TRUE NORTH

A northerly breeze blowing down Port Phillip Bay generally bears down bringing warmth and flat water (and plenty of pesky jet skiers); attributes that offset the shifty conditions and correlating mental strain brought to bear upon the sailor. The Southerly brings with it a colder yet more steady flow of wind and waves. In summer, it’s like an old friend, showing up at the same time each day, caressing with relative stability, predictability and forgiveness when erroneous tactical decisions are made. Westerly breezes whilst enticing the sailor with steadier wind patterns, bring a change of mood often coupled with a sense of trepidation accompanying the billowing gusts and oft times white tipped, large, “I really don’t want to sail down that”, rollers. An Easterly breeze throws down the challenge for performance, somewhat akin to a chess game. “Guess my next move. Try and outsmart me. Just when you thought you had me figured out”. It breeds uncertainty, second guessing and can ultimately result in glorious victory or tragically horrible defeat of the kind which sees a rapid exit from the yacht club after racing.

It’s easy to guess which wind conditions are preferable, bringing most joy and pleasure to a novice sailing enthusiast. If only the wind be warm and the seas always smooth. Even better if I could accurately, winningly predict the next wind shift, the next gust. Remove the unpredictable, anchor the moving goal. Alas, Aeolus dictates, I may be the captain of the ship, but not always in control of her direction. A cold low pressure system is brewing, bringing change and unfavourable precipitation and challenge. Buffeting the sails of my craft, threatening my destination and testing my strength and will. Forcing the acceptance of a new course bearing – a ‘new normal’.

There is a deeply unsynchronized connection between discomfort, (both physical and mental), comfort zones and courage. Courage is rarely the default response to all things ‘new comfort zone’. A wise old man once said,
“Fear is a reaction. Courage is a decision”. Winston Churchill.

A more modern retake on a similar approach:
“I will not let the darkness steal the joy within my soul
I will not let my circumstance become my compass, no
I will not let the fears of life and sorrows of this world
Dictate to me how I should feel” Rend Collective

Messages that serve me well as I move from the fear of one leg lift to achieving three sets of fifteen, from side planks of 15 seconds to the goal of 77 seconds or climbing stairs without reservation or anticipation of pain. There’s no recipe for courage. I haven’t found a healing poultice, or herbal remedy. There’s no “Moving Your Comfort Zone for Dummies” on Amazon. There’s certainly also no one design sailing boat guaranteeing easy navigation and fair seas. It stops and starts with me. Fear or courage? The compass bearing glares back at me, prompting, encouraging, recommending a change of course. A few degrees at a time, stretching me slowly, deliberately, intrinsically and doggedly. Guiding tactical and navigational opportunities, demanding responses to wind shifts, motivation for the avoidance of capsizes, reducing fear of big swell and breeze, dictating the position of the sails, and ultimately providing the direction for victory.

1 leg lift, 2 leg lifts… 45 leg lifts.