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Reminiscences - Part 2
Jerry Kuhlman - Highland Yoga Co-Founder - 8/24/2005
continued from
Reminiscences -
Part 1
And
so, with no sailing experience at all, I stepped aboard the Destination,
a 41-foot sailboat headed for a “circumnavigation” of the Caribbean. I
swear that’s how it was billed. At that point in my life, I was convinced
that I could do anything, and talk to anyone. It was just a matter of
freeing the mind, and opening to the possibilities, right? I’d answered the
ad (“Caribbean cruise, pay for your own food”) and of the 100+ people who
had responded to it, Marvin chose me. He said that he liked my “life”
experience, but since he’d advertised solely in a student newspaper, I
naturally had more of it than my competition. He also liked the thought of
having an engineer onboard, someone who could fix a diesel engine…or a stove
or a winch. I was, in fact, pretty handy, I’d told him. I’d completely
disassembled my Corvair a few years back, reworked it, and put it back
together. I’d conveniently omitted the part about my Dad’s help and
guidance. Still I took pride in that part of my history. I was big on
pride in those days. Though yoga and meditation had given me confidence and
direction and focus and a whole new world in which to be, my opinion of
myself was somewhat large. Add a string of personal and business successes,
and my head had inflated to the size of a beach ball. Looking back, I find
it interesting that I didn’t consider it a problem. The concept of ego flew
over my head. I wasn’t even aware that I had one. As we go deeper into our
respective practices, a number of transformations occur. Taming of the ego
is included, but that came later for me.
Marvin was a 55
year-old “self-made” man. He’d made lots of money with surplus TV
antennas. Go figure. Those were the days before cable. Dave, fresh off a
halibut fishing boat in Alaska, rounded out our crew of three. He was the
21-year-old son of Marvin’s long-time friend, and business associate. So on
that late summer day, two 20-somethings and a 55’er pulled out of Houston
for St. Petersburg. The intention was to round Florida, sail through the
Bahamas to Puerto Rico, then to the Virgin Islands, island hop thru the
Leeward and Windward island chains, the ABC’s (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao),
up to the Dominican Republic and Jamaica, and end the trip in Cozumel,
Mexico, a “circumnavigation” of the Caribbean. Was this a dream or what?
The
first day was a revelation. Shortly before sunset, I remember thinking this
was really a long day. After the game of chess with Dave, cooking, baking
bread, the daily chores, and navigation there was still a big chunk of day
left. And then there was the night. We took 3-hour turns at the wheel.
How to fill the time? The stakes in my meditation practice had risen. I’ve
always felt ashamed to admit to boredom, telling myself it implies lack of
creativity by default, i.e., boredom is not an option. Truth be told, the
first two days of that trip were the most boring of my life, and I began to
doubt the wisdom of this little adventure. Adding to the slow pace, was the
actual slow pace of the boat. The surface of the Gulf of Mexico was
glass-like in its stillness. We were motoring due to lack of wind. Who’d
have thunk it? Toward the end of the 2nd day, we began to get a
little puff of wind here and there, so we hoisted the sails, but barely
moved. Still, we could not motor forever, due to the lack of diesel fuel to
run the engine. No need for big fuel tanks on a sailboat, right? We ambled
along. No, floundered is a better description. We were into the third day,
when the wind picked up and we were off to the races. All of a sudden, life
was interesting. Learning the little facets of sailing, tending the gear,
observing nature and our interaction with it, all of it was thoroughly
fascinating to me now, but with a distraction. It excited Marvin, too.
He’d made a 180 degree turn in behavior, from a teddy bear sort of guy to
Captain Bligh himself, snarling out commands along with insults,
short-tempered and agitated, in part, due to sleep deprivation. He said
that it took him a few days to become accustomed to the rocking of the
boat. I also detected a bit of “Jekyll and Hyde” in Marvin. One moment he
was docile, the next, he could be raging. For some reason, never revealed,
he was an angry person. No problem, though. Some of my past bosses were on
a par with ole Marvin, so I had experience. I could handle this. Then the
wind picked up a bit more, and the rains began, agitating Marvin even more.
Then more wind, and more rain. In short order, to our surprise, we were
experiencing 20 to 30 foot seas and 30 to 50 knot winds. The next 7 days
were a nightmare that had me praying for boredom. We didn’t know, until we
arrived in St. Petersburg, that we had tracked the edge of a hurricane for
several days. The Destination was equipped with a radio, but it had
a very short range. With no radio contact, we were clueless. The
rains and wind subsided after 4 to 5 days, but the rough seas persisted. The Destination rocked and rolled and pitched and bucked
like a bronco in a rodeo, but unlike the obligatory 8-second rides in a
rodeo, this went on for days. We were forced to beat into the wind to make
any headway, and waves would often crash over the gunnels into the cockpit.
Eventually, water was sloshing around below deck, which made for thoroughly
miserable conditions. None of us could sleep very well, as the bedding was
soaked, and the boat wasn’t heated. I was shivering most of the time, but I
did manage to get a minimum of rest between shifts, trying to concentrate on
my breath, and yoga, however I could manage it. Long conversations with myself ensued. I pled for days with my
mind and body to maintain composure. Dave and Marvin didn’t fare so well.
