Sailing, Mist & lack of Clarity
Lately, our nights have been broken. There is something to having a newborn in your family.
And it is different with having a second one.
But one of the things I (Rianne) enjoy is seeing the nights here in the Netherlands at different times.
Eleanora (a bit more than 2 weeks old now) doesn't have a strict schedule yet with breastfeeding. So we wake up at different times during the night, every night.
We get to see how the night evolves, how it can bring deep darkness with clouds covering the stars, or moonly bright when is a full moon and no cloud insight, or without a moon shimmering stars that light up the sky.
But last night was different.
I haven't seen such a night yet. It was misty, quite early in the night, but not the typical kind of mist, but that dreamy, scary kind.
Do you know what I'm talking about?
Those mists you see in thriller ghost movies, on cemeteries, and when things usually go wrong?
It reminded me of one sail we had in 2017.
My first year sailing, relatively inexperienced, I had no idea what kind of weather conditions to be expected at sea.
It was my very second-night sail, the sky was clear, and we had almost a full moon.
And night sails are something special and one of my favorite things in the world - if the weather is right.
And this time, it was, at least most of the time.
The most remarkable part of these nights is seeing the Milkyway out on the open ocean - something we never get to catch on camera - but it is just magical.
We had little to no waves, beautiful winds of 15-20 knots, and our sailing yacht, Perfect Sense, was gliding through the waves without making any sounds.
The moon lit up our white sails, and I had never seen so many stars or such a Milkyway.
Which honestly is a pebble road in the sky.
We sailed through the night to get into one of those mesmerizing secluded bays in Halkidiki, Greece, in the early morning.
It was one of those sails out of the books, and we felt we were on top of the world, alone in our little bubble with just the two of us.
It was the beginning of autumn, but still pretty warm in Greece, and the sky started lighting up around 5 in the morning.
We were almost at the bay and couldn't wait to drop anchor to get some proper sleep.
In those days when we didn't have kids, we did the night shifts on short crossings together, and with such a perfect night as this one, we didn't get any sleep.
We were too busy spending most of our time on deck looking at the stars and being amazed by our white sails lit up by the moon and how silently we were sliding forwards.
Those were the moments we spent talking about our dreams, how fortunate we are, and how beautiful life and nature is.
Some of my best memories of us as a sailing couple with no kids.
But that memory got a little dreary when the sun was about to come up.
Around 5:30 AM, it was getting brighter at sea, and we could see land ahead. At that moment, a week before, we had an indirect lightning strike and no working instruments. We were sailing on our sights, senses, and maps on our iPhones.
We were excited. It was almost time to drop anchor and have some sleep.
But then we looked back and noticed this white wall from the open sea coming straight at us. It was almost unreal. A mist wall like we had never seen before.
It felt like we were in one of those Jack Sparrow movies.
We thought we could make it in time to the bay and be safe, be able to drop anchor with sight.....but oh boy, we were wrong.
The mist caught up on us in minutes, and we could barely see the lights on our bow.
We realized we had two options, keep on sailing, or drop anchor blindly with only our GPS maps on our phones.
Both options were scary as hell.
And if you know this part of Greece, you also know that there can be surprise rocks in bays that do not appear on any maps.
We still decided to approach the bay.
Slowly we moved closer, the bay wasn't that wide, but still, we couldn't see the sides.
So we focused on our maps on our phones, trusted our GPS, and slowly moved increasingly into the bay.
We didn't know if there would be any other boats around, so we stayed at the back of the bay and figured, being off-season and not coming across any boats at all, if there were other boats, it would only be one.
But still, we decided to be extra cautious.
On the map, it looked like we were inside at the back of the bay and that we could drop anchor.
So we did.
We dropped enough anchor chain, but not too much, as we didn't want to come too close to the sides of the bay.
We set our anchor.
We stayed up for a while, but the mist wasn't going anywhere, and eventually, we gave in to get some sleep.
But we didn't sleep well. We were unsettled because we had no clarity on where we dropped anchor, how closed the sides of the bay would be, and if we would come close to any other boats.
So 2 hours later, we woke up, the mist cleared up.....and finally, we could see where we were.
No other boats, and miles away from land. We were at the end of the bay, or more precisely, at open sea.
This is what clarity does. If you do not have clarity on where you need to go, you can end up at places you never wanted to be, even when, at first sight, they look close enough.
Without clarity, life will lead you instead of you directing your life.
Clarity makes that you are in the driver's seat of your life, and precisely that is what we are doing within our Mentor Program.
We start with knowing your starting point and where the gaps are and help you get absolute clarity on your truest desires. 3 essential steps of lifestyle design.
We will work on breaking down your conditioning, conditioning of:
what is considered normal
what others expect of you
what is defined as success
what is or is not possible
what you can or cannot achieve
Together we look at what you truly desire and how you can get there.
Without having absolute clarity on where you are and where you want to go, chances are you end up in the open sea instead of safely tucked away in a paradise bay.
6 months of guidance and making your desired life a reality
Until the next one!
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