It starts with me as a low-level officer on a small cruise ship, like the Queen Mary. “Midshipman” might be the term. Bob, my employer at the time, was the captain. I talked to him about striking out on an adventure to test my skills. I left the ship and swam across a lagoon that was more like a swamp. An alligator came up and bit me on the side, and I felt physical pain that was real. I was afraid that I wasn’t up to the test and that I had made a mistake being so reckless, testing my skills for no real purpose. But just then, a thought from a deeper part of me reassured me that I was up to the test and that I should use the skills I had. I realized I wasn’t alone—there were others looking out for me. I was able to endure and escape unharmed by using the skills I had learned. As the alligator let go, I became aware of movement approaching, so I turned my head to see a rowboat with Bob, Todd my chiropractor, and a couple of other people coming near. One of them had a stick ready to fend off the alligator, but they hadn’t used it. They congratulated me on my success, and I asked how long they had been there. Bob answered that they had been watching out for me the entire time. I thanked them, and he asked if I was going to continue. I said yes. He told me they wouldn’t follow me any further but would keep me in their thoughts.
I continued to the shore and ended up on a beach. I turned back and saw the ship in the lagoon, surrounded by trees, with green water that reminded me of southern U.S. swamps I had seen in pictures. I had a thought that the water didn’t look deep enough for the ship and that it shouldn’t go further into the swamp. I walked along the small stretch of sand and saw a food stand with some people nearby. I walked over and talked to the man making food, and he asked if I had come from the ship. I said yes and that I had just swum over to look around. He said I was lucky to be associated with the ship and that he wished he could be part of it. I told him he could be, but he said no, that he had a different job keeping him on the beach.
I looked back at the ship with great admiration, but then I realized it was time for me to go out on my own. I felt a sense of loss, knowing I was leaving, even though I had learned what I needed. While there was more I could have learned, I had gotten what was necessary, and it was time to move on. I didn’t want to just leave, so I swam back. Even though it had been a short adventure, it felt like a long one, and there were already new crew members on board. I was welcomed aboard with respect, as if I were a ranking officer. I was surprised and didn’t feel I deserved it, but I went along with it. I cleaned up, put on a nice uniform, packed my bags, and told Bob of my decision to leave. He told me I could return anytime I wanted, with full honor. But I knew I wouldn’t return—the time for that part of my life was complete. Yet I was comforted to know I could always return to a place where I’d be accepted and had a role in the organization. It gave me confidence.
I thanked him, and he took me to a small boat—a new, powerful, fast, seaworthy runabout, just the right size. It had room for four people, even though it was just for me. Bob said, “Here is the boat you built.” I got in. I wasn’t surprised to have a boat of my own, for I knew I had built one, but I was happy it was bigger and nicer than I had expected. I had envisioned a small rowboat. I motored away and looked back at the ship. I realized how small my boat was compared to the ship and almost turned back. Then I thought, “This is my boat, and the ship is for many people to learn how to build their own boats.” So, I headed for a dock where my house was.
I tied up my boat, walked along the beach, and climbed up to my house on a bluff. When I reached the top, before entering, I turned to take in the view. I was horrified and scared to see that the entire horizon was in flames. The whole world was burning, and the flames were coming toward me. I looked from the fire to the land between and saw people in long lines, carrying their possessions, walking toward me. Then, I gained perspective on the distance and speed of the flames and realized I still had time. The refugees were almost to me, and I feared I would be trampled, but they were heading to the dock in a somewhat orderly fashion. I worried someone might take my boat and leave me stranded, but I saw many small boats coming to pick people up and take them over the horizon. I felt sad that so many people didn’t have their own boats and needed to be rescued, but then I realized they were not being abandoned; they were being saved, even if not in the way I would have chosen. I felt happy that I had built a beautiful, fast, and now seemingly large and comfortable boat. Another realization hit me: only I could use my boat.
I went into my house to gather my belongings and found my home was a mess—totally disorganized. Panic set in as I saw trash mixed with unimportant items, all tangled with my most valuable possessions. I realized that if I threw everything into the boxes there, I would never be able to carry it all, and there wasn’t enough space on the boat. I had to sort through it all and decide what to keep or leave behind. I wasn’t ready to leave it all behind; I knew some things were valuable, and I wanted to inspect them before making any decisions. I dropped to the floor, trying to sort through the mess, but I was falling into panic and despair at the thought of leaving everything behind unwillingly. Some things had value that I needed to keep, but it was all mixed in with junk and trash.
I decided to look and see how close the flames were. I stood up and looked out a window. The flames were still very far away, and I realized that if I worked hard, I would have just enough time to organize my things, discard the junk, and pack the valuables. As long as I kept working, I would have enough time. I turned back to the room and saw it was about five boxes of stuff, but the valuables would only fill one box. I had enough time and space for what was truly important, and I have a boat ready at the dock.