Why “Sailing, Simplicity, and the Pursuit of Happiness?”

Sailing, Simplicity, and the Pursuit of Happiness plays on one of the most famous phrases in the Declaration of Independence that states that three of our unalienable rights are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Through my journey and time spent writing on this blog, I hope to examine my life dreams within the context of American culture and the so-called “American Dream.”

My original goal was to fill the blog with discussions on Voluntary Simplicity and how current cultural issues play a role in a sense of liberty or happiness. But, if you have been following, then you know that I’ve taken a deeper interest in only sharing my experiences with you and how I feel about them, nothing else involved. I regret that I haven’t even mentioned “Voluntary Simplicity,” a topic that interests me.

Here is a brief history on Voluntary Simplicity:

Voluntary Simplicity is a lifestyle that is characterized by living with only the essentials. The various ways people determine the essentials in a simple lifestyle differ as much as the people themselves. It is not how much money you have, earn, or spend, but rather a values-based lifestyle that cannot be measured by any standard metric. People choose Voluntary Simplicity for all sorts of reasons including; spirituality, environmental protection, freeing time to enjoy life, social justice, conservation, reducing consumption, and personal taste.

“We can describe voluntary simplicity as a manner of living that is outwardly more simple and inwardly more rich, a way of being in which our most authentic and alive self is brought into direct and conscious contact with living.” Duane Elgin

The name “Voluntary Simplicity” was first given to this lifestyle in a book written by Richard Gregg in the mid 1930s. Almost fifty years later, Duane Elgin published his book by the same title, which became highly influential and a main source about Voluntary Simplicity.

I wrote to Mr. Elgin last fall and asked if I could speak to him for a few minutes, but he said he didn’t have the time. So, instead, I’ve turned to a few of the many other great models to learn about this way of living such as; St. Francis, Budda, Thoreau, Abby, or the Nearings to name a few.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.” Henry David Thoreau

Where I sailed from there is a friendly face on every corner. While stopped in Gloucester I saw a used condom on every street corner. In New Jersey there was a hair salon on every corner. Here there is a character on every corner. It’s a continuous parade of people dressed in their city life costumes. I see short skirts and tall boots. A pink hair and pierced cheek woman walking a dog on a leash. A dog walking a dog on a leash. A mother walking their child on a leash. A man walking a man on a leash. Another man wears a snake as a shawl.

Pacing up and down the streets of the city, my small town eyes marvel at the spectacle. I have been away from the so-called “real world” for a while.

Will city life drown my spirit?

I can’t afford to fit in here. I don’t have the money, space, or desire to buy tall black boots, short skirts, sleeveless shirts, or fancy phones used as best friends and accessories. So instead, I took the change collecting in the bottom of my coin purse and treated myself to some black fingernail polish. 

Just before Christmas I returned to my hometown in Michigan where all my family gathered for a celebration. “Go Tell in on the Mountain” played from the stereo, snow piled in the yard, and Grandma’s Curry simmered on the stovetop. One by one everyone started arriving. Aunt, uncle, sissy, brother-in-law, nieces, nephew, cuz, mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, friends, and pets. And those that couldn’t be there in reality where there virtually. My mother awaits at the door for each arrival, then whoops and screams when the door opens throwing her arms around the guest. Dad, close by, extends his hand.

“I’m not a kissing person.” He once told me. “But your mother’s entire family is. I remember when I started dating her.  I walked into the room and it sounded like a platoon of men marching through a swamp. Their feet getting stuck in the mud, and as they lift each foot, ‘Smmaaack, smmmmaaaackkkk!’ Everybody kisses…and they kiss on the lips!” But extending his hand doesn’t always work, so he puckers up too. 

We aren’t just a kissing family. We are a laughing family, a sleep-in late family, a loud talking family, and a Pictionary family. Its always late at night when we sit down to play. The game began with Uncle Denny trying to demonstrate “Dirty Dancing” instead of drawing it, and me hollering to him across the table, “This is Pictionary not Charades!” That was the kick off for the competitive spirits and loud voices. This year, Niece Haeli joined the game as a full team member. On her turn, we would all quiet down, turn toward her, and wait to see if after she read the word, she knew what it was. “Yes, I know what it is,” she told me, “I don’t need any help. The timer turned over, and we all began to draw. In just under ten seconds Uncle Denny won the round by identifying correctly Marissa’s masterpiece.

The word was nipple. We all turned to Haeli to see what she had drawn. “Oh,” my mother said, “that must be the baby bottle, and the nipple on top.”

“No!” said Haeli. I could see in her eyes the frustration. Her drawing obviously depicted the word better than Marissa’s. “That’s the fish,” she said pointing to the paper, “and that is the fish food. The fish nibbles the food.” Another round of laughter. Loud laughter.

The highlight of the holiday was baby Dominick, the new addition to the family, and the first boy following my father’s five daughters and granddaughters. Yet he still calls Dominick a “she” instead of a “he.” “It will take some time for me to get used to it,” he said, “I’ve always been surrounded by girls.”

There was a lot to celebrate. Haeli dancing for us, baby Tessa singing her original composition of “Charlie the Santa Clause.” Marissa actually making a dinner. Aunt Angie receiving an award for her business. Grandma in good health. A table full of food. And a well decorated tree. But eventually the tree comes down, and we all return to our own homes.

When I returned to my boat, it looked like the loser in a food fight. There was gull poo everywhere, things I had taken off the deck and stowed in the cabin blocked any attempt to walk in or sit down, and the condensation watered a garden of mold on the cabin walls. But Daphne smelled like boat, and that smells like home. Then the dominoes began to fall and things stopped working. First, the engine, then Dory’s bladder, then my debit card. Now, begins the transition from living simply, in harmony with nature to finding a balance of simple living and city life as I settle in and look for a job, community, and a home.

