'Tis the Set of the Sails

Jeu de Voiles (Set Sail)
by Max Laigneau

As I write, this painting hangs above my desk.  The scene is that of an open ocean race and serves as a constant reminder to me of several valuable points.  But more of that to come later.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a sailing family.  When someone would foolishly challenge my youngest sister's nautical prowess, she (at age 8) would proudly inform the doubter that she had "squeezed more salt water out of my socks than you've seen in a lifetime." As I grew older, I purchased my first sailboat and dreamed of being the youngest sailor to circumnavigate.  More recently, as an instructor, I have been privileged to share my love of sailing with countless others.

There is something about the self-reliance of sailing that is both character building and addictive.  It is the sailor, his skill and his ship, versus the vast ocean.  Should something go wrong while sailing in the middle of the Pacific, you may as well be the last person on earth because it is unlikely anyone can come to your aid.  The sea has always been a favored metaphor for something that can at one instant be serene and peaceful and at the next tumultuous and terrifying.  Much like life.

There is an unspeakable sense of beauty to the magic of harnessing an often silent, invisible force.  However, invisible though it may be, as any sailor knows, the direction and strength of the wind have a tremendous impact on your route...but not on your destination.  A sailboat can never sail directly into the wind, rather it must tack back and forth across the wind, covering much seemingly unnecessary ground to reach its destination.  Each tack involves arduously adjusting the sails and trim.

 No doubt, an ignorant observer would assume the tacking skipper to be intoxicated, but in fact, a direct point of sail into the wind would result in loss of ground.

Tacking teaches us two powerful lessons without which it is impossible to be successful in life.

First of all, external circumstances such as the wind aren't what dictate your path in life. By definition, you have no control over them.  The wind will blow when it wants, in whatever direction it wants, and at whatever strength it wants.  All that is in your control is how you react to these external forces.  When it gusts you may need to reef your sails (reduce their size), when it shifts you may need to let out or sheet in the sails or adjust your direction of travel, but the entire time you keep your eye on your intended destination and ensure that you harness the changing wind to get you there.

Secondly, you often need to aim in a different direction than you really want to travel. At this point in the year, New Year resolutions are all the rage.  People delight in setting major, life-changing goals for themselves, and they last for all of about two weeks.  The secret to success is to set small bite sized goals along the path to your ultimate goal.  For example, instead of aiming to lose sixty pounds by next January, you might instead aim to walk for ten minutes a day for the next three weeks.  "But that will never lead to me losing sixty pounds!", you might protest.  However, it is a resolution that you stand a chance of keeping, and following that you can set a subsequent goal that will lead you even closer to your final destination.  Tack your way upwind.

With that, I'll leave you with one of my favorite poems:

'Tis The Set Of The Sail

But to every mind there openeth,
A way, and way, and away,
A high soul climbs the highway,
And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth,
A high way and a low,
And every mind decideth,
The way his soul shall go.

One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.

Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox