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Journeys with no end

man playing a guitar
man playing a guitar

Every step is an accomplishment in itself

Issue 98: Sept/Oct 2014

I didn’t know this when I was younger. I haven’t been young for 20 years now, but some things, the best things, have no end, no finale, no point of termination.

My acoustic guitar was the first to illuminate this principle for me. I foolishly believed that once I was able to play a few Jimmy Buffett songs I would be satisfied and happy or even content with my musical skills. I was not. I wanted more.

Originally, I believed I was greedy and selfish for always wanting more and never being satisfied, but it dawned on me that learning to play the guitar is a skill that can never truly be mastered and this musical journey had no final destination. The joy and satisfaction derived from skills learned today will have no intoxicating effect in the future, and new skills must be learned.

This realization made me happy. I no longer needed to worry about artificial deadlines or to measure myself against some imaginary yardstick. All I had to do was to continue to play, to continue to learn.

This was a new concept for me. I began to see journeys with no end everywhere: my relationship with my wife and daughter, my skills as an employee, and even the role I play as the caretaker of our old boat.

I used to charge head first, rather masochistically, into a boat refurbishing project, creating schedules and deadlines to keep the project on track. Items were checked off from a long list, and I dreamed of the day when everything would be completed . . . and then I would be happy and satisfied.

But boat lists rarely shrink and oftentimes grow, sometimes exponentially. Each project completed seemed to shine a light on a couple more tasks that should be added to the list. Daily work schedules were doubled and then tripled to keep the project on track. Working on the boat ceased to be fun. Burnout was inevitable. What might start as a short hiatus from the boat could turn into a long, sometimes permanent, sabbatical with all progress coming to a halt.

That was a long time ago. I now approach my boat work as a journey with no end. I have only one rule: do some sort of work on the boat every day. Make no lists. Keep no schedules. Choose projects by mood, time constraints, or necessity. I complete my task and receive my reward of the joy and satisfaction that can come only from doing a job well. My focus has been permanently shifted from arbitrary future endpoints to a more pleasing, present-day view of daily tasks.

As the days and months passed, our boat went through a major transformation with seemingly little effort. It was easy to see why. With the additional help of my wife, employing the same philosophy, we were able to complete 60 tasks in one month. After three months, more than 180 items were completed. I have to chuckle at the thought of what our boat will look like a year from now.

Conrad Cooper is a published author (Own Less & Live More) who enjoys writing about boats and the cruising lifestyle. Currently, he and his wife, Roxanne, are refurbishing their third boat and plan to go cruising again in the spring of 2015. Visit their blog at www.LifeOfLatitude.com.

Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com

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