An Examined Life

Self confidence and insecurity make odd bedfellows, yet I find I live in the tension between them both. I know I have talent, I just worry that no one else thinks so.

For instance, I am a pretty damn good public speaker and writer. Believe me, that was a hell of a lot harder to type (and not delete) than one may think. Aside from the fact that I write and post this blog each weekday morning, I really don’t like the idea of promoting myself. At all. I would like to say it’s because I am modest and humble. But, more likely, I am worried I will be doubted and proven wrong - or worse, have my announcement be met with the sound of crickets.

So if the Peter principle is rising to the level of one’s incompetence - who’s principle is rising to the level of one’s insecurity? That point where I just decide not to take the personal risk because I am afraid.

I write this as I believe I am not alone. I think there is a lot of ‘hidden’ talent that does not come to the fore because of fear - either self manufactured, or tatooed in our heads from years of being wrongly doubted by others.

One summer I organized a family camp and the theme was self expression through art, poetry, and singing. It was a great week of discovery as people found their artistic voices, most for the first time. But, I remember one guy literally losing a night’s sleep because he didn’t want to participate. He only stayed on the island because of his kids. At the end of the week he mustered all his strength and read a poem he had written. Not a dry eye in the house. Here was a successful lawyer who had not believed he could express himself that way.

It can be terribly hard not to let insecurity steal all the blankets, but there is no damn way self confidence should be left shivering in the cold.

I have to admit, I didn’t think it was going to work out. Don’t get me wrong, they were more than capable, it’s just that they weren’t going about it the way I would.

Lisa’s book club, inspired by the book “Half the Sky” about women overcoming oppression around the world, decided to create an event to bring attention to the issues and showcase a number of organizations working with women both locally and around the world.

It was a resounding success, go figure. The event drew hundreds of people and they raised thousands (and thousands) of dollars to support the efforts of the organizations that were part of the day. It was a very proud accomplishment for Lisa and her friends.

I stood more than corrected.

Why is it so hard for me to see that there are different ways to accomplish the same goal? Of course there are. But, from mowing the lawn to building a company I seem to believe I have the key to the RIGHT way. So then, how come so many are successful doing it WRONG?

I often disregard all the other options when it comes to skinning cats. Where does this sense of omni-expertise come from? Why do I insist on putting Sinatra’s signature tune in the present tense? Is it because I am Type A? Is it because I am male?

Lisa is my guru here. She has the patience to let me go in the wrong direction, even when I think I am right. ‘you’ll figure it out’ she’ll say. And now, after skillfully disregarding my unsolicited advice, she has shown again that there are mulitple paths that can lead to the same destination.

“It’s better to hold on to people like this, than like this” he said opening then closing his hand. My boss was making a point about how to keep good staff. His thesis was that it was better for business if an employee knew they could leave anytime, but instead chose to stay - rather than feeling they had no other option.

In the years since what has stuck with me is the image of the extended hand versus the clenched fist.

I’ve told this story often, so stop me if you’ve heard it: the method bushmen use to catch monkeys is very simple. They bury a long, narrow necked bottle in the ground, putting food at the bottom. The monkey comes, reaches in and grabs the food, but in so doing makes a fist that can’t fit up through the neck of the bottle. Their monkey brain won’t allow them to let go of the food, so there they sit - as if caught in a trap - an easy catch for the bushman.

I hold on to a lot of things that make me easy prey. My pride, my ego, my sense of ownership of things, people, even myself. I can use ideas like rights or fairness or beliefs to justify my position - but those are often simply an excuse for not wanting to let go.

I live my life presumptively - I have strong assumptions of the way things should go. I don’t really like deviations from the norm. My knuckles aren’t actually white, but I do hold fast.

It feels counter intuitive but, I think, the tighter the grip, the worse off I am. Uncurling and extending my fingers doesn’t necessarily mean that I lose anything. It may, in fact, mean just the opposite.

As I am standing at the airport anticipating the arrival of Aidan and the reuniting of our family after a year apart, I get an email from a friend letting everyone know her husband has finally passed away from his battle with Lung Cancer. Welcoming home, saying goodbye, beginning and ending, joy and sorrow - opposite sides of the same life.

I was with my brother in law when he died. The only thing I could compare the experience to was being at the birth of my sons. I remember thinking at the time that we certainly do not live on a linear continuum.

Even death is all about life. It’s a stark reminder that it’s not about later, it’s about now. Right now. It’s what or who comes first, and the conscious or unconscious choices I make and the legacy that results from them.

The loss of Michael will be palpable in the community, but as the grief passes, the way he lived his life will be what I will remember. He was a very good man. He loved his family, was a true friend, and invested himself in his neighbourhood. He definitely left too early - but in the time he had, he made the most of it.

