Wings spread, Conversations reaches again for the open sea. Her long lines run down the last of the shallow, reef strewn waters, seeking the safety and freedom of the deep, open sea. Ahead, lays Darwin. Behind us, lays Torres Strait. Nothing can stop her now. For the last 110 miles, for a day and a night, she twisted and turned her way through Torres Strait, crossing the Great Barrier Reef. This is the only route to Darwin, in north Australia, It is the only way to pass from the Coral Sea to the
Timour Sea. But the way is tortured. Already this year, two other ocean roaming sailboats sailed their last moments in these waters. A single misstep had them sail full speed into the jaws of a coral doom. All over these waters, we see lost boats lying unburied, their backs broken upon a coral killer, their bones picked clean by breaking waves and salvaging locals. "There, by but the grace of God, go I!" I can hear Conversations whispering in relief to herself this morning.
For her crew, by day, we clung to the sheets and sails, urging Conversations forward at the fastest speed possible, hoping in vain to be mostly free of the maze by nightfall. Then, by night, we stared wide eyed into the dark, trying to make sense of blinking lights and dark forms of low islands, trying not to blunder, trying not to loose track, trying to pick our way through. Safe passage requires everyone's diligence to stay out of reach of the razor edged reefs defining the passage route. It requires
all the crew's attention. And, as if coral reefs were not enough, a steady parade of great, bluff bowed steel freighters moving at three times our speed threatened to shoulder us out of our share of safe water. But by dawn, we had her beat. With a ruby sunrise over the north lands of Australia, we passed the last of the reefs, and pointed our happy boat's bow to the open sea.
Now I stand to leeward, looking forward, watching the crew set the genoa to catch the morning's promising breeze. Like Conversations, I am pleased to see the open ocean horizon unbroken ahead to the west. To steady myself against the gently building roll, I reach my hand overhead to grab the back-stay, my bare feet welcoming the secure grip of the teak boards laid on the gently slanting deck beneath. The sun is rising at my back, and even though I have been up most of the night, I am wired. I reflect
with pleasure how far we have come on this trip from San Francisco and how far the crew has come along as sailors. I reflect how glad I am Torres Strait is behind me. Then, unaccountably, I feel a tear rising in my throat. What is this? Why the knife of sadness now at my breast? Then I understand: This is the experience of success when I don't feel worthy of success. This is the experience of success rising in the face of believing I am not worthy of achieving the dream for which I have reached.
It is external reality confronting, contradicting, my internal beliefs. You see, for months this transit of Torres Passage was a threat in my mind. Knowing that it lay between thousands of miles of open South Pacific sailing and reaching home safely with our 'new' boat, it became the place in my imagination where I would fail. I worried about it. I awoke in the night from dreams of running up on the beach at full sail. At some level, I didn't believe I was up to it. But at this moment, I had succeeded
despite my lack of confidence. We were safe on our way, unbelievably, unaccountably. How could this be if I were not capable? I had to either deny reality, or change the story I tell myself.
Success, in contradicting my belief I don't deserve to succeed brings me face to face with this truth: By virtue of being, I have a right to be, and by extension, to succeed, to thrive. I believe this is everyone's truth. We are all good enough. We all have a right to be in this world. When I experience this truth as I did this morning, for me, is the felt sense of self compassion, self love and self acceptance. This is the felt sense that despite all my short comings, my failures, and my weakness,
and my culpability for bad things done and not done, I am in fact worthy. I do have a place in this world. I am worthy of life and love.
From this experience, I want to remember C stands for Compassion, especially self compassion. I want to remember that we ought to hold it always for our selves even when we do not succeed. That our self worth essentially 'is', it does not to be earned or given. It exists beyond anything we might do, or say, or believe. It does not need to be confirmed by success, by recognition, by wealth, or by someone else's love, including god's love. It is mine and yours by birth right. I want to remember, that
whatever we might say to our selves to the contrary, we do deserve to be, to do, to love and to prosper simply as a right of being born. Remember it!
C. Cresswell
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