The eternal initiation

It would seem that happiness is a path, not a destination.

Doing new stuff is hard. Doing new hard stuff is extra hard. I think that has been the motto of the last few weeks in Guatemala. Mixed in, of course, with the joy of seeing that some of the stuff that you are doing is actually working.

Sailing across the oceans while filming, writing, and producing stories from the sea can be stressful (we don’t want any of that anymore), and I’m journeying with much more ease now that I’m on land. I get to sleep at night. Some nights I even get to sleep in a real double bed, in a room to myself, with fridge, toilet, and shower. What an absolute luxury. It feels insane.

I’ve also travelled long distances in a very short time—at 70 miles per hour. On land. From Rio Dulce to Antigua to Lake Atitlan. Remarkable.

Gone are worries with the money pit of constant repairs on board Falkor, the relentless heat, the moist mattresses, night shifts, and risky anchorages.

Still, I have wobbly days. Days that feel off. Days when my mind is in a loop. Despite meditating. Despite journaling. Despite therapy. Despite less financial stress. Despite plant medicine. Despite quitting my 9-to-5. Despite sailing across the Atlantic. Despite having read and researched most of what is out there on happiness and well-being.

What should I make that mean? That life is messy? Or perhaps, that it is not about never having wobbly days, but how you relate to them once they are a tangible fact. Maybe it is as simple as not trying to avoid them. Not fighting against the turbulence and just accepting that it is there.

Greet it, welcoming it in like an old friend. Like that Rumi poem, the Guest House:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Yes, I am wobbly still. But I am quicker to get through it, quicker to shake it off. When it is there, I take note. I am kind to myself and my emotions: there you are again, old sadness, grumpy dissatisfaction. This, too, shall pass. This, too, is just for now.

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