23 Nov Not Every Day
Not Every Day
Today I struggled with the headliner in the sweltering heat and humidity of the airless cabin as I wondered what in the world was causing my right foot to swell, turning it into a truck tire.
Make no mistake, I’m not complaining. It is simply the price to pay to play at sailing single-handed around the world. But it wasn’t looking to be a good day.
Yet the worst day out here is what compared to the hardships that literally millions suffer daily in abject misery and what must surely feel like in perpetuity? The point is that good and bad are only relative.
This little fellow served as a harsh reminder as to the foolishness of my perceived suffering. I found her huddle in a coil of sopping wet rope while lowering the main last night. She was hurt, obviously frightened and had nowhere, no one, and nothing to turn to. She must have hit a apiece of rigging while fishing in the glare of the spreader lights. She was having a very bad day indeed.
I carefully scooped her up and brought her aft to the comparative safety of the dodger. When I placed her down, she limped and dragged herself to a dry, calm corner and put her head down on her breast. It was a heart-breaking sight seeing her like that. I suspect neither of us expected her to last the night.
At dawn, expecting the worst, I gently stroked her folded wings. Her head came up and turned my way. I came back with a teaspoon of water and she greedily chased the drops over the cabin-top. A couple of minutes later, she was making the rounds in the cockpit and then, then she was gone. Unbeknownst to her, she had made my day.
“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.”
— T. S. Elliot
Not every day is a good day. This is as it should be and thinking otherwise is delusional. Every day, good or bad, is cause for celebration. Out here, everything both great and small is a constant reminder of that.
Follow my tracks in real-time: