is not directly affected by your choices but, nevertheless, with someone who can emotionally support you. 

I am... a collector of stories

Some people can remember names or faces. I can do neither. I even switch people's names of those I hold dear (sorry, Daniel... err... Julien). There is no excuse or explanation to brush this inadequacy aside. Still, there is one thing that I'm good at and this is collecting and remembering stories.

I'm sitting at a community table in a lovely café. The two women sitting next to me seem to have only met by chance. Even though they don't know each other well, they enter into an intensely deep conversation after the first 15 minutes.

There is very little chance I will see either woman again, but if I do, I will definitely remember how the one fell in love with her partner (she just met his parents!") and how the other had a terrible father and has always been disappointed by her lovers, so is only focusing on being a good mother. By the end of the conversation the two women get up and hug before going their separate ways. An afternoon well spent.

Of course, most of the stories I collect are not found by listening into private conversations (I swear they were talking loud enough it was impossible not to overhear). I particularly like stories told by relative strangers (e.g. taxi drivers, storekeepers, or museum security guards) or those strangers who become briefly instant friends because of certain circumstances (e.g. long-haul airplane trip or in a crowded doctor's waiting room.) But, like drinking instant coffee, such encounters can leave a bitter after taste once you say goodbye. You have to make sure to wrap up such conversations with consideration and thankfulness. If not, it can be really awkward. 

Then there are the stories told over and over again when friends and family meet. You have to be careful of not repeating them too often. Especially, as one gets older, this is such an embarrassing thing to do. You might catch some people in the room roll their eyes. How mortifying.

It's those stories told in secret that sometimes tear my heart apart. I have yet to find a method to remove the burden of these stories from my soul. I'd love to be able to set them free.

Stories, whether gifts of reminiscing or burden of confessions, are always precious. I try and hold on to the dearly.

#booksIlove: The Classic Fairy Tales

Title: The Classic Fairy Tales, but Iona and Peter Opie
When I read it first: Christmas of 1974

In my teens and early 20s, I became quite obsessed with fairy tales and folk stories. Pat gave me this book for Christmas, and I remember gulping it down so quickly I could barely come up for breaths.   

#booksIlove: Zen Mind, Beginners Mind and Everyday Zen(Love & Work)

Title: Zen Mind, Begginers Mind, by Shunryu Suzuki

When I read it for the first time: late 70s or early 80s and many times afterwards
Title: Everyday Zen (Love & Work), by Charlotte Joko Beck
When I read it for the first time: 1989

I followed Zen Buddhist practices for a decade in my 20s. I went on regular retreats and practiced daily. These two books were lifelines to hold onto during this spiritual journey. Admittedly, holding on to their words was not very Zen, but they comforted me.

Scary man wearing "Gorilla Biker" t-shirt

He empties his nose
On sidewalk while walking dog
Quickly close my eyes.

I am... a dancer

I love to dance. My parents loved to dance, and my (adult) children love to dance. Even though I do not dance around the apartment like I used to, I wonder if old age might be best experienced through dance. Perhaps I should occasionally allow myself the freedom of abandonment through motion.

Nerida and I were reminiscing early this morning about the years we were ballet dancers. There have been years when I do not look back at those times. It is as if it was another life.
Another reincarnation.

I have been talking about that time in my life with friends. It is hard to imagine how much dedication and discipline it took to become a professional dancer. Certainly, watching athletes perform during last month's Paris Olympics, triggered memories. 

The hardest thing to grasp is doing something with such
passion during my late childhood, throughout all my teen years, and then stopping suddenly in my early twenties, at my peak, as it were. 

I know why I chose to quit, which I won't go into here, but part of me regrets not continuing to dance for another few years. Had I done that, I probably would not have gone into engineering, and where would I be today without that?

So, back to the conversation with Nerida. She mentioned how good I was and how when we finished the bar exercises and came into the center exercises, I would smile and shine with such joy. I'd forgotten that feeling and was teary at the reminder of what drove my passion—why dance was/is what I love best. 

#booksIlove: Turn

Title: Turn (the journal of an artist), by Anne Truitt
When I read it first: when it was first published 1986

One of Pat's great gifts was "discovering" writers whose lives were as fascinating as their writing. Anne Truitt was one of those discoveries. She was a sculpturer who wrote beautiful journals.

Browsing through the book this morning made me wonder whether I was the only person Pat knew to who she could send the book. I shared her obsession with such relatively obscure writers or artists. Truitt's meanderings or reflections drew me into her world and left me with wonder.

To my dear friend in need

In the cathedral 
Or a long walk in nature 
My thoughts are with you.

In the midst of my garden

A butterfly bush
With royal purple blossoms 
Nector of the gods.

#booksIlove: Good on the Rocks

Title: God on the Rocks, by Jane Gardam
When I read it: early mid 80s

Jane Gardam was a prolific writer. At 96, she still seems to be alive. She wrote until her mid-80s. Good for her!

Pat loved all of her work. She was an Anglophile, and writers such as Gardam were the clotted cream to her scones.

Construction starts next week

Muffled world outside
Netting in front of windows
Inside a cacoon. 

#booksIlove: A Country Year

Title: A Country Year (Living the Questions), by Sue Hubbell
When I read it: early mid 80s and a few times more

It is hard to describe this book because it threads various storylines throughout, but they are hidden and quietly, slowly explored. The framework is life on a small farm in the Ozarks, Missouri. Sue Hubbell brilliantly explores the changing seasons and her existence over a year.

The book is auspiciously a nature book, but what I found more fascinating is how she manages to share her journey of discovery with the reader. Her marriage of 30 years has broken up, and she has to decide whether she will continue to live on the farm that was a shared existence. She explores whether she can claim or build a new life rather than daily grieve a life that no longer exists.