The Good. It doesn't come alone.

I just want to take a moment to say, 'I'm really not sad - or in a bad place'.  The blog posts really might sound like it because maybe when I wrote the mini essays I kind of was.  The thing about shipping (and life, right?) is that intermingled with all the bad is all the good!  Sometimes, when I'm posting photos of ice and dolphins I feel irresponsible for not sharing the other stuff.  The stuff that makes it hard.  While you're reading please just know that I'm an incredibly lucky human who knows it.  

Thanks for leaving me such kind notes.

This little note is in regards to writing about brave enough.  You can read more about why here and read my first mini essay here. 

Brave Enough :: Thriving and Healing

“When you recognize that you will thrive not in spite of your losses and sorrows, but because of them, that you would not have chosen the things that happened in your life, but you are grateful for them, that you will hold the empty bowls eternally in your hands, but you also have the capacity to fill them? The word for that is healing.”

— Cheryl Strayed

It’s hard to say if I’d change anything about my path.

I wanted desperately to go to Waiakea High School and didn’t get a district exemption - so I had to go to my intended school - Hilo High School.  I had gone to Waiakea Elementary and Intermediate.  Thirteen year old Megan was devastated.  

Hilo High School turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I found a really cool group of girlfriends.  Friends that are my family today.  

I started surfing in the mornings before school and fell in love with the water.  To be clear I was always a water baby but the morning surf sessions made me think:  I want to do this always.

I found the canoe Makali’i.  It enraptured me.  I feel in love with navigation.  With the stars.  With the magic of the ocean and more importantly with the magic of getting from point A to point B on the ocean.

I went to Maine Maritime Academy - only because I didn’t know about California Maritime Academy.  Thank God.  I wouldn’t trade my time in Maine for anything.  

I got out of school and couldn’t find a job, so I sailed AB (able bodied seaman).  On a tanker in Alaska.  I learned how to work hard.  How to not complain about being cold because the evidence is in: everyone is cold.  I look back on those days as ‘baby Megan goes to sea’.  They’re precious.  I’m lucky I didn’t get a Third Mate’s gig right away.  Those AB days molded me.

I sailed tankers and reached a breaking point.  I knew I couldn’t go back.  I decided not to return without another gig lined up.  I ended up Chief Mate on a heavy lift.  Hallelujah.  I learned how to learn.  How to learn fast.  How to trust my shipmates.  How to motivate my shipmates.  How to let people be who they’re going to be.  I learned how to float.  I mean really, Hallelujah.

That ship got laid up and I was distraught.  Then I learned what it was like to really not have a job.  It was terrifying.  It built a sense of empathy that I had never even remotely possessed for the unemployed.  

With 300 bucks in my bank account and a mortgage payment due in 2 weeks - I reached out to friends.  I drove two days straight - walked into a brand new union hall and got a ship.  I was flipped.  Totally flipped.  Except, I had a safe place to sleep, my brakes got fixed by people who care, I found a job.  I learned that your people are your people.  Forever.  

I sailed out of the union hall for awhile.  It was okay.  I learned that being a nomad isn’t always all that it’s cracked up to be.  I also learned that it’s not as cheap as you’d imagine.  I had fun.  I travelled to new places.  I’d do it all again in a heartbeat but, it’s also nice to know exactly where your garlic press is.  

I decided to drive to Seattle and try my luck there.  The union hall was deader than a door nail in California.  Seattle wasn’t looking promising.  I was worried.  

After a year of ‘being nomad’ and shipping straight out of the union hall I was drained.  On a whim I sent my resume in to a tug and barge company.

Three days later I had an interview and four days after the interview I was flying to Japan to meet my first tug boat.  

I wouldn’t have chosen any of that but, I’m absurdly grateful for it all.  I’m just going to hold my empty bowl and work on filling it up.  It feels good.  I’m going with: feeling good = healing.  For all intensive purposes I’m thriving.  

After reading Cheryl Strayed's book Brave Enough I wrote responses to the quotes that resonated with me.  You can read more about why here.  

