Susan Smillie was an
established journalist and editor at the British publication, The Guardian, when she gave it all up
and went to sea alone on a small boat.
She wanted a simpler life, she says in her essay “I Live Alone At Sea. Here’s How To Be Happy in Isolation.” So she “ended up crossing
the Channel to France, sailing down the Atlantic coast to Portugal, into the
Mediterranean, through Spain and Italy to Greece.” Even though she thought she had her dream job
at the newspaper, her new life on the ocean was “magical” and
“nourishing.” She realized, early on,
that people can change their behavior; in fact, it is easier than one might
think.
A sailor alone on the
open sea faces myriad dangers, but there are secret and profound joys: the first cup of tea in the morning; the
light at sunset; a good dinner. The
biggest challenge in her isolated existence, for Smillie, was boredom. However, she relished her small cozy sleeping
cabin below deck, especially when the wind was howling outside and rain slashed
the decks.
One surprising
discovery involved limiting internet use.
She knew that too much screen time was bad, so she would only log on
briefly for news reports, social media, and streaming music to lift her
spirits. Increasingly, she spent the
majority of her downtime on “nourishing things that can’t fail—books,
cloudspotting, writing, growing herbs…and exercise,” mainly stretching because
of the cramped space. She also embraced
the joys of cooking and experimenting with the ingredients she could procure.
“I have become my own
living proof that you need very little to be extremely happy,” she writes. “We humans are incredibly resourceful and we
do adapt. Fear and its symptoms—panic
and anxiety—are normal responses to danger and uncertainty.” Instead, Smillie relies on gut instinct and
intuition. She learned to react quickly
to a storm front blowing in and whitecap waves rocking the boat. When we are in a crisis, she says, “we cope,
recover and learn.” She cautions us to
pay attention, especially when our normal routines are upended. She advises us to “see clearly what’s
important and…disregard irrelevance.” In
the end, we will be surprised at what “we can face, with grace, courage, humor…”
Because we can only
communicate over a wireless connection with those we love who live elsewhere
during the COVID-19 experience, we must seize upon and find comfort in the
smallest human contact. Smillie says to
never underestimate that—the sound of a voice over the phone is now precious to
us.
Quitting one’s job, or
worse, being furloughed or fired, means reduced financial well-being and threats
to health and welfare. Smillie knew she
would be facing reduced circumstances when she left the paper. For those having to survive on less, she has
important advice: “Things will be tight
for many of us newly without income.”
She advocates reducing spending and breaking down our “addiction to
consumption.” But she believes “We have
the reserves to adapt and find happiness.”
Out on the open ocean, she revels in the beauty of nature—“the birds
that fly around the harbor at sunset, the fish nibbling the quay, the crabs
scuttling below.”
Probably the most
positive change she sees in this pandemic is the natural world reasserting itself
due to reduction in our activity: lower
pollution levels, less traffic, more time to spend with families. “We are becoming aware that this is a chance
for real change,” she writes, “and that is the biggest positive of all.”
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