A Life with Contrast

A life with contrast is more stimulating than a stagnant one. Stark contrasts provide a greater appreciation of the small luxuries and details that become overlooked with too heavy a dose.

So, I have been back in the Dominican Republic for a few weeks now. It is amazing how easy it has been to fall back into the rhythm of life on board. When we arrived in Luperon in August of 2015, I had been living on board for pretty much 10 months straight. (There was a major car accident and a six-week recovery at home thrown in there but that is not today’s focus.) I started the trip in familiar waters with the luxuries of the United States at hand. Good way to ease back in to life on board. Then I transitioned over to the Bahamas and was on a path I had done extensively in a previous trip. From Georgetown on, it was all new territory.

I like to think I appreciated the experiences as best I could. However, it does get easy to take a beautiful beach scene for granted. Or the freedom of movement to choose your destination. Or the interesting people in each new town. I would be surrounded by fascinating sailors and fellow travelers that have all chosen to pursue the same strange lifestyle as me. When we arrived in Luperon, we (Pollux, Tree, Arcturus and I) found ourselves in a great community filled with interesting sailors and locals. There were traditions and practices in place before we arrived that will carry on long after I leave. It was easy to naturally fall into step with the activities here. Softball on Saturday, Poker Night, Karaoke Night, etc.

The cruising lifestyle was something I was used to and comfortable with and we had settled into a great spot to wait out hurricane season. Everything felt natural. I had a dirt bike and put 3000 miles on it exploring the Dominican landscape. At times, I would forget to step back and look at the situation. Rowing in from the boat, tying up to the half sunken dock and motorcycling on dirt roads for 45 minutes to my favorite beach office was completely normal. Hearing sailors’ conversations in five different languages in the same bar was commonplace. Taking a bucket shower on the front of the boat from a five-gallon jug was just the way it was.

So, when I flew back home for Christmas, it was a complete change from the previous year on board. All in one day. I had a full-size bed in a bedroom with a temperature that I could pick. Family and friends who knew my story so that I did not have to retell my surface, skeleton details every time I met someone. Real beef. Incredible draft beer with a variety of choices. Free water at a restaurant. Hot showers. Since my first sailing trip in 2012, every time I take a real shower I literally think “This is so nice. What a luxury.” All the things that are so normal in everyday life were absolute gifts every time. I had all of these amazing things for years and rarely took the time to appreciate them. They were just there. So, while I was home last year, I tried to appreciate everything as best I could. The air conditioning. The English language. Familiar faces. People who have known me more than a few months. It was great.

But. After a while. I began to miss the small details of life on board. Swimming and rowing every day. Living in my own home. Moving to new locations. Meeting new people. Feeling stimulated and accomplished by having to solve problems and overcome difficult circumstances. I appreciated the small details at home but started getting excited about returning to boat life. Maybe not a “the grass is greener on the other side” kind of mentality. Just a “I remember the grass from the other side and would like to see it again”.

Flying into the Dominican Republic was a similar stark contrast as returning to the US. But I was so surprised how easily I fell right back into the rhythm. Everything was familiar. I had lived here for three months and knew what to expect. The warm tropical air. Spectacular mountain scenery. Completely insane and illogical traffic. I walked into Wendy’s Bar and people greeted me by name. Arcturus was waiting for me and looked beautiful, as always. There is my bed. There is my French press. There is my compost toilet that is still giving me headaches. The familiar smells on board. My first motorcycle rides on my favorite routes. Lunch for $2. The incredible phosphorescence trails behind my rowing dinghy when returning home at night. I was able to appreciate all the small details that had become so normal when living there before. After an absence from the lifestyle, I could now take a fresh look at all the everyday details and enjoy them. I am trying hard to keep the fresh perspective and really take in all the positives of being here. It is easy to get bogged down by the negatives and forgot the good bits. This is nothing new. There are so many generic posters and overused sayings about appreciating the small details and good things in life. Hearing and knowing such statements is one thing but I have been consciously trying to put it in practice.

It always comes back to Why with me. Why is it hard to appreciate the small details of life after living around them for too long? Why can’t they be appreciated all the time? Can they? Is it even possible for all people to do this? Does it take an active effort and would it be just faking it sometimes which would lose the entire small pleasure of the detail in the first place and defeat the whole damn purpose??

I was working through these questions this morning and these two statements formed in my head. Literally an Aha! kind of moment. I have no idea if I believe these and haven’t had sufficient time to chew on them but here they are:

That is a broad statement that happens to apply to my situation. Going from the life I am used to in the United States back to the life I am used to on board my sailboat are comfortable situations for me but are hugely different. Stark contrast for sure. Oversaturation of either life makes certain aspects seem mundane or maybe not even noticed after too long. So, yeah. A life with contrast is more stimulating than a stagnant one. A quick, sharp change of circumstances helps accentuate the little details of each that might not be prominent otherwise.

But like I said. Broad statement. I am not sure how it would apply to a different lifestyle. I think everyone finds their own contrasts within the context and circumstances of their own life. Each of these contrasts would have to be different for each of us. For me, it is living on Arcturus and staying on the move. Meeting new people and being forced to try new things. Keeps me on my toes. But I want to work on finding smaller, more subtle contrasts within the routine of everyday life. Not just appreciate them after being absent for a while but even after being exposed to them for long periods of time. Something to work towards, at least.