One Board at a Time
As a little child, we might first be shown how things flow down the river like a stick or a leaf. Then we are given toy ships to play with in the tub. We see we can manipulate the water to move the ship. If we put too heavy a load on the decks, the hull fills with water and the ship sinks.
As we grow older, we are entrusted with a tiny motorized ship we can control along the water. At first, it is attached to the controller like a leash on a dog so it doesn't go too far. As we become more responsible, we get the bigger ship that is free to go as far as the signal will allow. It is exciting and fun to have the new freedom to move the ship fast across the water, doing donuts with a motorized ship, trying not to capsize it.
Then...
When we enter into adulthood, we are handed the helm of a grand vessel. It is beautiful to behold. The sails open to the wind, the decks and bow filled with possibilities. The bow is adorned with a carving in our own image. Some take to the helm with ease and anticipation, while others stand at the water's edge, afraid of the responsibility. It is an adventure not for the faint of heart.
Though we are handed the freedom to be the master of our ship, we are rarely prepared for all the challenges we will encounter. Quick as a blink, the waters test our strength to navigate their surface. Though we control the sails and wheel to decide our direction and speed along the journey, we soon realize the water is full of surprises beyond our command. A system of infinite power beyond the domain of any one entity.
As we learn to read the sea throughout the many passages toward the horizon, and as we dock into the bays of the shore, soon we find the ship also holds many secrets. We didn't build the ship we are given. It is passed down to us by the generations who have passed before us. We discover there are stories among the boards.
The masts are carved and decorated by the sailors who guided the ship through many storms. Bilges hide the treasures lost below the floorboards and forgotten. Ghosts walk among the decks and galley... fallen sailors who walked the planks, the raw truth of years gone by spoken at the mess hall tables. Logbooks filled with dates and memoirs recorded in the darkest hours of the night.
The ship, now our vessel to steer, must be restored and renewed by our own hands... one board at a time. One day, to be passed along to another.
This has such a strong, rhythmic "heartbeat" to it now. It feels honest and grounded, just like your approach to life.
Would you like me to help you draft a short introductory blurb or a "hook" to use when you post this to your Substack?