Rather than feeling today that life is fragile, I am reminded of its fullness. Within the heartache of that email yesterday was my friend’s encouragement to be inspired to make the most of life while we have it to live. Amen.

My mother was a witch. She told us so. A ‘good’ witch, but witch nonetheless. We saw her crystal ball, but never her broom which evidently she kept in a secret place. She also believed in faeries and leprechauns. When we were scared she would say “don’t worry, I put all the monsters on the bus to North Vancouver”.

In public, she was my greatest defender. I remember chucking a kids tricycle off the end of the Pier that I found in the park. When the dad came by the house to get mad she said “serves your kid right for leaving their things about”. Then the door closed, and it was a different matter.

The WORST thing she could say to me was “I am disappointed with you”. From a very early age I understood the importance of being on the right side of mum. She was totally fine with all sorts of mischief and accidents - “never matter let it went” she would say. However, harming someone or something else was totally out of bounds. The consequences were swift and sure, usually ending with a very warm and red cheek - of either variety.

If the weather turned nice, she’d pull us from school for a day at the zoo or the beach. Mum didn’t care too much about grades or report cards. When the principal phoned home to discuss one of my many indiscretions it seemed she went through the motions and said what she was supposed to - but I could tell her heart wasn’t really in it. Much of what the school cared about seemed trivial to her.

Her chief goal was to foster our self confidence and fuel our imaginations. She sang us songs, read us stories ( I can only think of Winnie the Pooh with her voice), played us music - everything from the Tijuana Brass to Peer Gynt, took us to plays, pantomimes and the ballet. She loved all our art and craft projects. She was often the sole, patient audience member for our made up skits and dance productions - standing ‘O’s” every time.

All that said, Mum was far from perfect. She dealt with her own monsters. It was hard as a kid to watch the person you most admire in the world become just the opposite. But, even those she finally got on that bus to North Van. Her personal struggles added to my learning that it’s often not our strength that will get us through, but our humility.

I miss my mum. A lot. She’d love to see how her grandsons have grown up. She’d be telling them the same lies she told me. And like me, they’d believe every word.

I love adventure. Or at least I thought I did. In my experience adventure begins when the plan ends. It’s about the unpredictable and thinking in the moment. This is where I’m becoming concerned. I realize I am becoming a planner. Whether it’s a day hike or a longer trip - I am planning ahead, I want to know the end before I’ve even begun.

I know, I know. Planning is a good, responsible thing. I totally agree. The thing is though, some of the best stories I have from my life are from times when the end wasn’t clear, but it didn’t stop me from jumping in.

From acting on stage, to sailing oceans, to camping alone in Africa, to selling software to big companies - I’ve often stepped into situations with no idea how they are going to turn out.

That said, I like the paradox of being prepared for what I don’t know. Rather than having a complete set of instructions it’s about having a tool box of knowledge, experience, and wits. How much of that will atrophy if I am content to go where I have gone before?

I vividly remember the rush of driving by myself in Africa and crossing 10km of deep sand. All the time I was battling the doubt and worry in my head while managing gears, gas and steering. It was awesome. Now, I should also mention that many other trucks were cruising by me as if it was a normal sunday drive for them. Adventure is relative.

This sounds oh so mid life crisis -ish. Maybe. But, I’d rather think of it as just a little reminder that uncertainty is good thing. The benefits are many. The sense of achievement that comes from trying something new. The realization that I can actually ‘Macgyver’ my own life. The adrenalin of living in the moment. Yup, I do love an adventure.

I don’t like going for Chinese Food on a friday night. Such a huge menu. After an already full week of deciding things, I’m done.

However, ethnic food options aside, I generally like being a decision maker. I don’t always make the right ones, in fact I am wrong a lot, but I’ll take a wrong choice over no choice any day. I way prefer a calculated risk over the inertia of indecision.

Pretty much every choice I make is with incomplete information - the question is how much is enough? If there is a decision to make, what am I waiting for? If it’s not physically endangering or morally compromising - what’s the cost of being wrong?

My life is far from binary. My absolutes are relative, black and white blended to grey. I find it hard to be definitive. My questions far out number my answers. And so, It is in that environment that I make my choices, and live by them.

And, make them I do. If I don’t - I stand still. I don’t grow, I don’t learn.

Still, it’s not about throwing darts at a board, it’s about exercising the muscle of discernment. It’s more about wisdom than it is knowledge. In my experience, wisdom and discernment are hard won and I have a more than a few battle scars and burned bridges to prove it.

Leaders don’t make decisions as much as decisions make leaders. I am attracted to, and will more likely follow, those who are decisive. In fact, I find they make great dinner companions on friday nights.

