I’ve mentioned The Wandering Monk. He’s a handyman recently in our area who came well recommended and is living up to his reputation. He’s more skilled, conscientious, and reliable than Handyman Mike and charges substantially less. He makes difficult things simple and is pleasant to have around. Quite full of himself at times. But a really decent 39-year-old guy with a lot of experience behind him.
I plan no big house projects this year, but I’ve been bringing the Monk in on a number of small ones — partly because I can afford him, but partly (alas) because he is a wanderer and it’s been clear to me from the beginning that he’s likely to wander out of the area just as suddenly and capriciously as he wandered in. I want to get as much from his talents as I can before he drifts away.
He’s very religious and talks a lot about God. But being Catholic, and being kind of a happy wanderer, his approach is very different than some I’ve run into (who all too often figuratively slam me against the wall and threaten me with “Jesus or else” — and seem to enjoy the prospect of “or else” far more than a decent person should). I enjoy talking with him. Mostly.
A few days ago, though, he announced his tentative plan for wandering. Just as God sent him “west” a couple of seasons ago from Michigan, God has now told him “south.” (I suspect that dreary winter we just finished said “south” more loudly than God did, but then, I’m prejudiced.)
But not just “south.” He described a detailed plan to sail south. From here to Baja California. And from Baja (depending on what God says next) either through the Panama Canal, across the Atlantic, and into the Mediterranean or across the Pacific. Maybe to Bali.
“Have you ever done any ocean sailing?”
“No. I’ve read seven or eight books, though. And the friend I live with has a boat. I’ve been on that.” (I got the sense, though I don’t recall him saying it directly, that he’d buy his friend’s boat for this venture.)
I told him about friends and acquaintances, serious, experienced ocean sailors, who still either damn near died or were forced back to port by anything from curious gray whales to malfunctioning machinery. People who knew what they were doing and ended up defeated. Or at least scared out of their wits. (I know some of you readers are experienced ocean sailors; feel free to chime in in comments.)
“But I have faith,” he said. “So God will take care of me.”
As to preparation, he opined that he’d probably take a month off and get used to living on the boat in the local harbor before heading south. Crossing the bar from there into the ocean would be tough and scary, but after that …
He went on to explain that as long as he left here in time to make it to Los Angeles by Thanksgiving, he’d be traveling in a window where there were almost never any storms. I was too gobsmacked to think of asking if he’d ever heard of the Columbus Day Storm, which no northwesterner can escape knowing about, even though most around weren’t alive to be blown by it.
I knew I couldn’t talk him out of it. My guess is that one bad day at sea — or even one not-so-bad day where he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing — will do all the talking needed. I know he’s going to follow his inner voices wherever they lead. I told him I’d throw flowers in the ocean for his memorial when they lead him to the bottom of the sea.
If I gave him my copy of Into the Wild I wonder if he’d recognize himself in Chris McCandless? Bet not. McCandless, he’d point out, wasn’t following God’s will, just his own.
But I was stunned that even a Wandering Monk would feel no need to get any oceangoing experience at the side of lifelong sailors before planning an ocean trip.
He just so convinced God will take care of all those details.
And of course, God does have a reputation for being rather fond of holy fools and quite frequently stepping in to save them from themselves.
Never mind that that reputation is based on a handful of happy-ending tales and disregards the thousands, if not millions, of happy, holy fools who’ve died ignominously and been forgotten.
“Yeah, but adventures can’t happen if you sit on your ass,” The Monk protested to my protestations.
“Yes, but successful adventures usually begin with knowing what you’re doing and preparing as well as possible for what you’ll face.”
This notion he pooh-poohed. He has faith and therefore God will keep him safe.
Me, I think real faith would be spending a couple of years studying with master navigators and sailing at the side of experienced sailors, then saying, “God, I’ve done all I humanly can and now I’m about to venture out onto your vast and terrifying ocean to follow where your voice leads. I have faith you’ll help me get through the things I couldn’t anticipate and can’t know.”
