“The true test in life does not occur when all is going well. The true test takes place when we are faced with challenges.” Catherine Pulsifer, from All is Going Well

I’m sure you’ve heard it said, “If you want to see God laugh, tell Her your plans.” Even so, plan we do. A week ago I went camping on Lanai with my friend Claire. The 9:00 a.m. ferry ride over was blissful. We sat on the top deck and cruised with the cool ocean spray kissing our faces and the crisp sea breeze blowing our hair. What a view—watching the West Maui Mountains disappear and the Lahaina Harbor grow smaller and smaller until it practically faded away.

We were going to take just a day trip over but when I relayed my fear of ferrying back in the late afternoon choppy conditions, Claire agreed to camp over for one night. It turned out to be a great choice having nothing to do with my original reason.

The moment we started putting up the tent, we both knew we would stay for two. It would have been a lot of work for one night and it was so beautiful. The campground is in a park-like setting a short walk from the bay. The ground’s caretakers were friendly and the facilities were spotless.  There were even orchids in planters outside the bathroom. Though the weather was touch and go, snorkeling in the beautiful bay, the great walks along the cliffs, the quaint city of Lanai and the luxurious Four Seasons Hotel within walking distance made up for any discomfort.

The second afternoon we ran into a woman who was making her way to the ferry. She expressed her concern referencing the winds that had picked up in the past few hours. I offered her my advice about eating ginger ½ hour before boarding and secretly congratulated myself for choosing a morning departure. Life, however, had a surprise in store for me the following morning and a smooth ride back wasn’t it.

The winds continued to pickup during the night. When Claire and I were ready to leave, even the water in Manele Bay donned white caps. I had to teach the following day so waiting for smoother seas wasn’t an option. We walked toward the harbor and Claire put out her hand for the infamous ginger.  “Just in case,” she said with a smile.

Same as the way over, Claire and I made our way to the top deck. I always preferred the fresh air to the inside cabins. It seemed to help ward off nausea. We were barely seated when one of the crew climbed the metal staircase to greet us. Instead of the welcome aboard he announced, “There’ll be no outside seating due to weather conditions.” Disappointed, many of us questioned him airing our strong preferences. “Believe me,” he assured us, “you’ll be thanking me in the end.” Then came the captain’s broadcast over the loudspeaker. “ We’re in for a rough ride. Everyone take a seat inside the cabins and stay seated. Those with a tendency toward seasickness may want to sit on the bottom level at the rear of the boat.” I took a deep breath, gave Claire an apprehensive look and we descended the staircase for the lower deck. I sat down and turned sideways so I could grip the high backs of both my seat and the one in front of me.

As we departed the dock, paper bags were handed out to those who thought they might need one. “Thank God it only takes 45 minutes,” I whispered to Claire. She looked at me sympathetically. Unlike me, she had no fear of the sea and even enjoyed a bit of a rough ride. I saw other concerned faces when I glanced around the cabin. I felt sorry for those who like myself had a propensity toward seasickness.

I tightened my grip as the ferry took off.  It bobbed forward and back, side to side slapping the water repeatedly as it rode the waves. The immediate tossing about was discouraging as we were still partially protected in the bay and hadn’t yet entered the open seas. My greatest nightmare was becoming a reality.

“Look at the height of that spray,” exclaimed Claire excitedly, attempting some small talk. I could tell she wanted to make me feel better but I had enough on my hands. “I’m doing all I can do to manage my fear,” I said loudly as I let out a deep breath with each rise and crashing decent. The sound of the boat hitting the water was deafening. I was beginning to feel the tension building in my arms and shoulders as conditions worsened.

After about fifteen minutes of intense rocking and rolling and bouncing around, I had the realization that I wasn’t the slightest bit nauseous. That alone seemed like a miracle. The ginger was working. I began to wonder if I could relax my body. I consciously dropped my shoulders and released my now tired hip and leg muscles. Even sitting down they were working overtime. With the next rise, we smacked hard on the water. Still, I loosened my grip on the seats. I began to wonder what it would be like to just sit with my hands in my lap. Taking it slowly, I let go with my left hand and tried to stay relaxed while wincing as the boat took another big wave. That wasn’t so bad, I admitted to myself.

Then another thought entered my mind. Could I enjoy the ride? I sat with that thought thinking about when I was about five or six. My parents would take my sisters and me to the amusement park on Sundays.  Riding the carousel I would call out “Look mom, one hand” as I held on with one and waved the other. I slowly dropped my second arm to my side and allowed my body to roll with the motion of the sea. Amazed, I looked at Claire and said, “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I think I’ve managed my fear?

“How’d you do that?” she questioned. “Well,” I replied, “once I realized I wasn’t feeling sick at all, I knew I just had to deal with my fear. That was easier than having to be with both the physical and emotional discomfort. I became aware that my fear was just my apprehension to being physically uncomfortable. Once that wasn’t a factor, there didn’t seem to be that much to be afraid of.”

All the spiritual teachers say that if you have a fear, meet it head on and go into it. Don’t try to resist. Meting it head on, I realized what I actually feared wasn’t happening anywhere but in my mind. I couldn’t have talked myself out of the fear. I had to actually experience that what I was afraid would happen, wasn’t occurring.

I can’t say I will fearlessly run toward the next boat heading out on a stormy sea, but the experience of consciously managing my fear changed my orientation and had a tremendous impact on me.

The ride was perfectly orchestrated. Am I really surprised?

Published by the Maui Weekly Blog