My older sister is just that, older. Today is her birthday. It also happens to be her wedding anniversary. Our mother wouldn’t give her blessing to the marriage, so Liz waited until her 21st birthday when she could make her own choice. These 42 years later, clearly she made the right call.

Besides being consistent in matrimony, Liz has also maintained her status as a card carrying hippie. Her proudest possession is her bus ticket to Haight & Ashbury. I remember as a little kid making scented candles in their basement suite in Kitsilano. Now she’s weaving baskets on Saltspring Island. Same creative shit, much different day.

I was 7 or 8 and playing in the ditch on our street. Liz called from the house wondering if I wanted to go for a plane ride. I’d never been on a plane. Next thing, we flew to Seattle for the day. I vividly remember walking the World’s Fair grounds and going to the zoo with her. A number of years later she would take me to my first rock concert - Chicago Transit Authority. After the show we went to the club where my brother in law Mike was playing in a band. That was the coolest night of
my then young life.

Through my teen years she and Mike were given the responsibility of my birthday parties. They’d load up their funky Chevrolet with me and my friends and we’d head to Gastown for the Spaghetti Factory and Wax Museum. However, the best part of the event was the rusted through floor boards in the car - in the backseat we’d hold our feet up and watch the road go by under us.

Lizanne has always been there for me. Both in person and through example. Her home was safe haven when there was trouble in the family. She was the leader of our sibling pack as we lived with and then cared for our aging parents. I have watched and learned as she has deftly navigated marriage, parenting, and growing up. I don’t think I could have asked for anything more from an older sister.

Thanks Liz. Happy Birthday, and Happy Anniversary to you and, your oh so patient husband, Mike.

“Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric.” - Bertrand Russell.

I am not sure what normal is, I just know I don’t want to be it. I think of normal as the road most traveled. It’s the well worn path. The race to the middle. Normal seems like somebody else’s idea of who I should be.

There is great temptation to follow the template of the majority. I have often envied the lives of those who have fashioned a simple, predictable, day to day existence. Don’t get me wrong, I am not criticizing the choice of people to be normal, or even follow the lead of others. I’m just saying that I can’t, or I really don’t like it when I find myself doing so.

Now, It’s not just different for different sake. I have this sense that it’s away from the zones of comfort where the ideas are - creativity, curiousity, and opinion are fostered by blazing the trail rather than just wandering the path. As a friend once said “it’s where the magic happens”. Ideas are the engine - or at least the jet fuel - for life.

For all this bold talk, I chicken out all the time. I will venture into the territory of the different, the eccentric, the explorer - but then beat a hasty retreat when the going gets tough. The thing is, besides being less traveled, that road is fraught with peril - financial insecurity, risk, potential for ridicule and criticism - and not being invited to parties.

I’ll pal around with the artists, the actors, the poets, the film makers, the start ups - because I like thinking that I am one of them - but alas, I’m not really. I’m a two car guy living in the suburbs. I’m a day tripper, not a lifer, in the world of original.

I’m not going to give up though. If I want to heed Gandhi’s words and be the change I want to see in the world, it’s not going to happen if I take my lead from popular opinion.

Class of 2011-2012, Professional crew, teachers, administrators, Sorlandet Foundation members, parents, friends, honored guests.

I am honored to be asked to speak, and on behalf of the parents - thank you to the Class Afloat teachers, pro crew, and administrators for all you’ve done this year with our kids, and crew - we couldn’t be more proud of all that you have accomplished.

This marks the 4th year end ceremony my family has been a part of since we watched our eldest son Sam sail into Victoria, BC. Our son Patrick sailed into Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, and then he graduated after a semester on the Concordia the following year. And now here we are in Malta. So, I know a bit about the impact that Class Afloat can have - on a crew member, on a family, and on a bank account.

Both my father, and his father before him, were Ship’s Captains. So, when I was 18, it was my turn to go to sea. I was joining a gaff rigged ketch in the Dominican Republic and sailing to the Virgin Islands where we were stationed. Ultimately we sailed as far down as Grenada.

It was my first time off the continent. The plan was to meet the crew at a hotel in Santo Domingo and take it from there. I arrived at this very fancy hotel, asked at the desk, and discovered there was no one there, nor did they have any message for me. I had to stay, so I paid for a night with half the money I had brought. I did not know what I was going to do.

I was up in my room and feeling really sorry for myself when the phone rang. It was my dad. “Dad!”. “Hello son, I just thought I’d call and see how you’re getting on”. “Dad, there’s no one here, I have no idea what to do, and I am so scared!” I blubbered into the phone. There was a pause, then he said “That’s all right son, you’ll do fine”. And he hung up.

You see there were three things my dad didn’t like: emotion, talking on the phone, and paying for long distance.

