Why we sail
Today’s efficiency tries to focus on multiple issues simultaneously by splitting time. Instead, we seek harmony in this increasing entropy. Sometimes, also an expanded horizon. For the sake of improving our general view.

In the middle of this, our intense life, we ask ourselves: what is the goal, what is the meaning and which is the way to get there?

Our luck is our opportunity: We have each other, good friends and a well-running company. We experience and discover the essentials of the world together. Voyages give us the expanded horizon. The children get on well at school and it is a joy to see them inhale proficiency of life.

The best time, however, we have onboard our sailing boat. Here, all essentials in life are given. The world becomes both smaller and, at the same time, larger. The focus is obvious, compact and clearly defined. At the same time, the horizon is indefinite. Nature, the air, the sea, the power, the adventure… all in direct vicinity. Time passes slower, life becomes longer and thus rich. One gets time for quietness, thoughts, talks and solidarity. Sometimes, the experience of having done something well is given as a reward. The weather pattern has direct vital consequences and invites to analytical imaginational excursions. Navigation gives mathematics and geography for the children. The countries we visit give understanding for languages and culture. All may take its time. The next harbour is the goal – the sea is the route. When berthing, distance has been made. We have come some way on our track of life. Here, there are new discoveries to be made!

We are a closely united crew and enjoy being together.

* * *
The Swedish Ocean Sailing Club (OSK) once published the following poem, which has since had its place on our refrigerator. The poet is unfortunately not known.

A small boy heard the ocean roar,
There are secrets on my distant shore,
But beware my child, the ships bell’s wail,
Wait not to long to start to sail.

So quickly come and go the years,
And a young adult stands abeach with fears,
Com on, Come on the ocean cussed,
Time passes on. Oh sail you must.

Now its business in mid-aged prime,
And maybe tomorrow there will be time,
Now is too soon, its raining today,
Gone all gone-years are eaten away.

An old man looks, still feeling the lure,
Yet he’ll suffer the pain, than go for the cure,
The hair is white, the steps with care,
The tide has turned, he is aware.

So all too soon the secrets are buried,
Along with him and all regrets he carried,
And it’s not for the loss of secrets he cried,
But rather because he’d never tried.