The gift of longing
We're very anxious to get moving. Hoping to have all solved by tomorrow. In the meanwhile we'd like to continue with the questions you had for us. This is a very good one:
What, if anything, do you miss from your previous lives?
In the early process, when we still were in Barcelona preparing Alex's boat, excited to get started and leave our lives on land behind, we kind of blocked ourselves mentally, and directed focus only towards our new goal. Of course, that's what you do when wishing to be successful in whatever endeavor you set out upon. But in the moments of excitement, we in a way failed to see, or neglected to feel the beauty around us in the place where we had spent much time of our lives. We imagined life to become so much better and more free and wonderful, just by cutting the bowlines and disappear somewhere in the horizon. It was of course very relieving, incredibly exciting and we couldn't wait to get as far as possible from home. But slowly we started to realize that our past, and our previous lives and the people that were part of it, were more important molecules of who we were than what we at times wanted to admit.
Our time here in the Caribbean hasn't been easy at all times, I'm sure you know that if you've read this blog. We've had our ups and downs in the relationship as a result of many challenges during the process of selling the old boat and readjusting to a life on the new one. It was hard to go through a total refit of the boat on low budget all the while living on it and both of us were working full time for almost a year. Alex with composite work on yachts in Antigua, me with the blog and all things around it. All that to gain security for us for the future. During this process, far from the security and comfort of "home" and the other people we love, we started to realize what exactly was missing, which parts of our souls that felt empty. Cause let's face it. One human can never have it all at the very same time. There will always be something one could add. Or remove for that matter. Neither of us would want to go through the hard year that we spent in Antigua again, yet we are both very thankful that it came and varnished, as the time taught us so much about ourselves.
In our previous lives, neither Alex nor me have ever been the type of people who've been stuck somewhere for the security or comfort only. We've always lived very dynamic lives. Been traveling a lot and been living all over the world. Worked with all the things that we enjoyed. Just like we do right now, in a way a little different. But what has always been apparent in any of the earlier periods of our separate lives and what lacks here right now and did even more so during the hard year we've been through, are the people and friends that we always had around us in the past. The single hardest thing for us during these years on the seas has definitely been the lack of communication, connection and intimacy with our beloved friends, and family members too.
Of course we've met with new acquaintances on the way, some even led to important and strong friendships and we're very thankful for those. And of course we've been in touch with our families and friends on email and skype and all that. But nothing measures up with real, old, human beings in flesh and bone. People who know you inside out and who loves you for who you are. People you have a history with. Though it occasionally is almost painful to not be near them, there certainly is a beauty in missing someone or something. Nostalgy paints a colorful picture that reveals the true side of who you are. You realize why you miss that special part with someone, or what exactly with those people that are important to you. What makes you feel good, what gives you energy and what has been valuable to you for many years of your life.
I miss the simple things, they are what really matters. At least those are what matters to me, and Alex, and I think to most other human beings. For me, that is to be close to my sisters and hear them laugh. To share a couple bottles of wine, listen to music and talk rubbish with my friends all night long. To see their facial expressions when they're happy, excited or upset. To see my fathers proud countenance as he for once get to have all his five children collected by the dinner table. I miss the people I loved but who've passed away too soon. All these things that we can't pack a small sailboat full with and bring with us around the world, yet the memory of them are burnt into the mind forever. These memories become so clear and vivid once you are thousands of miles away from it all. The memories of our past are the things that gives us smiles and energy on the lonely nights at sea. Memories of people we've shared good times with. People who gave us something of real, profound value: Love, happiness, laughter, genuine moments, and good conversations.
People often ask us "how do you two get along so well, living isolated for such a long time". And yes we still feel comfortable and happy in each others company despite having been in each others face day and night for two long years, and a third year in Bcn before that, but we aren't the only ones for each other and it's good to be aware of that fact. However much one might wish to imagine that when newly in love and the air is carrying the sense of nothing can ever come in between us - there is still always room for more than just your partner. Friends and family are the obvious, and the rooms for those are naturally a bit empty these days.
No complains here at all, we've chosen this and we love what we do and where we are. But I think it is important to sometimes go through moments of longer distance to your normal life, as that will teach you exactly what is of major importance to you, and you will more than ever learn what is not. I see myself a richer and in a way a more complete person now, as I know for sure what my heart is longing for.