What would the prudent sailor do?

How many of you out there experience self doubt? I’m not talking about second-guessing of the milder type; I’m talking about paralyzed by indecisions based on fears and anxiety that like all things in this world only truly exist within our minds? This doubt exists to no one but us, and yet to our own mind it is an all-encompassing concern that eclipses the majority of other things much more important in our lives. In today’s case, the question that is the fulcrum of this debate is “should I stay or should I go”? Contributing to these mal feelings are the thoughts that I knew the tides of this area and the depths of my anchorage. A prudent mariner discovers the swing of the water just as a prudent lover understands the ways of a loved one. Not to say that I am either, mind you, but at least I have a comprehension of good vs. bad. So, a prudent mariner would have understood his precarious nature, being anchored in a very shallow basin subject to a 3’ tidal swing. Whilst he be happily anchored for the time being, he might just have forethought that on the morrow he wishes to depart toward foreign lands far away, and it would be most pleasant indeed if he did not become a temporary fixture of the landscape, forced to wait until the sun and moon freed him from his earthly bonds. Indeed, this prudent mariner would consider the time of highest tide to be at 3:30pm in the full light of day, and he would slip out of the anchorage and place himself in the best position to take advantage of the swing and not be encumbered by thoughts of self-doubt as to the likelihood and consequences of escaping the shallows which so plague deep-bodied sailors. Likely, this mariner would have moved no more than ½ a mile from where I found myself this morning and he would have set off with nary a thought. Unfortunately, I don’t know this fellow of whom I speak, there is only myself who is seldom prudent nor proactive, but I certainly contain all the anxieties to cover up for my lack. Given that I woke at 0630, and low tide is at 0930, and high tide isn’t until 1545, this puts me deep into the ebb tide, and the waters are lower than when I fought myself into this bay. So deep was my apprehension towards moving that I convinced myself that the best course of action was none other than inaction. At the appointed time of high slack tide, I would then follow the recourse of the prudent mariner, having by now deciphered what it is that chap would do. His ostensible actions would be my own, and I would have lost a day to lazing about the boat for my poor choices, and I would be the wiser for it. However I never claim to make sense to myself, and I delight in my capricious nature, so instead of allowing fear to cripple me I decided to challenge it head-on. The noisy mechanical sail is initiated, and the anchor is risen, halleluiah. I creep my way towards the only egress this pond has, and I eagerly watch the depth finder while waiting for the tell-tale deceleration of a grounding. Like a day-trader watching the peaks and valleys for loss or gain, I was affixed to the numerals as they held direct sway over my emotions. Very soon now I would be free or held firm, and my own self to blame either way. As I passed the first sandbar I felt elation that the water had reached 7’ depth, could I perhaps have been wrong on the tides? Then stern consternation told me once again to trust my instruments as the depth decreases to nary a few inches of free water beneath my keel. This drama played out again and again as I slowly traversed over sand waves until my heart, having traveled from my throat to my stomach a decade of times issued a declaration that enough was enough. Like Luke, I would blind myself to distractions and use the force to guide myself to the freedom of the open sea. It was indeed tempting to look at the display to divine my future, but past performance is no indicator of future results. Instead I espied the subtle variations of color in the water attempting to discern the deepest and darkest portions which would be my most likely indicators of freedom. I began to pass the last sand bar and felt that freedom would at least be mine. Alas, but I am mortal and peeked at the indicator which exhibited contradictory evidence. My heart tied in knots in my chest, I looked onward, convinced once again to trust in my experience and accept failure when it comes. Perhaps the proper consideration should have been IF disaster comes, because it didn’t happen. For all my anxiety, for my consideration of scrapping the day to wait for the safer alternative, disaster did not befall me. As I entered the dredged channel I was filled with a giddy excitement that I could only satisfy with some physical activity, so the main is raised. I was even more delighted to see my GPS speed over ground pushing me far in excess of the vessel’s capabilities. In fact I hit a decent record high of 8 kts, my reward for being stalwart in my beliefs that good would prevail over evil. Despite my failings as a prudent mariner, luck would be on my side and I would indeed leave this foreign harbor with the only incident being wholly within my mind. It is possible that I should have a lesson learned from this episode, but which lesson is it? Should I have forethought as to what the prudent mariner would do and then take action to follow his examples, or should I do as I will and hope to luck while accepting the consequence? It is apparent that I cannot control the vagaries of my emotional mind, but I must never let fear be my guide to the point that it controls me. Had I done so, I would still be sitting at anchor, biding my time for action instead of enjoying a fresh breeze and flat seas pushing me ever onward towards my destination.