On writing and feelings.

I've been writing lots.  I just haven't been writing here.  

Through the years (can you believe it's been five years?!) I've shared a lot.  Some might even say I've overshared.  

I really don't mind feeling vulnerable here in Nautie Mermate Land.  Recently I've made some changes - I can't say they've been in rapid succession but, changes have occurred.

After having distanced myself from the blog a bit I was feeling pretty blue about it.  I was on a tug and we were hiding out from weather in Tenakee Springs, Alaska.  I put on my rain gear and boots and decided to walk along the beach in the rain while listening to podcasts.  You know, as one does.  

I was taking pictures and picking up rocks and shells and sinking into soaked beach grass when I heard Brené Brown say this,  "I don't share anything until my healing and growth is no longer dependent on the reaction to it".

It was one of those moments where you say, 'uh huh!  yes!  exactly!  that's what I'm doing!'.  She was highlighting the difference between vulnerability and putting it all out there when you're not ready.  I realized I had been unconsciously holding back because I wasn't ready.    

Every one has their own method of 'processing'.  I write.  I journal.  I hermit.  I listen to music.  I make a plan.  I whim and wah about the plan.  I write.  I journal.  I hermit.  I move forward.  Sometimes I stick with the plan sometimes the plan is 'there is no plan'.  I write.  I journal.  I hermit.  I move forward.

This time around, while I was writing, journaling and hermiting I happened across a book by Cheryl Strayed (one of my favorite authors), called Brave Enough.  It's a book of quotes from her writings.  I'm a quote lover.  I'm a quote collector.  I'm a quote scribbler.

Quotes have gotten me through some of my roughest days.  I turn them into mantras.  I share them with friends.  I write them on my hands, books, day planners, fridge.  I share them on the blog, on Facebook, and Instagram.

When I found Brave Enough I highlighted quotes that immediately resonated and I wrote about them.  They turned into these mini essays that were incredibly cathartic.  It turns out - I had all of the feelings.  I had so many feelings I was blowing my own mind.  

We're about to welcome in a New Year and I think I'm ready to start sharing again.

This is all to say, I'm going to attempt to make the blog part of my day to day life again.  I'd like to share some of my 'little brave enough essays'.  I'd like to show you some pictures from the past year that I've been digitally hoarding.  I'd like to share some quotes.  I'd like to talk about the night sky.  

I hope your holidays were restful.  I hope you're feeling inspired.  I hope you're feeling brave enough.

Hot Mess-Ness

I lean towards organized chaos.  That tends to be my modus operandi.  There’s usually a loose plan, I figure out what absolutely needs to happen, and then the rest falls into place (or doesn’t) and I move forward.

Of late, organized chaos has felt more like ‘hot mess’.

It’s been a big mishmash of things.  The heart wrenching loss of the El Faro, my missing purse with requisite shut down credit cards, new IDs and cellphone, a root canal and a lot of work on the homefront.  I’ve been wallowing in my less than organized hot mess-ness.

I like to allow myself to ‘let myself relax’.  I feel like it’s my reward for being on point at work.  Except that at times it feels pathetic.

This week I got an impromptu request to do a boat delivery from Seattle to Alaska.  It felt like horrible timing.  My house is torn apart.  Alaska is cold.  I’m in ‘let myself relax’ mode.  I agreed to go because:  Hello Big Picture!  

I decided that it was such a short trip that I didn’t need to ‘think to hard about packing’.  I read my book, did some laundry, played with the dog, listened to music and, took a bath.

Then I woke up at 0330 and flew around the house like a hot mess.  

I went to sea - for admittedly a short trip - but seriously whats a short trip - you know how these things turn out -7 days turns into 14 - with dishes in my sink and garbage in the trashcan.  

I have to admit that I feel disappointed in myself.  Disappointed that I let myself relax straight into being a hot mess.

Here’s to a safe trip to sea, an attitude adjustment and a clean up when I return.

