Roll With the Ship

On our recent trip to Antarctica, we travelled on a small research ship, the Spirit of Enderby. A strong and resilient vessel, she brought us through the tough seas of the sub-Antarctic ocean, substantial pack ice, and into places a large cruise ship could never enter. 

Our cabin consisted of a sleeping berth tucked into a closet-like enclosure, which we quickly learned to love, as it kept us from being tossed out of bed in times of heavy weather! As the ship rolled, we went from hitting our heads on one bulkhead to bracing our feet against the opposite. When it pitched, we became human rolling pins, side to side. After awhile, we had cores of steel!

During the first few days, we worked to accustom ourselves to the constant motion of the ship. Walking taught us the origin of the “drunken sailor” saying, as we obeyed commands to keep “one hand for yourself, one hand for the ship.” This meant always to hold on to a rail or wall, and not carry anything with two hands. 

Sea sickness plagued many of our fellow passengers. We learned what worked for us (pressure bands, Bonine on the really bad days, and ginger lozenges). 

We learned never to fill coffee cups more than half way, and to seize any reasonably calm sea for the opportunity to shower without being thrown around on a naked bruise-hunting mission. We learned to walk. We learned to brace. We learned to live with the motion.

After awhile, we learned the real lesson: The ship is going to roll, so we might as well roll with it. There's nothing you can do about it anyway! 

And isn’t this lesson transferrable to real life and business? Sometimes storms come, and strong winds nearly blow you off your feet. Fighting the them results in sickness and stress, where rolling with them develops strong core muscles and greater balance. When the roll gets really bad, there's nothing for it but to tie yourself down and rest, meditate, or listen to a good book.

Ultimately, if we stay on dry land, we avoid the discomfort and challenge presented by stormy seas. But we also miss out on the adventure, and on the joyful discoveries of the journey and its destination. So I pick the ship. Always.

Things Are Not Always What They Seem!

Lessons from Antarctica, Part 3

We shared our flight to Invercargill with a tiny, bedraggled, elderly lady sporting a ruffled scrunchy and pink hair. I am ashamed to admit to inner eyebrow raising. She is now one of my favorite people on earth, a phenomenally gifted and successful sculptor and painter from Ireland with a lively wit and a very warm heart. 

I’m ashamed of my initial assessment, and must admit that my own appearance likely could have been more polished on that day. Beth was my first “things are not always what they seem” experience in Antarctica. 

There was also the hut at Cape Evans once occupied by Robert Falcon Scott in his effort to be the first to reach the South Pole. Scott's McMurdo hut is so much more than the remains of a camping trip. It offers history and lessons in the results of grandiosity. I spent much time pondering these.

And, the dead seal that wasn’t. As I leaned down for a closer look at this sofa-sized pile of fat and fur, it raised its head and barked its bestial bad breath right in my face!

Many of us learn over time not to take things at face value. Then we forget!

Antarctica gave me a fresh reminder to bring this caution to work with me. As a Benefit Auctioneer, my events usually involve fancy dresses and sparkly shoes. But I do one auction where the bidders show up in jeans, camo and well worn boots… and pay for their items with rolls of $100 bills. It’s one of my favorite events, because the crowd is so much fun.

Our awesome veterinarian, Dr. David Cloutier, mentioned to me once that he always asks to take on the difficult pet owners in his large practice. He’s learned that their attitude often reflects a total devotion to the welfare of their pets, sometimes moreso than the compliant people who do whatever is recommended without question.

I need to keep all these moments in mind as I go through work and life. Beth walks beside me every day now, in my heart. So does that seal!

Lessons from Antarctica: 2. Slow Down!

I'm always in a hurry, have so much to do, so little time. Yet In Antarctica, time just abides. Let me try to explain. 

Have you ever had the experience of going on a vacation, whether a relaxing week at the beach or an adventure-filled camping or skiing trip, only to find the week or two gone before you know it? You’ve had a great time, but, especially at the halfway mark, time speeds up.

In Antarctica, time takes on the opposite quality. It rests. It settles. It ceases to exist, at the same time that it becomes all.

For instance, whales: we saw them from time to time, sometimes in pods of 50 or more! Yet that seeing required time on the bridge, time with binoculars scanning the horizon for blows. 

Sometimes hours or even days passed with us seeing nothing but the waves and horizon. During that time, we would often find the giant Albatross and Petrels, who soar for hundreds and thousands of miles between land masses, stretching their wings to ride the currents of air, attuned to the nuance of the wind and waves.

That time offered its own reward: peace.

In my work and in my life, my default mode always has been speed. I pack as much as possible into every day. I schedule myself to the max, governed by the sense of passing time and an eagerness to be, do, experience it ALL. I drive fast cars and fast motorcycles. I drive them fast, on fast roads. I write fast. I talk fast (which is a good thing for an auctioneer after all).

Since Antarctica, I am learning to slow down, to let the peace of reflection and patience find its way into my days. By doing that, I have discovered new ways to look at challenges, keeping in mind the staggering beauty and immensity of the ice and the mountains and the water in a place where time stands still. 

I remember the whales.

Lessons from Antarctica: 1. Be Prepared!

While I’m a firm believer in keeping my work and my life in balance, my recent trip to Antarctica opened my mind to a new way of looking at how this balance can benefit my business. 

We were totally off the grid for 35 days, and only marginally on its edges for another 5. The distance freed me to look at life, and work, without the pressure of daily tasks and correspondence that get in the way of big picture thinking. 

My biggest takeaway was that, while it’s usually more effective to leave the office at the office, it can be tremendously enriching to bring “real life” to work! This series will explore some of the lessons I learned on that trip, and some others I am uncovering since our return. Here we go!

Be Prepared!

No matter how long it takes to put on layer upon layer of carefully selected clothing, and do it while precariously balanced on a deck that never stays flat, do it. 

On our first landing on one of the sub Antarctic islands, the sun was shining, the wind was calm, and a hike was planned. It never occurred to me to wear a raincoat or rainpants. But on reaching the bluff, the heavens opened up and the wind drove the icy rain harshly into my face. 

The next time, especially as we travelled further south, I was ready. Each morning as I leaned against the wall of my rolling cabin, I focussed not on the annoyance factor, but on the rich experiences in store that day. Layered up, I could go on that hike that suddenly presented itself. Yes, I could handle that wet zodiac landing without stress. 

The cold weather sucked the life out of camera batteries with relentless speed, so I learned to charge them all as soon as we returned to the ship, and to keep the fresh ones inside my clothing next to my body. In that way, I was able to capture forever the images of stunning majesty we encountered every day.

In business, readiness also pays off in possibility. Keeping my printed collateral up to date will pay off when I encounter a potential client. Practicing my elevator speech makes it easy and natural to talk to unanticipated prospects. Practicing my chant makes my auction delivery smooth and pleasing. Before Antarctica, I have to admit I would let these things slide in the face of more interesting or pressing demands on my time.

Now, I’m ready.