The analogy of the boat.

If you are to go forward, you must row. And not drift. You must row: stroke following stroke. Pause for breath, yes, but do not drift. Pause to adjust your trajectory but take up the oars, and row again: stroke following stroke following stroke. Work returning to sweat and heat and exhausted muscles. To go forward, row yet again: stroking forward with arms and legs and back, with pull and lift and pull again.

In changing seasons, first just sit in the boat. When you change watercraft, before you launch out, before you begin rowing, you need to sit. Sit still and get a feel for the movement of the boat upon the water. What is its rhythm, what is its draft? Does it sit low in the water? Or is it rather top heavy and unstable? Does it rest and sigh with the lap of water against its sides? Or does it squirm and jerk with any motion of the water? What is this new craft you have clambered into?

A new season of life is like settling yourself into a new water vessel. No use to compare it to your previous vessel, no use to complain about its differences or inconveniences or limitations. It is your craft to pilot; sit down and get a feel for this new accommodation.

Do you want to untether from the dock, launch out into the open waters? Good. There are oars, and oarlocks and maybe even a fellow sailor in your boat. Settle yourself, observe, examine and place your equipment. Then row.

Yes, this is a row boat. In order to move forward, you have to row. To work, to sweat, to tire…but never to drift. Drifting will not bring you to your destination.

Ah! But have you chosen your destination? Have you scanned the horizon and picked out the point you will be making towards? Your rowing must be, not only with strength and skill, but also with purpose. To what are you aiming? Will you get there before your strength gives out? One doesn’t know. But the only way to close the gap between where you are and where you hope to be is to point your prow toward your chosen destination and row.

You will need pauses to rest your muscles or readjust your direction or assess any changing conditions in water or weather. But then, back to rowing: pull, lift, bend, dip. Again and again and again.

What about this new-to-you season of life? Are you comfortably seated in your little bobbing craft? Have you calculated her setting in the water and gotten her “feel”? Are you sitting in her without upsetting her? Are you managing her idiosyncrasies in the waves and under the propulsion of the oars?

Own it. My season of life. My changed season of life. Sit in it. Get a feel. What kind of craft are you in? Learn to handle her untethered from the dock. Learn to row her out and back again. Don’t let her drift, but teach her to respond to your efforts and urgings; teach her to serve you.

Daily row, daily work. Don’t expect miracles. Don’t be discouraged with lack of progress or cross winds or unsuspected currents. Work through the differing weather conditions and fluctuating energies and inner personal heartiness. Keep sight of the goal. And row.