This is a time when a person could get seasick. A Russian ambassador was murdered at an art opening in Turkey. A terrorist driver rammed a truck into a Christmas market in Berlin. The evacuation of Aleppo continued. The electoral college voted. On a daily basis our president-elect says he is opposed to something, and the next day, he says, “Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I meant this.” Cabinet appointees are on record promising to demolish the agencies they are hired to lead. Congressional leaders react to tweets. Justices at the Supreme Court wait to see who will be named to break their ties. Out of work coal miners are still out of work. This is a storm, and at 4 a.m. last night, I felt seasick.
Years ago, an elderly English gentleman and frequent passenger on ships, gave me some tips on how to keep from getting seasick. We were on board an overnight ferry going from Taiwan to Hong Kong. Rough seas were expected in the Taiwan Strait that night and he had some advice.
1. Don’t stay in your cabin, pitching and rolling with the ship. Your body will respond by heaving your dinner out and you won’t be able to sleep or rest anyway. Get up.
2. Go to the bridge or to a window where you can see out. Breathe in the fresh, salty air.
3. Find the horizon, that level line far beyond the ship’s bow. When you look at the horizon, your legs will anticipate the next heave and roll. Your stomach won’t lurch from one plunge to another. You can stabilize your innards even if you can’t stop the storm.
4. Get to know other passengers who aren’t seasick. You’ll find that people in a storm are interesting to talk to.
This advice has helped me in the last few weeks. I can’t do anything about the storm we are in and the storm is not going to go away. All I can do is find the points on my horizon and not get seasick. Sometimes it’s prayer I say, a group I’m in, a hill I climb, a book I read, a piece of music I love that matter. These are some things that steady me so I can be more fully in the world.
Ships move through storms. They don’t shut down their engines and sit in the heaving ocean. They plow straight into the waves. They make progress. And storms pass. We have to keep hope alive that our ship, our democracy, is strong enough to get through this storm. There is no hope if we give up hope. So hang onto those horizon points in your life. Nurture them, remember them, think about them, touch them. Keep yourself from getting seasick as much as you can. See you on deck.
Annie Cheatham lives in Conway.