For those of you who have been following on Facebook, thank you for your support during Dory’s illness and ER visit. He is much, much better now, and currently sunning on the cabin top. If you would like to follow more of my journey, click here or on the Facebook icon on the right join FB and become a fan.

Dory, home from the hospital and with a bandage from his IV.

Apparently everyone has a personal destiny. One where their greatness tangoes in perfect step with meaningful purpose and arrives upon a masterpiece that will be remembered long after the individual is forgotten.

I doubt most of us find our personal destiny. I haven’t found mine yet. It certainly isn’t to sail about, blogging, and taking on jobs here and there. There is something more. A further horizon. A bigger challenge. A more meaningful purpose. So today, in hopes of finding my personal destiny, I began a deeper search.

My first inquiry was with a source that many of us often turn to. It wasn’t elders or teachers or spiritual leaders. My guru was Google. And you know what I learned? You can discover your personal destiny for just $24.99! But since I don’t have $24.99 I’ll keep Googling. 

This article was featured on the front page of a Northern Michigan newspaper.

Click here to read “Follow The Wind.”

I have been exploring other creative sides lately and playing a bit with video making. I have made several and decided to make a short one for this blog. Life Aboard SV Daphne can be found on my SailingSimplicity YouTube channel, or on the side bar of this blog. Let me know what you think!

Teresa

When I was on the high school track team, during warm-ups we did an exercise called “Superman” perhaps because we became super strong from the exercise, or because if we donned a red cape and propped a fan in front of us we would be a flock of Supermans “flying” across the gym floor. Imagine fifty teenagers lying on their belly with arms and legs extended toward the sky and wriggling about like an overturned beetle struggling to right itself. Its supposed to strengthen your back, but I can think of better ways to strengthen my back. I think my back got quite a bit stronger when I weighed my two anchors this morning. But before weighing anchors, I was wriggling like an overturned beetle.

The engine “room” aboard Daphne isn’t a room at all. It isn’t even a crawl space. If it were a crawl space, I would be on my hands and knees changing the oil, but instead I was on my belly, arms stretched out in front of me. One hand holding the bottle of oil, the other holding the funnel. My tummy was supported by the lowest step of the companionway, which left my legs, extending as high into the air as possible to keep me balanced in such a way preventing me from tipping back and spilling the oil down my arm.

After I poured the oil into engine I retrieved my mirror from the head. Again on my belly, with one hand holding the mirror in the small space above the engine, the other hand held the oil fill cap and fished around to find the hole. “Lets see, in the mirror everything is opposite. Port is starboard, and fore is aft…” When I finally closed the cap, I looked back and saw a red cape on my shoulders. “Good,” I thought, “I’ll need that superhuman strength when I weigh the anchors.”

Hurricane Ida sent several days of winds and pelting rain in my direction. I waited for two days, hiding from the elements in my little cabin. On the third day it was forcasted to subside. Worried that two days would turn into too many more, I decided that I would leave the following day, regardless. So, awake at 0500, with the oil changed, boots, bibs, and foul weather jacket on, I began weighing the anchors.   

I arrived in Elizabeth City with plans to stay for a few days. Some of my sailing friends were there, and I was excited for the reunion and the following days that would likely be a three boat convoy. Benji aboard Elizabeth, Chad and Nicole aboard Sabbatical, and Dory and I aboard Daphne. A trio of sailboats rafting up for dinner parties, deciding anchorages via the radio, seeing who would sail more and motor less, and all bound for warmer weather.

The Intercoastal Waterway is to sailing like the Apalachain Trail is to hiking. It’s a great place to start, establish your routines, learn from others, and join a network of fellow wandering sailors that will serve as a dynamic community and safety net. This, however, is not my kind of “sailing” where the canals are so narrow that the only way to make progress is to motor.

As a single-handed sailor, it becomes even less interesting and more of a chore when constant attention at the helm is required. The canals were so narrow and curvy that I couldn’t even step away long enough to go to the bathroom. Instead, I darted down for a second to grab my boom box. Then ran back to the tiller. Re-adjusted my steering and darted down again for an apple, and again to plug in the boom box, and again for a jug of water. Back and forth I darted. My salvation came when I turned on the music, the only time I have listened to music underway. I turned it up loud and danced at the helm for hours. Dory was my audience ad sometimes my dance partner. I am eager to get past this part of the trip, but not without stopping in Elizabeth City, the home of the Rose Buddies. Here is where every woman gets a rose, every sailor gets a ride to the grocery store, and every boat gets free dock space for a night.

Elizabeth City, also known as the “harbor of hospitality” hosts a welcome party for the sailors in the evenings. Wine and cheese. Some northbound folks said that there were at least fifty sailors at the last party. Perhaps our little convoy would grow to be four or five boats. But I wasn’t holding my breath. It was hard enough keeping up with the others and their larger, faster boats, and I didn’t see any other sailors on the waterway who were single-handed sailing a boat as small as mine. 

This post can be found on Ben’s blog at BCCElizabeth.com. I entered the inlet just a few minutes after Ben and experienced it much in the same way. The only exception being that at one point I found myself outside the channel! Seeing an unlit green buoy to my right when staying in “safe water” would mean keeping all greens to the left was a little unnerving. But they are hard to find in the dark. I wanted to write about this experience, but Benji beat me to it and did it so well. Here are his words:

Uncharted Buoys & Moonless Inlet Entries

Published by Ben Eriksen on November 25, 2009 at BCCElizabeth.com