After several days of no sleep and being tossed around by the huge seas,
Marvin was delirious. His speech began to slur, and he was in a severe
state of confusion. Forget asking how to sail the boat. He
was elsewhere. I actually thought at the time that he’d had a stroke. Dave
just gave up on it and stayed in bed, seasick and vomiting for days. For
two days, I was alone at the wheel most of the time. Remember, dear reader,
that yours truly was an inexperienced sailor, but according to the compass,
I seemed to be doing the right things. We were making progress, slow as it was.
I managed to keep my wits about me, I think(?), and got us fairly close to
shore. The seas finally died down. Marvin and Dave came back around and we made it
into St. Petersburg. I stepped off the boat, and couldn’t walk
straight. Whoa! That's what sea legs means. I had learned posthaste, that on the high seas, there
is a fine line between boredom, and great excitement, next comes terror.
Marvin praised my efforts, which gave me great self-satisfaction. Reference
the previously mentioned beach ball. He apologized for his behavior, saying
that he wasn’t himself, what with the lack of sleep, constant bashing from
the sea, and the cold and wet conditions. And after all, he said, he was 55
years old and couldn’t handle it like us “young bucks”. And, by the way,
pardon me for my short fuse. The experience and its aftermath gave me great
confidence to a fault. Yoga and meditation did, in fact, give me an
advantage, I found, but lurking in my back reaches were the pitfalls of
superiority and judgment. Alas, dear readers, read on. Maybe you’ll learn
from my mistakes. Marvin needed some understanding to make a break from his
demons. I didn’t have the tools. As I’d discover later on, but too late
for this occasion, it’s hard to understand, and eventually care
about someone, when you’re constructing big judgments in the background.
From a reverse angle, practicing compassion toward those around us is a huge
step toward gaining better control of the ego, which is the “father” of superiority
and judgment.
For
the next ten days, we stayed in St. Petersburg to catch up on our sleep, and
to repair the boat and ripped out sails. Under less stress, we bonded. By
the time we pulled out of port for Key West, we were a warm and fuzzy, and
well-rested crew, made stronger by the ordeal. In looking back on the
experience, I find it quite amazing, especially with the context of the rest
of my life. I did seem to have something more in my tank than Marvin and
Dave, and the reason was state of mind. My practice was going deeper. I
had rounded a corner. Beyond habit or obsession or addiction (all terms
I’ve heard recently in the studio to describe the “need” for it), yoga had
become a lifestyle for me. I'd reached a point where I didn’t think too much about it, I just
practiced. When I felt stressed, I immediately tapped into my breath and bandhas. I picked a meditative point of focus and clung to its coattails.
It got me through the hardest of times. Thereafter, with the long hours on
the boat, I adapted a practice to the pitching and rolling, the incline of
the deck, and the nooks and crannies of a sailboat. I spent a good part of
the days and nights in yogic bliss with headstands in the cockpit, backbends
over the mizzen, navasanas on the bow, pranayama at the wheel, and
meditation...anytime, anywhere I could work it in. Marvin and Dave
thought I was nuts, but I could tell they were somewhat mystified by it.
The
rest of the trip was much less intense than those first ten days, and I’ll
respectfully not impose all the details upon you, but how I could expound! Yes, we saw
the most wondrous sights, and met the most exotic, interesting people. We
skipped from island to island, mooring sometimes in pristine anchorages,
while also spending a good deal of time in marinas along the way. It was a
regular slide show of rich and colorful experiences, New York Times travel
section material…on the surface. Seething below the great times, Marvin’s
recurring anger and temper tantrums began to take its toll on me. I kept
telling myself, “I can handle this”, but then another dimension of me took
control of the situation. One day, off the island of Bonaire in the
southern Caribbean, in response to Marvin’s latest outburst, I calmly packed my
bags, asked Dave to dingy me into the shore, and I was gone. Just like
that. Thus ending my idyllic cruise. So long, Marv. Nowadays, I can more
easily de-fuse similar conflicts, and go on with life. Fortunately, these
situations are now more ripple-like on my surface. In those days, they were
large waves “crashing over my gunnels”. I look back, and in fact, see that
my own superior behavior probably added fuel to Marvin’s temper. I can still hear my
small self saying, “I’m not gonna take this shit”.
I
caught a plane back to the Virgin Islands, and stayed a few days with a
diving friend I’d met several months back, then on to Houston. More than a
year had passed since I’d quit my job. After a few weeks of job searching,
I got a call from my old boss. He'd heard that I was back in town. He said that he missed how I made him look
good. He’d like to hire me again, with a promotion and much higher pay.
After some long talks, he felt certain that the “travel bug” was out of my
system. I accepted. I was every bit as productive and involved as before.
I put my nose to the grindstone. It was a smooth transition. It seemed
that I could change hats at will. The undercurrent, the method to this
madness, so to speak, had been set years back. When my brother died, a
realization came over me. Life is fragile and fleeting by nature. One day
you could be making apple brown betties and the next day you’re gone. I was
determined to eat up life and freedom while I could. If I had to go back to
work to make more money to hit the road again, by golly, I could do that.
Life experience was my real career, as it seemed to be the most expeditious
route to expanding my soul, putting a spark in my brain, and achieving an
“open-ended” life…a life not bound by any one place, or job, or dogma,
absolutely flexible and without expectations. Whew, those were big
thoughts! (to be continued)
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