Calibrating Our Compass

July 6: I will only be posting new entries every few days from now on. Although I enjoy these times of reflection, I’m finding this process a bit distracting from the journey—and the people—at hand. Add to this, the spottiness of the internet connections in what is mostly wilderness, and I’m getting the message I simply need to “be.”

Ahhh….I feel better already. You cannot imagine the beauty that surrounds me as I write. In this moment, the ferry has stopped its forward movement and is turning on an invisible axis. The sun is shining, the water peaceful and glistening, mountains high, covered in mist. Honestly, I do not know why we are turning. I don’t know why we don’t seem to be going anywhere. And so, I have to wonder, what will happen next?

Later…still spinning, and guess what? According to the rumor circulating the cabin, the ferry’s compass was “off,” and now they have two compass experts on board, calibrating it. To do this, the boat must turn in place for what turns out to be approximately 45 minutes.  Strange, but I have to say, we couldn’t be in a better place to spin. We’re just outside Juneau’s harbor and for the first time in days, the sun is out, bright and shining. Richard sets his camera on a mini-tripod and turns on the video, recording 360 degrees of our perfect circle. While we’re recording, we talk to a young woman who lives in Anchorage and works for the National Audubon Society as a landscape ecologist, mapping “hot spots” of wildlife diversity all over the country. She is doing good work in the world.

Back in the cabin, we rejoin our seatmates—a beautiful young couple with whom we’ve become instant friends. They are in a long distance relationship and are wondering where it’s going, where they are going. They spent their time as the ship turned, recalibrating their relationship compass as they pondered these questions. Richard and I shared our own experience of living 2500 miles apart for our first three and a half years. We hope it helped. Looking into their eyes, we could see a purity of spirit and yes, love.

“You’re going to be just fine,” I told them. “Give it time. Eventually you’ll know which direction you need to take.”

“Did one of you have to give up a lot?” the young man asked.

Yes, I told him, I guessed I was the one who gave up the most, leaving my community in Traverse City, Michigan and moving out to Seattle. But then I added, “In the giving up, I gained so much more.”

And so my friends, writing this has caused my own compass to re-calibrate. As much as I enjoy these reflections, I cannot promise you when the next one will be. I’ve decided that the journey-in-the-moment is my priority. Stay tuned, though. You never know what’s going to happen next.