0219 in the morning, accommodating to the beginning of my dog watch. The night is clear and still, only the gentle sound of Galini sliding through a serene sea. The moon is new and absent tonight, leaving the vastness of the universe open for wondered viewing. The southern cross has already set, but looking forward to the bow I see Ursa Major dipping vertical along the starboard mast. I am stretched out in the cockpit with the instrument lies low, so I can listen to the sea, the wind, and Galini’s soft motion. Still we are helped by the current pushing us tward the southeastern tip of Jamaica. 60 nm to go now until we turn down her southern coast and onward to Grand Cayman. I hear the distinct cries of a tropic bird, I cant see her, but I hear her. Your are from home little bird, whose nesting grounds lie in Bermuda. Listening. It is one of the tenants in the guide to peach and serenity. A key principle guiding the path to a richer existence. I find it challenging to embrace the listening skill sometimes. I am often clouded with my own thoughts, directions, and wants. I remember my grandfather telling me as a young boy, that listening is more powerful than talking. He would tell me that if I listen, I will open a door to a spirit gifted by God. When we went fishing in his old wooden boat on Lake Eufala near his home, he would often tell me stories of his life. Sometimes these stories would be interrupted by the cry of hawk, owl, frog, or flutter of a bass fin chasing its prey. Did you hear that? I hadn’t, or had, but not paid attention. Slowly I learned as a boy I learned to remove the filter of self and begin to listen to the abudance of nature’s beauty on display. Listening opens the door into another person’s spirit. My grandfather would say, “look another man in the eye, listen to his thoughts, and there you will find his truth.” Wow. I find it fascinating that although lessons like that resonated, the greater understanding of their message remained enigmatic. My father too, carried listening as a principle for betterment. My dad would tell me, “David, if you want to grow into a man others respect, listen to all things”. As I write this and think of my father, the tropic bird is back, circling the boat, looking for a landing spot to rest. My Dad would have loved to be here. Listening to the ocean and the tropic bird. If he were hear, we would sit in silence, I’m sure. Listening. Comfortable with the knowledge that our love and respect for each other did not need to be reassured by talking. We would often remain in silence for a long time, regardless of the chore, outdoor work, mechanical work, sailing. Just being together. God I miss those days. Still I learned from both these men that listening is not limited to conversation between people or hearing the substance of the world. There is a wealth of knowledge to be gained from listening to one’s self. Quiet. Inside each of us is a spiritual core, that if ignored, shutters the chance to gain self awareness. My dad would tell me to think of others and see their worth. And there is still more. Listening to the sea, the wind, and that tropic bird reminds me of the vast beauty in the diversity of life. I love to wonder at the paradoxes that bind together our universe, and to comprehend the message constrained by human capacity from a power greater than myself. This type of listening demands humility. I find a grace in that, a grace that my father and grandfather carried in their lives. Funny, only after they both have passed on and I grow older, do I now seek to unravel the hidden intricacies of listening to the lessons they gifted.
