Ocean of Insight: A Sailor's Voyage from Despair to Hope

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About Ocean Of Insight: A Sailor's Voyage From Despair To

Product Description Heather Lyn Mann was a battle–weary environmental advocate in Madison, Wisconsin, struggling over what to do about climate change when she and her husband decided to explore the Atlantic on a small sloop. This memoir of six years living afloat is a chronological unfolding of disasters and discoveries—life–threatening storms, the boredom of isolation, societies on the brink of extinction, sinking ships, colorful Caribbean characters, near collisions, a pirate scare, and more. Throughout, the ocean becomes Mann’s teacher, transforming her with uncompromising lessons on how to harmonize with natural order, the exact moments and ways to let in fearlessness, resilience, happiness, impermanence, balance, compassion, skillful action, and beginner’s mind.  Her suspenseful, sometimes hilarious, and always heart–warming journey of body and mind, shaped by ancient Buddhist teachings, entertains as it charts reality’s depths and danger zones so arm–chair adventurers, spiritual seekers, and the climate concerned can navigate tumultuous waters and arrive together on the shore of planetary well–being. About the Author Spiritual Ecologist Heather Lyn Mann is a practitioner of Buddhism, sailing, and mindful advocacy. Mann founded and led the not-for-profit Center for Resilient Cities—an organization mobilizing inner–city residents to restore natural beauty and function in damaged neighborhood landscapes. She also co–edits  Touching the Earth: A Newsletter of Earth Holding Actions in the Plum Village Tradition.  In 2007, together with her husband and cat, Mann set sail on a 15,000–nautical–mile, six–year voyage. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 1. FEAR Tilloo Cay, Abaco Islands—Bahamas December 31, 2008 I look upon the jagged shore to calculate the time until impact. It’s difficult to know exactly because the anchors scrape the ocean floor, slowing our approach. The storm is building. Waves slam against the bow and drive us backward. The ship’s engine picked this moment to stop functioning, so Dave and I are suddenly, inexplicably, without power. The sun is slipping low and soon we will be without light. I sailed my ship, Wild Hair, to this spot because I wanted lobster from the reef for a New Year’s dinner. But this is a place of peril in a gale––especially with a busted throttle cable. Now I am exposed, disabled, at risk of losing my ship, and maybe my life. A primal panic starts simmering at the base of my spine. It wraps my intestines. My limbs feel thick as logs and my thoughts are slow; they roll into consciousness with the speed of old movie credits. Usually, I’m a quick thinker with good judgment, but fear is turning me into a sluggish animal—a bear sliding into hibernation. “Wind, please stop blowing,” I whisper. A cold blast strong enough to make me stagger in place is the answer. Wishful thinking is my problem. The promise of buttered seafood seduced me into believing the wind and sea wouldn’t turn foul until late in the evening, the storm would come more from the northeast, and this lobster-peppered harbor would remain flat. In reality, the fifty-four-degree cold front textures my flesh with goose bumps and shoves the boat toward ruin. The sky and ocean froth in a matching Soviet color palette. I don’t know what to do.