I look anxiously at the little boat I’m sitting in. I feel like I’ve outgrown it. Even though it offers me a certain sense of safety, tied to the shore it will never take me anywhere. Where I want to go, it can’t carry me – it’s too fragile for the waves out in the open sea. I pace back and forth inside it, then fix my eyes on the point where the line of the sky meets the water. I try to see beyond it. It’s too far away.

I toss and turn like a lion in a cage, and all I want is to shed this little boat. Water is an unfamiliar world to me, and the shore is far too familiar. But staying here, floating on the water while tethered to land, has worn me out. I’ve had enough.

“Whatever happens,” I tell myself. “ If I don’t get out of the boat, I’ll never reach that far-off place I want to be – and I’ll surely die clutching safety.” I take one more turn around the boat and quickly pack only the things that truly matter to me, or that I’ll need along the way.

I sling the backpack over my shoulders and sit on the edge of the boat. With my feet touching the water, I look once more toward the horizon, gather my courage, and stand up. The water ripples gently beneath my soles. A few steps away, the blue of the sea deepens. A gust of wind makes the boat behind me rock and sends small waves across the surface.

I’m about to take a step when I hear an oar fall from the side of the boat into the water. What will become of this boat? I glance back furtively, grit my teeth, and take my first step. I look back once more, with a twinge of regret.

With my heart torn in two, I try to steady myself and take another step. Oh no! Suddenly the water slips away beneath me, and a wave rolling in from the open sea pulls me under. It slams me against the seabed, and I swallow a large mouthful of water. All kinds of thoughts rush through my mind.

“Why did I need more?”
“I was wrong…”
“I can’t do this.”

Amid all the turmoil inside me and around me, I look up, and through the water a few rays of sunlight drift down gently. It feels as if time stands still, and I realize I can’t go back; I no longer want to live in the boat. Out at sea, my journey might end sooner than I hoped – but whatever happens, I have to move forward.

I start wave my arms in desperate determination to reach the surface. I swallow another mouthful of water. I get angry and launch myself upward like a rocket. I will not be defeated at the very first step. I break the surface, gasp for air, then cough violently. I grab hold of the boat and, with my last bit of strength, pull myself up onto its edge.

Sitting there, on its rim, I notice its cracks. It’s old and tired. It’s time to untie my heart from it. I linger for a moment, celebrating one last time the time we had together – it was a good one. I run my hands along its edge, feeling its texture one final time. Then I let go of it completely and take the first step again.

With my eyes forward, the sun warming every cell of my body, I leap toward the unknown with a heart full of joy.

Godspeed.