Here’s also to the best mom ever - don’t worry friends I won’t return to maggots.  Love You Mamikins!  

ps the photo is of my favorite dog LuLu.  I love you all too much to post a picture of my messy kitchen.  You’re Welcome.  Smooches.

Using Ad Blockers - Brought to you by a Podcast Lover

If you talk to me often, you know you'll hear this at some point during a discussion:  I was listening to this podcast and they were talking about how...

I'm taking this (possibly) annoying habit one step further and, am opening up a podcast discussion here in Nautie Mermate Land.  

Yesterday, I was getting caught up on a podcast I love called Note To Self.  They were talking about how Apple gives the option to Ad Block with their most recent update.  You should really, really give it a listen.

Seems pretty straight forward right?  We hate it when we get pop ups.  Or when we have to stop to watch an ad before we can read an article.  Except, it's not that simple.  Publishers rely heavily on advertising revenue to stay afloat.  What do we do when these publishers go out of business?

We have to be prepared for small publishers to go out of business and large companies like Apple and Facebook swooping in to save the day.  We'll hear them saying, 'oh don't worry that your news isn't free anymore because Ads stopped paying the bills and Mr. Small Publisher had to close up shop - just head over to our News Service'.  Apple News.  Facebook News.

I realize this makes me sound like a conspiracy theorist but, I think anytime a free flow of information is jeopardized as a society we need to be worried.  We need to consider who is controlling the flow of information.  We need to consider the long term consequences of not being able to hear alternate view points.  

Last week I listened to a podcast by Planet Money - an ultimate favorite podcast.  It was about the concept of 'Free'.  How people rebel when things that used to be considered free now have a price attached.  The example they gave was how Veterans feel about the Red Cross.  Super Interesting!  Give it a listen!  NY Times online articles are another great example of this - you get ten articles a month for free and then they require a subscription - except we're used to getting news for free!

Where am I going with this?  The internet has always been 'free' - except it hasn't - it's been paid for by advertising.  How does Google make money?  Google is an advertising agency.  As per Wikipedia 96% of Google's revenue is from advertising.  

This poses an interesting ethical dilemma.  Should we stop allowing large companies to track our every move with cookies and bombard us with advertisements?  Even if it means death to the indie publication and the start-up?

Some of the App Developers who have created Ad Blockers have removed them from the App Store after having second thoughts.

I encourage you to read the original article by Casey Johnston which Manoush references on Note to Self.  

Most of you know that I love the internet.  I love it.  Being a sailor it has allowed me to stay connected in a way that has never before been an option.  When I was a cadet we lined up at payphone's (wait, what are those?!) on the dock.  I received snail mail!  Later, we had email that went through the Captain.  He'd print it out and put it on your door.  My last vessel had wifi.  I could iMessage!  Download podcasts!  Instagram!

I won't be installing Ad Blockers.  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thoughts on being home.

The thing about spending half your year at sea - or just away from home - is that nothing stops while you're away.  

In my mad dash to head out the door I left a little sweet potato stuck in a glass on my windowsill. It had two tiny sprouts coming out the top. This is what I came home to. How it survived let alone thrived is beyond me.  

It's the perfect analogy for just about everything else in my life. 

My family. My friendships. My home.  

I often times leave and return to find things have changed.  

After ten years what I know is this - the things that are meant to be will be here when I return. You know that friend you can see after five years and it's like nothing has changed?  Some things are just meant to be.  

It always takes a few days after coming home to assess the lay of the land.  

What's new. What's the same. What's something I need to let go of. What's broken. What doesn't matter if it never gets fixed.   

People keep asking 'what are your plans this time home?' and what I really wanna say is, 'leave me alone.  I don't need a plan.' but, I don't. I pretend I'm socially adept and tell them what they want to hear.  

Then I hang out in my house. I water my new little sweet potato plant. I rummage through my shelves to see all the things I've forgotten I like. I stream music (because hello cell phone reception is glorious). I wear my pajamas until the afternoon. I shoo the neighborhood cats off my porch.  

My plan is to do that on repeat. The people who don't care I've been gone will stop by and join me.