My Big Squishy Primate Brain

I was up north this past weekend, and I found my imagination captured by boats and sailing and water and islands. I even bought a book about a man and his daughter circumnavigating Lake Superior; I devoured it, reading about Carl Behrend and his friends all living in a sleepy UP town, buying sail boats and fixing them up and cruising around together. So jealous.  

I found myself aching for a future of sailing. I love the craftsmanship of building and maintaining a boat, I love the adventure of traveling by boat - there is something so persistently romantic to me about nautical life. I love it.


And it got me thinking. I could, if I wanted, abandon all my current plans, move up into the UP, get a part time job, live off my savings for a little while, find a cheap sail boat, make some friends and start fixing it up, start learning to sail.  Move onto the boat, travel from port to port, become a nautical nomad.


As I type this, my hear beat rises. It sounds like so much fun. I read the Tiny House Blog everyday, and I'm in love with all the stories of I-sold-all-my-stuff-and-went-out-on-the-road. (Or water.)


I mean really, who wouldn't want to live like this?


And yet.


I get home, and my beautiful life is waiting for me. My work, my community, the not-so-northern cities that I love. My beautiful life that is about something more than personal adventure. My beautiful life that's about service, about other people, about creating radical culture change in the United States.


And then I know what I've know the whole time. Living that life would be denying my calling, and that never ends well. I'll never be a full time nautical nomad, and that is just fine. The life that I do have, the life that I'm building, that's the life that I really want.


I'm just not sure what to tell my big squishy pleasure obsessed primate brain.


He wants a boat.