THE BOAT
The night sky begins to break as I approach the harbor. I can feel the ocean breeze pushing at both my back and my front, swirling as it so often does, the smell of salt water lingering as if a taste in the back of my throat. The shoreline is coming into view - fuzzy dots of light sharpening and growing bigger as the in-and-out of the current slowly draws me in.
Other vessels approach, returning from the ocean, seeking the safety of the harbor. Yachts, trolleys, towering sailboats. As if individual dancers in a choreographed routine we have all descended on the bay together, bows dotting the calming water as far as I can see. From my viewpoint on the water the other boats are massive, their sterns inch uncomfortably closer to mine.
It is then that I become painfully aware of the size of my boat.
The pitifully small size of my shallow, one-person row boat.
I look to the bottom of my boat, my outstretched legs nearly reaching the bow. I can see the oars laying at my sides as I scan for signs of danger. Is there water pooling in the bottom? Is the ocean inching its way up and over the sides? No. By comparison I have deemed myself small, but I am safe. My boat is secure.
There’s something about dreams that reveal truths we didn’t even know we were grasping for. Something about the wanderings of the mind at night, that brings light to the questions the heart holds during the day.
That dream graced my sleep over a decade ago, but the truth it revealed has stayed close to my heart ever since.
By comparison I have often deemed myself small, but I have determined to be out on the water anyway.
When we move through the rhythms of our days, looking out at all the impending horizons, we have a tendency to think others have it all figured out. We take stock of our abilities, our place in life, our internal and external resources and by comparison typically find ourselves lacking. We think that others are always confident, always sure of themselves, always aware of the impact and authority that they carry.
But I’ll let you in on a secret…most of us are all alone in a small, one-person boat.
Doubting that you have what it takes to do what life has asked of you? Then you’re probably doing something that matters. Wondering when others will finally realize you are completely unfit to walk the path on which your feet are set? You are likely headed in the right direction.
I doubt we ever really feel like we ‘make it,’ ever really stare at the face in the mirror and think, ‘this one has it all figured out.’ External validation is wonderful. Achievement, success, and pats on the back are all welcome by this girl. But in the deep and quiet recesses of our heart and mind, I question if we ever fully outrun our doubts.
But we get out on the water anyway.
And should you choose to stand up in this life, to rise tall with your head high as you bring all of who you are, you will question the size of your boat. You will look to your right and to your left, and from your viewpoint on the water you will question if others are far more prepared, far more ‘together,’ far more ‘qualified.’ Don’t hate yourself for the questioning, simply view it as an invitation to consider the integrity of your boat. Grab it as an opportunity to stop and breathe and remind yourself of truth.
Is water pooling in the bottom? No. Is the ocean inching its way over the sides? No. Set aside comparison and don’t deem yourself small. Your boat is secure.
You have what it takes. Keep paddling to the shore. The current is with you and you are more than enough, small boat and all.