A ship cannot maintain its vitality if it perpetually delays departure, waiting for perfect conditions that may never come. Most captains who postpone setting sail lose precious momentum and fuel. Yet there exists a different kind of pause - dropping anchor to study the charts while your navigation systems recalibrate. This isn't truly delaying your voyage; you're engaging the deeper currents of maritime wisdom. When you understand these hidden tides, you won't condemn yourself for reading the weather, knowing that optimal routes often reveal themselves during these strategic harboring periods.
Studying the stars, mending the rigging, testing the depths, and catching favorable winds - these might appear as idle harbor activities to landlubbers. But seasoned mariners recognize a different truth. They see you're honoring the ancient rhythms of seafaring, allowing your internal compass to align with true north. Purposeless anchoring depletes your provisions and morale, while strategic harboring replenishes your capacity to navigate challenging waters ahead.
I've been discovering something in these long months at sea that's shifting how I understand this work. Those times when I step away from the charts and navigation - I used to carry such weight about it, as though I was abandoning my duties or running from the helm.
But I'm beginning to see it differently now. Sometimes when I'm just sanding the old teak rails, feeling the grain beneath my fingers, or watching the horizon while mending a worn line - that's when the way forward reveals itself. It's as if some deeper current within needed that stillness to find its bearing.
I can't claim to fully grasp this mystery, but I'm learning to trust it. Perhaps those moments aren't taking energy away from my soul, but rather conjuring it up from depths I didn't know existed. The sea has her own wisdom about when to push forward and when to drift.
I write this for myself, and for any captain who might one day read these pages and wonder if their need for stillness makes them less worthy of command. It doesn't. Maybe it makes us more so.