Cruise Blog #1

I experienced the sunrise Monday morning the way that 70% of the world, geographically speaking, experiences it everyday – on the ocean. Debi and I are on a cruise to celebrate our 30th anniversary and the edge of the sun was just appearing on the eastern horizon at 7:49 as I came up on deck.

From horizon to horizon and for 360 degrees, there was not a speck of land or even another ship to be seen. I asked one of the ship’s officers how far we could see on a day like Monday with unlimited visibility and he told me that edge of the world was about 25 nautical miles away (that’s just shy of 29 statute miles for you landlubbers). As I turned slowly in a circle, I was looking out on almost 2,600 square miles of water that was devoid of human civilization!

Although 3500 people share the Pride with me (the Pride is the name of the ship we are on), I was pretty much alone on the uppermost deck of the ship at that moment. My first thought was that we were a little island of life in a vast and threatening ocean. That was true since I was thinking only of Homo sapiens. A few moments later my perception changed as I thought about life more broadly – we were an island of life in a sea that teems with life of unimaginable fecundity.

Regardless of how I defined life at that moment, it turned out that my life on Monday was vastly different than “normal”. My day was filled with things I find it difficult to incorporate in my everyday life. A healthy breakfast was followed by time to read and think and dream and connect with God. Then came a workout in the gym at the bow of the ship and an unusual two mile run with exactly half of it into a 20-knot wind and the other half of it with that same wind at my back thanks to the sailing ship. Then there was more reading under a completely cloudless sky. I even did some work. Later, I watched the last rim of the sun’s disk disappear into the ocean at 7:18 pm while enjoying a cigar and a glass of bourbon. Interspersed with it all were conversations with Debi about significant matters.

And I was struck also by the things that were absent from my life on Monday. No news. No talk radio and NPR to get myself exposed to both sides of the current political debates. No glancing around the house and stewing about the projects that are left unfinished.

Overall, Monday was a day of less stress and less anxiety combined with more contentment and more connection with people and more involvement with things that really matter. The experience left me wondering if I could turn Monday’s oddity into an everyday reality.