An Ode to Belonging

You see, the ocean doesn’t ask who you are. It does not care where you have been, what mistakes you have made, or what names you have answered to before. It knows only movement. Wind pulling water, water pulling sky, a force that does not stop for doubt, hesitation, or anything in between.

And so, you learn.

Not in books, not in stories, but in the way your body leans into the wind without thinking. In the way your hands blister and heal, until the lines slip through your fingers like they were always meant to be there.

a sunrise like no other

The first storm does not ask if you are ready. It comes without ceremony, without waiting for your permission.The sails snap like thunder, the bow heaves, and for a moment, you are weightless. Not flying, not falling, just caught in the space between fear and control.

This is where you learn who you are.

Not in calm waters, not in soft breezes, but in the fight. In the moment your body tells you to hold back, and you step forward anyway. In the burn of muscles that refuse to give up, in the breath you steal between waves, in the silence between the wind’s howls where you realize you are still standing.

A view of my home in all her glory

There is no audience out here. No applause, no judgment. Only the quiet approval of the waves as they roll beneath you, only the sound of your own breath as you tighten the lines, as you move with purpose, not because anyone is watching, but because this is what it means to belong to yourself. Nothing more, and nothing less.

The ocean will never call you by name. It will not praise you when you get it right, nor scold you when you fail. It asks only one thing: to keep going.

And so you do.

The days stretch long, the horizon unmoving, but you stop waiting for landmarks, stop measuring distance in nautical miles. Instead, you count by the rhythm of the sea, by the wind’s shifting weight, by the pull of the current beneath the hull.

You wake.

You work.

You listen.

You learn that silence is not empty. That it holds the sound of breath and heartbeat, the creak of the deck, the whistle of wind, the unspoken language of the sea as it tests you, teaches you, makes space for you among its endless motion.

And somewhere in that stillness or lack thereof, you start to hear yourself again.

Not the self shaped by expectation, by the echoes of others’ voices, by the rules written on the shores you left behind.But the self that does not shrink, does not bend, does not ask for permission to exist.

The sun rises and falls, the days blur, and when you look in the mirror of the water,

you see someone you recognize. Not because they have changed, but because they are finally whole.

And then, one night, standing alone at the helm, the stars so bright they seem endless, the water stretching black and silent beneath you, you feel it: the thing you did not know you were searching for.

Working in the rigging of the Alex-2

It is not a destination. Not a finish line, not a flag planted on some distant shore. It is not even an answer.

It is this:

The knowing that you don’t owe anything to anyone but yourself. That you are not waiting to become anything more than what you already are. That the ocean does not shape you, it only strips away what is not true, until all that remains is the person who was always meant to be here.

And that is enough.

The Alex has been a place of comfort, of reason, and of growth for me and so many other individuals alike. It has shown me what a family you choose can really look like and most importantly, it has helped me to find something where I truly feel like I belong. As I sit here in my bunk writing this as the waves thrust the ship left and right, something primordial within me feels complete. Each storm teaches me new learnings, each watch reminds me why I do this, and each sunset I witness inspires me to continue getting out into the world and finding what makes me happy.

Some of the views of beautiful Cuba

So, for this 20th lap around the sun, I seek one thing: to inspire myself. Whether that be on the Alex, in new hobbies, or in simply stepping outside of the box and doing something different each and every day, I will do just such. There is no time in this world to do anything but what you love.