Please visit our home site at

Anke and I live aboard WAYWARD, and wrote about it's design and construction at

Access to the net comes and goes, so I'll be writing in fits and spurts.Please feel free to browse the archives, leave comments where you will and write... I'll respond as I can.

Fair winds!

Dave and Anke
triloboats swirly gmail daughter com

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Sitting Quietly

Photo Credit Mark Zeiger

Sitting quietly,
doing nothing,
spring comes
and the grass
grows by itself.

Zen Saying

Sitting Quietly, Doing Nothing
I love rolling along under a fair wind. I love working our way against wind or tide. I love nosing into intricate, rocky labyrinths. I love being under way.

But as much or more, I love lying to anchor. For days. For weeks. For months. In some quiet pond, far from the threat of storm. Embraced by stone and soil and the deep, dark trees.

We bluster in, under sail or yuloh a-swash, command and answer-back disturbing the peace.

Stand-by the port anchor (Standing by, port anchor)! Let go the anchor (Anchor's away... SPLASH)! Anchor's on the bottom (On the bottom, aye!)! Make fast (Making fast)! DOINK! Dropping foresail! Whack-ack-ack-ack-huff! Drop the mizzen.. Overhaul the sheets. Raise the rudder and stow the boards. CLUNK, boom (wheeze)!

Our clamor stills, embarrassed by silence.

A bruised silence that holds its breath, waiting... so silent our very breath rasps at it. Our pulse resounds in combers of blood.

But then, the cautious peep of a wary bird. A beat. Another trills in answer. Water, its exact position as yet unknown, resumes its flow, chuckling to itself at the audacity of strangers.

Silence gives way to mere quiet.

And we sit a while and drink it in, speaking, if at all, in murmurs. A glass of wine to honor the setting sun; to ease the strain of muscle and mind that brought us to this place.

We watch those who live here return to their business. Shy at first, but emboldened by our lassitude, they sport and hunt and hide and run from danger – seizing their days and cracking the bones for the marrow. Caught up, one and all, in the same drama as we.

Later to bed and the pleasures thereof.

In the days to follow a book or three. Music made by hand or accepted as the gift of others. Dreams projected in pencil, spilling over the page. Idle banter or none. Caught up in ourselves, or reaching our thoughts to you, our friends, one by one.

Out and about, we come to know the surrounds. Which plants grow, and where. Who made which path, which hole, which midden.

And weaving through it all, the  wood gathered, fires kindled and meals shared. Companionship and content in every chore, in every joy.

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, our lives, like the grass, grow of themselves.


  1. Beautiful!

    My lovely wife and I are at day 19 of travel in an Oday 19. Working our way down the Florida Gulf coast. Today is a beach day. Our travel has been slow, but that's because we have no reason to be anywhere but here and now.

    I'm sure you understand.

  2. Hi Sixbears and Lovely Wife,



  3. Sums up what life really should be like for us humans. We make too much noise, try too hard, live for the future instead of now, live for things. What is the point, really, of all the rushing?

    Nice post Dave.

  4. What a BEAUTIFULL piece of writing Dave. I FEEL it all and agree whole heartedly. Thank You My Friend