How to brave the harsh lessons of life
Early on, my engines gave out. My flat sails had lost their wind. My boat was stranded.
But that did not scare me. What scared me was my dream slipping away, inch by inch. My dream of sailing the seas in a boat that I had built. Was I foolish to believe in such a dream? Were such journeys limited to the books I read? Would there be no gust of wind, no lighthouse to guide me?
What will happen tomorrow? The day after? And the day after that?
How will a stranded boat survive? How will I?
But before long, my sails flapped around noisily. It was not a wind of hope, but a storm of fear. The sky darkened. The waters were getting rough. The boat was trembling violently. The boat had been rocky ever since I got in. But I had managed to steady it every time. I never let it capsize.
Through the overwhelming feeling in my heart, I thought to myself, “I will keep my boat upright. I will make it through.”
But, life is seldom so lofty. The storm hit without any mercy. My boat shattered to pieces. I fell into the cold water.
For a second, the world seemed to come to stand still. I saw bubbles break the surface of the water as I slipped deeper.
The sea was powerful. The storm was powerful. Without my boat, how could I stand a chance against them?
The bottomless darkness felt welcoming. All I had to do was close my eyes, stop struggling. I would be one with the darkness. I would be at peace.
My body was acting on its own now; my arms were refusing to give up. They clung on to the impossible dream even as I could see the surface float away from me. My legs struggled against the peaceful darkness and pushed me up. They pushed and pushed till my head broke the surface.
Coughing and thrashing, I tried to hold on to something, anything. It was then that I found a single piece of jagged wood. Wood from my own shattered boat. I held on to it.
It didn’t stop the darkness from enveloping me. But, the battle had begun. How many times I went under, I do not know. But each time, I came up to fight again.
The wood was cutting into my arms. Bleeding me. But through the hurt I endured, I held on. For it was the one thing that kept me from drowning. It was the one thing that kept me sane; even as I drifted out of consciousness.
I opened my eyes to the brightness. I blinked repeatedly. I was lying on a beach. I didn’t know where I was, but my hands immediately reached out for the familiar piece of wood. There were many pieces strewn around, but none of them were mine. My wood had enough power to save me. Did it drift away with the tide? Or, did it become a part of me?
I got up to look across the ocean. I was naive to try and tame the strength of the ocean unprepared. My dream had floated away but not destroyed. It changed; into something bigger and better.
