Is Sailing a Metaphor for Life? (Yes, and Here's How)

Foshay's Creek

I've shared openly about my mental health struggles, the fears, the low self-confidence, the desperate need to be invisible.  I devoured self-help books for years, but never did the homework.  I watched others have fun, go on adventures, enjoy life… while I drifted in circles, a sailboat with a broken compass, no one at the helm and without wind in her sails.

Then I started sailing. And slowly, I realized: I wasn't just learning to handle a boat. I was learning to handle my life. Sailing is a great metaphor for life.

1. Course Corrections

When I retired, I was lost in a world I couldn't find my place in.  Floating mindlessly.  Hopeless circles.

So, I started small.  I went out with Duffy on calm days.  I learned to start the engine.  I learned to catch a mooring and learned to laugh when I missed.  I put up a sail with no wind, just to feel what it was like.

Tiny course adjustments.  Nothing dramatic.

But eventually, those small shifts added up.  One day, I found myself on a full-on sail with a team of three, one at the helm, one working the main and me on the jib, surfing along at speed.  I caught myself grinning and thought, "Wow. We did that."

Course corrections don't have to be huge.  They just have to move you forward.  And sometimes, the smallest turn fills your sails with the most wonderful wind.

2. Storms

We've all had them.

My most recent one came while I was still working, with constant overwhelm, performance anxiety, and depression.  Two sick leaves.  And when I finally retired, I spent the next two years on the couch. (true story.)  The storm had followed me home.

Then I was invited to work on a massive sailing project. It lit something in me. The project itself never launched, too many restrictions, but none of that mattered.  Serving a purpose that aligned with my heart had broken the storm's grip.

The waters are calm now.  I know storms can return.  But somehow, they don't take as much wind out of my sails as they used to.

3. Calm Waters

After a gazillion course corrections and storms, I've finally arrived somewhere I barely recognized before: rest.

Real rest.  Morning stillness.  Watching the sunrise burn the morning shroud of mist off the river, revealing the promise of another day afloat.  Not doing.  Just being.

I've become more resilient. More grateful. More me.

Have you every felt like you were drifting without any wind?

What helped you find your way back?