This? I think it’s the theological equivalent of “Here. Hold my beer and watch this.”
But then, I’m the cautious sort who wouldn’t even think about setting off by myself in a boat for Baja. And if faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains, then the size of my faith might be good for moving one grain of sand (if I also cheated and pushed the grain of sand with my finger when nobody was looking).
What do you think? Faith beyond my understanding? All-out folly born of hubris? Something entirely different?
Sailing is the art of getting wet and catching cold while slowly going nowhere at great expense.
I’m a small-boat sailor, racing dinghies and little daysailers, but even they can bite if you let them. I suspect God helps those who help themselves, and learning and preparing is helping yourself. Your friend sounds rather like the man who, when asked if he played the violin, replied “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” Misery is having nothing on the horizon but horizon, just after a sudden squall carries your mast (and radio antennae and radar reflector) away.
Try to convince him to borrow or rent a boat in the size range he wants for local weekend trips before investing in his own. Liveaboard comfort increases with length and beam, but so does complexity and difficulty to singlehand. Ocean passages on small sailboats take a long time, require considerable stores and everything is damp all the time. You have to sleep sometime, and while you’re sleeping your course is being held by a simpleminded mechanical idiot that can’t read depth markings on charts, in an ocean full of floating containers, rogue soliton waves, and Liberian-registered tankers whose crews put their ship on autopilot after clearing port and retire below to play cards.
It’s a very romantic dream, and one I’ve held myself, but the truth is, successful, surviving blue-water singlehand sailors are meticulous, prepared, experienced rich masochists.
It’s a dream, and he’s a dreamer, he’s getting restless, and can’t think of anything else he wants to do – maybe has always wanted to do it, and feels age catching up to him. It sounds like both faith AND folly to me. You better get all you can out of him while he’s still around, Claire. (OTOH, he might get his wake-up call going to Baja, and God or reason might tell him something else to do.)
“…will take care of him…”
I always wondered just what people actually think that means. Given a moment’s thought… they should realize that everyone who believed that in the past is just as dead as those who did not believe it. Or will be eventually, no matter how saintly or evil. We have no proof to the contrary, so belief in an “eternal life” after earthly death is merely supposition without anything to back it up – no matter how strongly one may believe it.
It’s no skin off my nose what others believe, of course. Aside from the truly risky attempt to slam my back to a wall and threaten me with anything… people are going to do what they’re going to do. I remember so well the last pair of JWs who knocked on my door… and turned away without a word when they saw the gun on my hip. I didn’t say anything either, just shut the door. [grin]
But it will be terrible to lose a good handy man, for sure. And it sounds as if that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Me? I’d start looking for a replacement right now. ๐ If he gets his “wakeup call” soon enough, he may come back. Then you’d have two, maybe. ๐
As a sailor once said, “The Difference between adventure and an ordeal is attitude.”.
Claire, since it sound west coast, he can always look towards the Baja Ha Ha rally that happens I believe in October. Chance to sail.
Love his attitude and admire his wanderlust.
Joe
Yes, absolutely use him as much as you can before he goes (which could mean a couple of things). He’s on a continual quest to find himself, which in principle I view as admirable. Jungians call this process individuation. And water represents the unconscious, making it a great attraction. I would agree that encouraging him to make some reasonable test run before trying the big one would be the most helpful advice you could provide. If he forces religion into the discussion again, you could simply ask him if he believes God is providing him with an opportunity to make that choice. His reading books about sailing strikes me as similar to reading books about self defense and expecting to know how to do it without training or practice. Although many years ago, I did hear a story of a man who had taken a sailboat on an ocean voyage without prior training and did it successfully, but that man had done many crazy things, including driving a Fiat Spider across the Sudan (lots of digging involved, I was told).
I once lived with several other people, one of whom built a 49′ ferro-cement sailboat in the back yard. He got it to the water and apparently finished it. Rumor had it that he was in serious trouble with the IRS. He and the boat disappeared. Among his life goals was to found (his last name here)-ania. I wasn’t going there. Still wonder what happened in the end. His name is too common to have any luck with an internet search, which I’ve briefly tried.
