June 22, 2010
By Jenan Kharbush
Friday was an incredibly busy afternoon. With three different deployments and lots of sail handling, all of B watch was pretty tired by the end of it. Still, I think we handled everything admirably, and tasks were carried out efficiently. Our watch has really started to work well together, understanding each other's strengths and weaknesses, and offering to lend a hand when needed. It's hard to believe, considering we've only known each other for little more than a week.
But this is the key to life at sea: community. Everyone has a part to play, no matter how small it may seem at the time, to contribute to the overall function of the group. I'll admit that at times I feel a little like an extra in a movie, performing only small roles and getting in the way the rest of the time. At sea, however, you have to be able to put aside your own ego to really become a part of what is happening around you. In doing so, you become more aware of the needs of your shipmates, and most importantly, the needs of the ship. When you're virtually in the middle of nowhere, keeping the ship healthy and sailing happily onward is pretty important.
The community aboard a vessel can determine whether a 35-day stretch at sea is a tedious journey that seems to last forever or a unique, enjoyable experience that you happily revisit in your memory for years to come. It is challenging at first when you find yourself thrown together with people from different walks of life, but if you are flexible, you can really learn a lot from one another.
Proper communication helps in that process. Shipboard life has a language all its own, which can be confusing but is necessary in order for everyone to be on the same page. On deck, for example, things often have to be done quickly, with little room for error due to misunderstandings. From the start, we make sure to get in the habit of repeating commands given to us, so that everyone on deck knows that we heard what the person said. It gets to the point where we sit down to dinner, and someone says, "Pass the salt, please," and whoever has the salt repeats without thinking, "Passing the salt".
The sense of community at sea is what I love the most about sailing. I value the people I have met during my two experiences with SEA more than anything else. Such bonds are difficult to find in other environments and situations on land. And the funny thing is, as you let go of yourself in favor of paying attention to the stories others have to tell, you actually come to a new understanding of who you really are. And others around you are doing the same as you share your stories. When all the petty grievances and worries that followed you around back on land are stripped away, and you are finally alone on bow watch with only starlight, bioluminescence and the sound of the waves against the hull for company, a new understanding of yourself emerges. Maybe in the end it's only delirium from lack of sleep. But for me, the simultaneous feeling of being part of a community, yet more aware of my individuality than ever before, is what always makes me feel like singing when I'm alone on the bow.
