My Mother’s Womb, My Father’s Love

Sailing to Ensenada

November 9, 2014

A friend of mine once asked me, “What is it about sailing?” She was relatively new to the world of boating and was trying to understand a sailor’s passionate nature.

“It is my mother’s womb.” I said instantly, without thinking.

“Ah!” Her eyes twinkled, intuitively understanding that, for me, it is at once both primal and soothing. And never have I felt that more literally then when I was curled up in the v-berth of Sea Dancer (an Ericson 38′) on our way out of San Diego yesterday.

I could actually hear the water lapping against the hull. The gentle motion lulled me into a deep realxed state; not sleeping, but not quite awake, either. Here I imagined myself back in my mother’s womb, comforted by the warmth of her cocoon.

My passion for sailing isn’t just represented by my mother’s womb but goes far deeper, as it is tied to my father’s love too. I grew up in an era when most fathers were not an active participant in parenting. They were the providers, one step removed and certainly not demonstrative in their affection. This is why, when my father showed his love of all things water, I responded in kind.

He loved sailing and boating, fishing and lobstering, swimming and diving. And he loved sharing it with his family. As a child (and adult) in need of her father’s approval, I found it here and his passion was forever imprinted into my soul.