We sailed to this place in the middle of the Caribbean Sea a little under nine months ago and we continue to live in this place. No, I mean, really live in this place. St. Thomas is, no doubt, a beautiful place. St. John provides the perfect wood-block painting view east of Vessup Bay when it’s not invisible due to rain. The weather is perfect most of the time. That rain happens or at least threatens almost every day, so it’s hard to get painting projects done, but the interior projects are rocking.
I (James) fill my days with the living necessities of household chores like laundry, groceries, dishes, cat, and, well, living life on a boat in a place that is constantly trying to eat you. The Caribbean is known the world over for its sapphire water and fair weather but the reality is that those aforementioned pleasantries tend to bring all the destructive micro-elements into play all at once and you can’t let your guard down, even for a second. Between the weather and the many species trying to devour our beautiful little boat, even a full time indentured servant like myself isn’t quite enough of a force to keep the living at bay. Don’t get me wrong, I am indentured only to my choices and I reapply those choices every single day with a satisfied sigh and a steaming hot cuppa.
Like I said before, the above-decks projects are going a whole lot slower than I had hoped because of the almost daily rain but I’m jumping on them when I can.
…Like the teak dorade box rebuild and finish.
…And between drenchings I’ve been installing fans.
…Throughout the cabin.
…Building shit!
…and of course, we’ve been rowing, and rowing, and rowing, and rowing!
This time has been all about the Work to maintain our off-the-grid lives. It really is two people and one cat’s worth of working to stay alive against a status-quo that has learned to hate us politically. It’s more than one full-time job to turn that around while, at the same time, surviving and staying afloat in this incredibly expensive and abrasive place. It’s two solid full time jobs to thrive and, maybe, even inspire.
That’s why I (Dena) keep going to work, keep clocking in. As much as just existing here draws from us, we’re not trying to sustain an ongoing reality. We’re preparing for the next world-shattering, alternate-universe-feeling shift in our space and time. We’re maintaining the wellness of our vessel and ourselves while also maintaining an unstuckness, which is its own act of will.
Watching the bank balances shift in our favor is a strong enabler of that willfulness we share. James is approaching eligibility for social security and might even see some return on that investment. I’m getting paid weekly, which translates into meaningful weekly progress on the feeling that this is optional. We’re not stuck. We’re free and our decisions could make life more difficult instead of easier but that’s on us. Sometimes, the littlest gap is the path to self-determination.
While James labors aboard, I labor ashore. It’s by far better than my worst job while still being something I’m coerced into agreeing to, so I’ll never claim that I’m doing what I want to be doing. There’s appreciation for my talents and respect for my idiosyncrasies and that means it’s a good job for me, for now.
I am eating too much, drinking too much, and sleeping too much…or just enough to keep this work thing rolling along. My irritations here are real, though – no safe roads to ride a bicycle on or walk on, a gym open only during my working hours, and a half-hour’s wages (before taxes) for the least expensive lunch that isn’t the hot bar at the grocery store.
Pause – so, that hot bar is occasionally awesome. Most of the time it’s a meat-lover’s fantasy, though, so it’s not to be counted upon.
If the point of these pauses is to be ready for the next bounce, I’d call my status a solid C. Even a little more exercise would get me to a C+ or B-, but honestly? This industry is soul-sucking to a degree that makes me preen a little at being okay at all. To stretch the school metaphor, it’s the equivalent to that time in 1992 when I dropped calculus (as the second highest grade earner in the class) for jazz choir. Yeah, baby, give me jazz choir.
