Getting closer to ground
And returning to the page again and again and again
This is Clouds Form Over Land, a newsletter written by Ashley Gremel about resilience, imperfectionism, and our relationship to the earth.
This time last year, we were tucking into Cartagena, Colombia for the winter.
A few weeks prior, my sailboat had come close to sinking fifty miles offshore of Panama. I had awoken for my night watch with water up to the floorboards, and after some troubleshooting, had halted the issue with the help of my husband, my heart, and a rolling pin. More on all of that here.
I’ve been struggling to show up and share my thoughts on this here stage.
Writing requires openness to whatever may flow in, and sharing requires certainty.
My thoughts often feel too sour or sweet, too tidy or messy, too this or too that.
I hoped to write and share straight through this huge shift from sea to land, to offer helpful tidbits about going one’s own pace, cultivating a relationship with the earth, and riding the tides of our lives.
I felt like an expert in this, having sailed a boat around a continent and endured every twist and turn, most in deep isolation with my husband and our cat. Instead, I’ve found that my physical reality and return to remote working has required everything I have to give, and often more. I am a different me than ever before and life remains just as lively and full of awe. I rarely have the clarity and calm that was so frequently present for me out at sea.
Most days I’m grateful to be weaving closer to others and land, but I also really miss my time in the big blue where it feels impossible not to locate oneself.
Any type of stillness requires a sort of openness to oneself and surroundings.
Meditating, gardening, walking, knitting, swimming, cooking, sailing. I love them all.
Last night I sewed an object for the first time in quite a while, a cloth bag for plastic bags in our upstairs bathroom for trash and kittie litter. Sitting down to create anything requires sticking with myself and seeing my results, not just what I hold in my mind’s eye or on my to-do list. I’d been feeling frustrated by this, clogged up and uncomfortable. Usually phoning a friend and organizing my supplies can clear the block, but when that doesn’t do it, the only option is to lower the bar. Enter, a bag for trash bags. Almost immediately upon playing with fabric, I had a lightning bolt of thoughts that felt true enough to share.
Things can change drastically for the better. It will require effort, plus help from many along the way. Last year I was saving our ship from sinking, this year I’m doting on us in the craft room. Circumstances can change. What are you dreaming of?
We have a few more calendars up for grabs. Reply to let me know if you’d like one!
Note: this whole post was an experiment in lowering the bar. I set a timer for an hour and told myself I’d send whatever came through.
Ashley it’s so interesting because I am still out at sea, but I am just now coming out of an entire year where I lacked the clarity and calm you reference here. In fact, I had to put my entire business on an unplanned sabbatical as I simply could not scrape together the space that creative work requires while also navigating all that life at sea requires. I resonate with the sense of being entirely consumed with just trying to maintain the basics of life and not feeling capable of much beyond that - thankfully, after quite a challenging year, here in San blas, things have (finally) begun to turn for me, as I’m sure they will for you, in due time. Happy new year to you both from panama!💫
Thank you for your insight. Remember, ebbs and flows.
I am practicing being in the now. Living with someone who has a chronic disease makes it difficult to plan ahead . Trying to be more spontaneous and not saying yes to activities too far in the future.
Happy New Year to you and Scott.