The Dingie in the Dinghy

Someone tells me not to get into the dinghy. I get in anyway. They tell me not to start the engine. I start it.

Then they say, "Whatever you do, don't head out to sea."

I point the dinghy at the horizon and gun it.

The only thing I hear is, "Come back!" I turn around, wave goodbye and smile.

As I plow onward, I already have someone to blame when something goes wrong. You see, in my mind, my actions will be their fault because they didn't do enough to stop me. All of my answers and solutions are safely on shore, yet I continue on. Many problems lie ahead, and they will worsen if I keep going. I proceed.

I fight to get the dinghy over the waves as they thrust me backwards. The water is choppy and the farther I go, the rougher it gets. I'm willing to take the risks. After all, I am "in control." Time passes and the engine begins to fade. I'm afraid to go back. That's why I left in the first place. I was fearful of looking at myself and changing my ways. I'm still not ready to call it quits, even through everything is telling me I should. I barrel on.

I push the engine until it dies. The only option I have now is using the oars to paddle my way. It doesn't take long until I collapse from exhaustion. With nothing left, the sea capsizes the dinghy. Alone, cold, and fighting for life, I somehow get a grip on it, keeping myself afloat. One helpful wave connects with the dinghy and flips it back over. I climb in.

With no hope for a fix, I become willing to face what I've been avoiding. By surrendering, I no longer have to waste energy. I point the bow back home and allow the power of the waves I've been fighting to help me move forward.

I just have to stay on course and allow myself to be guided.

No Regrets,

Jimmy