What the Sea Teaches Us About Navigating Life’s Unknowns

“Here be dragons” appeared on a globe in the sixteenth centurywhen no explanation could be given of what lies beyond the edgeof the known ocean. Sailors and explorers were the astronauts oftheir time, venturing to faraway places and bringing back tales ofwhat they had found.

One of those explorers stopped in the Canary Islands off thecoast of West Africa for supplies before venturing across the AtlanticOcean. A small, unassuming chapel in Las Palmas, on one of the primary islands, bears a plaque by the double wooden doors. In Spanishit reads “In this holy place Columbus prayed.” I stood next to the signand had my picture taken, as many tourists do, and tried to imaginewhat he prayed that night before setting sail into the unknown.

During my stay on the Canary Islands, my girlfriends and Iwere invited to visit the modest home of a flamenco dancer wholived by the beach. She went swimming in the ocean every day,and we were told to come after her morning dip. As we walkedto her home, we paused to study a statue. As I took in the determined expression on the woman’s face, I imagined her to be the wife of aseaman because of the way she stood with hands on her hips, scanningthe horizon, trying to catch a glimpse of her husband’s ship returningto port. I wondered what the woman prayed while her love was away.

On arriving at the house, we noted that our seventy-two-year-old hostess had pushed back the furniture on her uneven tile floor.To our delight, she offered my friends and me a dance lesson.

“Stand up straight,” our instructor said in Spanish. “One handon your hip, the other in the air.”

She demonstrated so that, even if we didn’t know the Spanishterms, we would be able to imitate her.

“Chin up. Shoulders back.” She struck a dramatic pose.

“Right foot, left foot. Again.”

Stand up straight. One hand on your hip, the other in the air.Chin up. Shoulders back. Right foot, left foot. Again.

She watched as we repeated the steps and then shook her head.“No, no, no.” Her finger was pointed at me.

“From the stomach up. You must feel it. Here. Like this. Youmust dance from the stomach up.”

We tried again.

She singled me out and asked how old I was.

“Fifty,” I told her.

She shook her head, clucked her tongue, and uttered a string ofsentences that were beyond my ability to understand with my highschool Spanish.

My friend translated. “She says that because you are only fifty,that is the problem. You are not old enough to dance flamenco. Nowoman can really dance flamenco until she is over sixty. This isbecause they have not lived enough, loved enough, or lost enoughto dance from the stomach up.”

The statue of the seafarer’s wife came to mind. Like the uncharted sea, life and all its unknowns lie before all of us. Whetherwe are standing on the shore with hands on our hips, watching andwaiting, or we are the ones braving the wild ocean, we are createdto take risks and live fully that we might experience the exquisiteemotions that come from fully living, loving, and losing.

Since that day, I have often thought of the words of our danceinstructor. Especially around my birthday, when I’m about to addanother year to the count. She convinced me that I did not want tospend any of my days trapped by a looming fear that “beyond herebe dragons.” Whenever I face an unknown or daunting challenge, Iwant to set sail through it with the intent of learning how to dancefrom the stomach up.

I also took to heart the message I read on the simple plaque bythe door of the Las Palmas chapel. The best way to start a journey,whether on the shore or on the waves, is always with a prayer.

Dragons, lurking in the unknown, whether real or imagined, canbe slain.