No Sweat

The enervating heat is breaking, the nights are longer and cooler. The body is more comfortable more often. I tried to acclimate, but a hundred degrees is a hundred degrees. Heatstroke happened, but only once. A more temperate climate beckons, with several months to sail there. New Zealand?

A recent tropical storm dumped a bunch of rain on us, but the eye was far enough west (and heading due north) that I didn’t move Habibi from the slip. I did make her hurricane ready, though, a skill I acquired last year with Hilary and Norma. I stayed on the boat, and we were fine; only a small leak from a port window, easily caulked. Knock wood — one thing so often leads to another, repair- and maintenance-wise. I overfilled the water tanks a few weeks ago, and a small hose under a sink burst free. It’s amazing how quickly one can move if she believes the boat is sinking.

My new dockmate says making mistakes is good for the brain, creating new neural pathways to facilitate learning. “Mistakes are good?” I repeat, and she nods. A difficult concept for my perfectionistic mind to accept, though my kinesiologist mother, an unsung pioneer on the mind-body connection, would agree. 

Just practice, I tell myself. Practice these hard things (talking to someone I’m attracted to, replacing a battery, cleaning the propeller, sailing, surfing, writing). I can practice anything, at least for a little while. A burden lifts from my shoulders: I don’t have to do it ‘right.’ I only have to show up and see what I can do, in this moment in time. 

In between practices, I swim distance, something I’m good at. Something I don’t even have to think about. Bodysurfing is another activity that requires no thought, and brings great joy. How do I forget this? Yes, practice a hard thing. Then rest, recreate, repeat. No sweat.