Living Deliberately

I went sailing with some friends last year. We sailed round Mull on the west coast of Scotland. I wrote this and forgot about it, then stumbled on it today.

“…
The first day was an easy run up the Sound of Mull to Tobermory. The second day was a robust and tiring beat, up wind to an anchorage at Bunessen. Our last day was an all but turnless run past Iona and along the deserted south coast of Mull, back to Oban.

We saw dolphins, seals, sea eagles, proper ships with funnels, Chinooks, long low rainbows, rain that seemed to go upwards, mile high waterfalls and shores we guessed few had walked. It was stunning.

The thing is, we are a feisty bunch. Friendly enough. But we are a little full on. We are not necessarily easy to work or live with.

The first day was uneasy, we appreciated the beauty but wanted to be stretched, our city manners prevailed, we enjoyed it for the sake of it, a day trip.

The second day levelled us, made us ill, made us hungry, soaking wet and dead tired, but we were excited by the dolphins and awed when the sea eagles set off to inspect our boat, each in opposite circles. By its end, it felt like we’d been away for weeks. Our heads had cleared and stress levels ebbed away.

The third day, we told each other impossible stories and, perhaps best of all, enjoyed long and very comfortable silences…”

I ought to do that sort of thing more often, on purpose, deliberately.

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