Life in My Floating Home (Cont'd)
By fall, the rest of the boats come
out of the water, leaving us to the peace and quiet that the
winter brings. Those months have their own charm, a time of
silence and serenity, cozy and warm in our cabins. The most
beautiful time to me is during a snowfall. The only thing
breaking the stark whiteness, interrupting the quiet, are the
ducks that have stayed on, huddled in little groups,
chattering on in strange tones.
Looking back, I am amazed how much this life aboard has
changed me. The boat has become my little cocoon, sheltering
me from stress of Los Angeles life. I have reduced my
possessions again by half, discarding the things that no
longer add value to my life. My wardrobe contains only the
things I actually wear. I no longer have a desire, or the
space, for the latest gadget, another seldom-used appliance
or dust-collecting knickknacks. Now you'll find displayed
a small collection of items I've picked up in my travels,
each one holding special meaning. Typical American
consumerism is rapidly becoming a thing of the past for
me.
My free time is spent differently too. Quiet has become
something I crave. The TV no longer plays for background
noise, the programs seem fake and dull compared to the nature
that surrounds me. Evenings are more likely spent reading or
listening to music. The silence offers me time to think, time
to plan, to learn and to dream.
I have gained an incredible amount of self-sufficiency also.
A boat requires a different type of upkeep than a house.
I've never heard of a house sinking from neglect, but a
boat needs frequent checking for wear and tear. Inevitably,
things deteriorate faster in the salty environment, and with
each new repair to tackle I come out a little more
accomplished from the experience. I have learned how to
repair hoses, change engine oil, install new pumps, rewire
electrical systems and a host of other skills.
I have learned a great deal of patience, accepting that
things will go wrong, that I'll be able to handle the
challenges that come my way and even being able to laugh at
myself in the process. These newfound abilities have spread
to every area of my life.
All in all, this life is one I wouldn't trade for the
world. For the next few years, until it's time to cast
off the lines for different ports, I look forward to each day
at the dock. When that day finally comes, I know it will be a
lot less frightening, having this experience to look back
on.
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