Si, see sea

"translating dreams into reality 
means a lot of practical questions have to be answered.
"

Jimmy Cornell 

In the serene endless blue haze of our 'sea days', my long forgotten dream of crossing the Atlantic, by boat, came true.  Perhaps it wasn't the grandiose, teeth barring, grimace against the elements I had imagined all those years ago.  There was no salty burn and aching muscles from being part of a sailing crew on a small yacht.  But, as I mentally ticked the voyage off my bucket list, I concluded my accomplishment was no less meaningful because it was achieved on board a luxury liner.  It was just less dramatic.

“The sea! the sea! the open sea!, 

The blue, the fresh, the ever free!”

Bryan W. Procter

Even in the lap of luxury, slipping through the calm waters and clear skies, I still experienced some fair weather panicky moments.  The expansiveness was overwhelming.  I tried not to think too hard about being on a 1020ft long ship in 41 million square miles of ocean.  I found it best not to dwell on the insignificance of my existence in the vastness of the Atlantic, the second biggest body of water on a tiny blue planet spinning through a boundless universe.  To avoid being sucked into an agoraphobic vacuum of neurosis, I concentrated on the small routines of daily life and the inner world of the ship.  

For five full days I saw no other signs of life outside of our floating Royal Caribbean Community.  The isolation of the boat reminded me of a long haul flight, where instead of water creating the seclusion, it is 40,000 ft of air.  Although, when I'm trapped in a pressurized tin tube hurtling along at 500 mph, the tight ball of anxiety I hide in the overhead locker is claustrophobia. 

Planet of the Towels

The only thing stashed in our boat locker were towels and every night a different creature emerged in our cabin, alarmingly they were evolving into a much more humanoid form.  One evening, after our usual early dinner dining, I came 'home' to find the cotton ape had donned pajamas and climbed into my bed. 

Five days blurred quickly into a routine of meals and activities.  We became finely honed, hunter gatherers at the buffet, ranging around, scrutinizing the full display of offerings before swooping in and filling a plate with favorite flavors or new dishes.  When English style bacon was introduced at the Windjammer breakfast I knew we were on the home straight to Southampton.  

In an effort to break the bliss, every morning I insisted on an hour of math before we indulged in the water painting class.

In the afternoons, the kids swam between the pool and the hot tub and free fed at the frozen yoghurt stand.  I tried to exercise off the onslaught of desserts that I had finally surrendered to.  I alternated between spinning class, yoga, pilates and running around the open air track on the top deck.  I think it was around day 4 when I finally threw my head back, breathed in the open sky and embraced my tiny place in the world.  In an azure epiphany, I had conquered my anablephobic tendencies and concluded that I needed very little in life to make me happy.  A little love, a slice of back bacon for breakfast and a sprinkle of salt on the wind.

"At sea I learned how little a person needs, not how much.
"  
Robin Lee Graham