I think he has all three; his faith is folly and has led him squarely into hubris. It will be a shame to lose a talented mechanic but his stubborn nature will not let him be convinced until, maybe, he is facing death and by then it may be too late.
I have hated boats and the water all my life. My Sicilian born grandfather used to take me and my cousin out on a party boat from Atlantic City New Jersey at least once every summer but it never felt right. In recent years friends have said that my wife and I should go on a cruise. “But it is a boat”, I said. “No Vince, it is a SHIP!”, they said. “But it still goes in the water, right?” Then I saw on the news where some huge cruise ship, Carnival, I think broke down on the water. So called vacation turned to instant horror. Poop on the poop decks, dehydration and the same helplessness the Monk may experience only without all the company.
Tell the Monk that God also doesn’t suffer fools gladly.
I think (from 28 years experience in professional boating in both motor driven and sail powered vessels) that Vince has the correct opinion of your “wandering monk”.
While I am not afraid of water (even huge angry oceans) I do very much respect the power that they hold.
For a person to singlehand down the west coast without training in navigation, including set and drift computations is truly folly of the highest order.
Although … there is the true story of the college grads who “borrowed” Dad’s sailboat stocked it with canned goods and bottled water and sailed to the Hawaiian Islands using an Atlas as a chart and a pocket sized transistor radio as their navigation tools. In the 1960’s if memory serves?
They did make it but only barely.
I have made several open ocean long transits but I always took a crew person along for the company and to allow me to sleep for at least four hours in the middle of the day. That gave me the long dark nights to be the educated, responsible helmsman when and if any sort of “close quarters” situation transpires.
I personally put my faith in experience and training rather than a belief system which requires one to surrender all reasoning, training and experience.
“All-out folly born of blind faith and hubris?” Is my guess.
I’m quite comfortable on the waters of southeast Alaska. But that means I know better than to be out there during winter months, with some exceptions, and one must always keep an eye out for the quickest way to get ashore, any month. The careless are lost every year. Living farther south at the moment, I’m happy enough walking the beaches and coastal trails–I know damn well I know nothing at all about being out there on the open ocean. Tell that to your helper? Might as well try to tell someone that nothing good comes from guv.
The reason I don’t always act like a Christian, is the reason I are one.
Prior service in the New World Order’s American Royal Navy and a believer. I’m pretty sure this guy has no idea of the power of the the ocean. It can not be overstated, it is ruthless. The things I’ve seen. The most advanced, globally networked, modern fighting ships with the most experienced, seasoned, professional crews with thousands of combined years of expertise on board don’t just put to sea. G-d gave us faith and a brain. We should use both.
Here’s why the left is called port and right is called starboard; because back in the day, the English sailors headed south, to the Med and Africa, on trade routes never let the shore (ports) out of their sight. Those guys weren’t chumps, they were smart. G-d gave us faith and a brain. We should use both.
Your friend reminds me of the tale told about the man of faith during a flood.
As the waters are rising, and he is watching from his porch, a police car stops and says “The roads will soon be flooded. Come on, we’ll take you out of here.” He replies “No, thanks, God will provide.”
The waters continue to rise, and soon a boat comes by and offers him a ride to safety. He replies “No, thanks, God will provide.”
It’s a big flood. Before long he’s sitting on his roof, and a helicopter comes by and shouts down that they can carry him to safety. He replies “No, thanks, God will provide.”
The waters continue to rise, and he drowns. At the entrance to heaven, he encounters God, and asks, “My Lord, I was unwavering in my faith. Why did you not provide for me?”
God replies: “I provided a car, a boat, and a helicopter. What more could you want?”
Dang, Brad. You beat me to it.
I teach Hunter Education, part of which is survival. Every year we hear of people who get in trouble on dry land sometimes within a mile or so of civilization. Some survive, some don’t.
