Big Boat Wisdom Part II: How to Let Go

It’s the start of high tourist season here in Duluth. Everyone wants to be by Minnesota’s freshwater sea—Lake Superior—licking ice cream cones and scouring the shore for the agates that always seem to elude me.

People walk, bike, jog, and often hurry along the Lake Walk to get to Canal Park in time to see the big ships come and go.

Last week, I wrote about my first experience watching a ship come home.

This week, what captured my interest was a boat heading out. Letting go of the safe harbor to navigate whatever smooth sailing or wild adventures might be ahead.

One of my favorite mantras—it can all be true—seemed only too apt.

Harbors keep boats safe, especially when who knows what kind of weather might blow in at any minute. Harbors welcome home, and there can be no bigger sense of relief than that.

And, boats are created to be Out There, floating, flying, meeting the waves big and small.

So, too, are we designed to both roam and rest, to head out and nest. I suppose a definition of wisdom could be knowing which to do when.

All those thoughts rolled through me as I stood amongst the crowd, gaping at the navigational feat unfolding in front of me.

To leave the harbor, the long boats have to execute a 90-degree turn. It reminded me of the game Operation—too close to the shore (with its docks and buildings) and game over.

Before the big ship passed by, smaller boats zipped through the canal. Some things dart into our lives for a mere moment. Others arrive to stay.

Of course, sometimes, the things we want to stay are the very things heading out toward the horizon, away, away.

Or we can’t wait for the big things hulking in our space to clear out, but there it sits, growing more and more barnacled every minute.

What became especially clear to me as I stood and watched was that if something Big is moving through, it needs space . . . and time.

Pause. Breathe. Sit. Let go.

This sounds easy. It is not. Sometimes, it’s a spiritual feat worthy of the greatest saint with all kinds of ways it could go wrong.

So we do it again, and again: pause, breathe, sit, and maybe, just maybe, at some point we can wave and wish a bon voyage?

We all live amongst giant energies. What courage and wisdom it takes to work with them.

To hold on.

To let go.

And see where the Big Wild Wonder will take us next.