I just stared at the phone. I didn’t even occur to me to call back. I was angry for years. However, I have come to realize that in that moment, I learned to take responsibility.

I have to say, if it was Aidan in that hotel room, and me on the other end - it may have gone differently. I would have called the Manager, given him my credit card, to cover any expenses- then start making calls and solving Aidan’s problem.

The thing is, by doing that I’d have taken the responsibility away from Aidan. In my experience, I had to take responsibility, I had to figure it out.

I believe the two most important things you learned this year are:

1. to pay attention
2. to take responsibility

Consider these past 8 months and how much attention you’ve had to pay in order to thrive. Remember when you were told you needed to learn all the lines on the ship? What about just learning to do up your harness and going aloft for the first time. Following a course at helm, or all the duties you performed on Watch.

When you got on the wrong side of the pro crew - what was the reason most often? - I figure it was some form or another of not paying attention.

But it goes beyond just listening and learning. It’s about being awake and aware of all that is around you. Because of these past eight months on board you see different, hear different, feel different, and certainly smell different!

Most of all you think different. Out of both necessity and desire you have gained the skill of paying attention.

Hold on to it.

As the ship left the dock at Kristiansand and Dakar, the ties were cut - for many it was for the first time. No matter how priviledged or protective your background, or if your mum packed your stuff, now it was up to you. I know that for a lot of you that came as quite a shock. Taking responsibility is hard. But then, there you were at the wheel in the middle of the night, or given the task of bringing the ship into port. You were serving meals to the Captain. You were leading your watch groups, and galley. You were told to raise sail, or lower the tenders. You were given increasing amounts of responsibility - some of which you succeeded at, and at other times failed.

A word on failure. Who this year failed at something you were trying? Good for you! Class Afloat is a great way to learn how to fail well. Remember when Aidan dropped the upper topsail yard? Well, I told that story to his brothers, both of whom had been on the ship. They simply nodded their heads and smiled. Failure from trying is not a bad thing, it is an essential part of growing up.

I am sure all of the adults here have plenty of stories of how that have failed their way to success.

Parents, as our kids have learned to take responsibility for themselves, our job is to fuel that flame by getting the hell out of the way.

The hardest job of parenting is letting go. Our task now is, to borrow a tall ship term, to become ’slackers’. When bracing a yard to take full advantage of the wind, the hard job is to haul it in - our kids job - while the other side let’s out the line or ’slackens’ the brace slowly and controlled - the parents job. We don’t just let go all at once - allowing the yard to swing wildly - more as they pull and take the responsibility we respond by loosening our grip and following their lead.

These last eight months have been huge. You’ve crossed the Atlantic twice. You’ve sailed over 16,000 nautical miles. You’ve hit over 20 different ports. You’ve sailed through 57 knot winds. You’ve seen all manner of whales and dolphins. You’ve danced in the caribbean and rode camels in the desert. You’ve engaged with communities on three continents. Amazing. However, I want you to know you haven’t just been ticking things off a ‘bucket list’. You haven’t just been there or done that - even if you did buy the t-shirt.

Our priviledged culture is obsessed with the accumulation of things and experiences.

I had a guy ask me once “how many countries have you been to?”

Often the getting is more fun than the having. For the last 8 months you have been acquiring. Now that you are back - it’s time to take responsibility for all that you have. It’s time to pay attention to how it’s going to impact your life going forward.

What will be the cumulative effect of your experience on Class Afloat?

There are two ways to approach life - you can make it happen, or you can let it happen to you. All that were on the Sorlandet - you have been making life happen.
Don’t. Stop. Now.

You chose to step forward and say ‘yes’ when you boarded the ship. Parents, you chose to step forward and say ‘yes’ when you let your son/daughter go.

Stepping forward and saying ‘yes’ to all the challenges and triumphs of the last eight months means you have been leaning into your life.

I want everyone to lean forward, and sit on the edge of the pew. Lean in. This is the posture of a Sorlandet crew member.

Lean in when you go home and things become ‘easy’
Lean in when you go home and things become ‘hard’
Lean in and continue to try new things and think in new ways
Lean in and risk and be willing to fail
Lean in and understand the importance of relationships - with your family & friends
Lean in and continue to reach out to new communities- be they be in your neighbourhood or across the world
Lean in and pay attention with the new way you have learned to use your senses
Lean in and take responsibility for your life and the course you chartl
Lean in and be your own change

Sitting in that hotel room in the Dominican Republic I was scared and feeling very sorry for myself. Life was definitely happening to me.
The next morning I woke up, made a plan and eventually found my way to my ship. I made life happen, and as my dad so prophetically told me: I did fine.

And to you crew of 2011 - 12, I am more than certain that you will too.

Thank you.