Besides knowledge (What Monk got from the books) you need skill and attitude. Skill you learn by practicing with the tools you have. Practicing “sailing” during a month sitting in a bay isn’t near enough preparation for sailing down the coast during a “window” where there aren’t usually big storms. (Dunno what God will do for Monk, but I bet Murphy shows up.)
Attitude? Let’s just say “God will provide whatever I don’t think of” isn’t dependable.
Experience is a hard teacher, but fools will have no other.
Tell the Wondering Monk…
What comes to mind first is the famous passage from Matthew where Satan quotes Psalm 91 to Jesus, and Jesus responds by quoting Deuteronomy 6:16 back to Satan:
Then the devil taketh him up into the holy city, and setteth him on a pinnacle of the temple, And saith unto him, If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning thee: and in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone. Jesus said unto him, It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God. (Matt 4:5-7)
And tell the Monk that he is called by God to humble…
But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble. (James 4:6)
Surely he scorneth the scorners: but he giveth grace unto the lowly. (Proverbs 3:34)
A fool hath no delight in understanding, but that his heart may discover itself. (Proverbs 18:2)
BUT, if in all humility having emptied himself (c.f. Philippians 2:7) and with all sufficient wisdom (c.f. Proverbs 9:6-11) the Monk sets sail, let there be no fear of death…
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (Philippians 1:21)
And let the rest of us remember…
And now I say unto you, Refrain from these men, and let them alone: for if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought: But if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight against God. (Acts 5:38-39)
And, you, personally Claire, ought indeed “to get as much from his talents as [you] can before he drifts away.” The question, though, is which talents? ๐
Excellent scriptures all, Dana, and I have no doubt you could deploy them expertly.
OTOH I would never recommend anyone go into a debate, fight, or other conflict relying on tools they aren’t stone familiar with, be they arguments or firearms.
(Whereupon I’m walking way out on a limb and presuming Claire doesn’t engage in many Biblical debates.)
Good comments above. I, too, am a small boat sailor. Dinghies and a 26′ keelboat. Strictly inland lakes. The Monk will need to be proficient in basic seamanship to keep his boat safe, and he’ll need some experience with navigating to find Baja. Or shelter from an incoming storm. Everything looks different from the water. and when God tells him to head for shore, he may find it a daunting task to identify a safe place to park during a blow. (It is said that water doesn’t sink boats, hard objects in the water do.)
I suspect that he, like me, enjoys the sense of discovery that comes from learning by self-study and personal experience. In other words, he’s not one to take advice.
The good news is that men have been sailing for thousands of years and along the way sailboat designers have made them pretty safe for even the most hard-headed do-it-yourselfer. That’s not to say seamanship is not needed…it definitely is….but that the modern sailboat is more forgiving than in days of yore. The safety stats on sailboats are pretty impressive. Not so much for power boats. (For some cold comfort, watch “All Is Lost” with Robert Redford.)
I wish him well, but more than anything, I wish he’d get good training and experience before taking on the Pacific. Ditto on all the comments above.
Hi Claire. From my christian perspective, I think you are right. I think it is the theological equivalent of “hold my beer and watch this” (very funny by the way). I appreciate his free spirit though. I think that faith is allowing your will to be subject to God’s will for your life, not making random choices and hoping God will always pull you out of your mistakes.
What Fred said.
The guy is as poor a theologian as he is a sailor. I doubt the fishermen in Our Lord’s posse would be impressed with his plan.
The believers who designed, funded and built cathedrals, hospitals and universities didn’t just “wing it”. I’m not sure if his type of anti-intellectualism is a trait found only in American Christendom, but I’m always a bit embarrassed and/or exasperated when I come across it.
At first glance it’s a bit easy to be envious of those who float through life Dude-like with minimal responsibilities to attend to. Upon closer inspection however, serious cracks become apparent in their worldview. And they typically wind up hurting others sooner or later through neglecting to take things a bit more seriously.