I was talking with a friend the other day when a quote came up; a quote on a fortune cookie, actually. The saying has some general variation in terminology, but its effect is unmistakeable.
"A ship in port is safe. But this is not what the ship was built for."
I've been thinking about this quote a lot. It seems to have struck a chord with the current upheaval I'm going through in my life.
The world was not designed to be safe, comfortable, or easy. The absence of these traits shouldn't function as a deterrent for experiencing life. If life is wasted worrying about the potential negative consequences of any given choice, you've already doomed yourself to stress, anxiety, and indecision.
Not only are you not going anywhere, but you're actively sabotaging your life as is.
This is particularly at odds with some initial thoughts about humanity and/or society. Namely, the American dream, which consists of a stable career, stable relationships, and owning of a home. The American dream is an attempt to make stable and comforting that which is inherently not so. I can't reasonably place a value judgment on this decision. After all, stability does afford us some happiness and stress-avoidance, even if it's not technically natural, per se.
Likewise, humanity actively seeks stability since it's environmentally ideal for raising children. Safety and comfort is a virtual necessity for squishy children. Stability also guarantees a longer life for the parents.
With that in mind, it seems obvious (to me, at least) that our metaphorical ship is no more meant for stormy waters as it is meant for the harbor. The ship, rather, is meant for the experience along the way. The ship is intended to provide function and form, while maintaining some level of safety. It is, after all, better to be in a boat than it is to be adrift on a plank of wood.
As such, the ship gives us some direction, some safety, and some utility. We have some semblance of control in an otherwise untamed world of waves and waters. It is perhaps then best if the captain knows how to navigate the ship in order to avoid troubled waters, while still maintaining course and purpose. Thus, there is intent without reckless abandon. Comfort without complacency. Stability without boredom.
Given the most skilled captain, one could even analyze and calculate the potential danger of a storm before actually being in it, giving the ability to pick and choose adventures that promise to be exciting without being unnecessarily dangerous.
Of course, this is all following a pretty strict analogy that doesn't really have any bearing on the world by necessity. So I'm dancing around a point instead of actually making it. There's a reason for that though- I'm interested in letting you, my dear reader, come to your own conclusion on how to approach the sea of life, before giving my own position.
Maintaining my unhealthy love of Aristotle, I favor the golden mean. The virtuous middle between any two extremes- in this case complacency and recklessness. Life is meant to be lived. Experiences are meant to be had. Sadness, love, anger, frustration, joy, elation, jealousy, pride, comfort, solace, exhaustion, fear. These are all natural things to experience. These are emotions that, when experienced, inform our perspective of the world. The more we experience, the more we can hope to understand the world in which we function. To that end, there is some need to stretch the boundaries and experience beyond our comfort zone.
But, for the same reason, there is some need to sit comfortably in the middle of our bubble and remind ourselves of our position and our surroundings.
Travel, but do so cautiously. Experience with intent to learn. Take every experience as a lesson for the future, and don't avoid things just because they're completely terrifying. Some of our fears are totally irrational. Like a fear of trying new foods.
*Cough self-deprecating humor Cough*
Analyzing which of our fears are justified and which are not is the difficult part. I'm still sorting through that, so I'll let you know how it goes when I get to the other side of this chasm.
-
Waddles
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