As a school aged girl our family had a small boat that we enjoyed for many years. I learned to fish, got a boating license and spent many summers cleaning and caring for that boat. It was just big enough for our family of four to live on for a few days at a time.

I remember taking that boat up to Canada, lake by lake, canal lock by canal lock. The morning sun would wake us and the slow, gentle rocking of the boat was like the steady flow of life energy through our bodies. Of course, there were also storms. Plenty of wind, rain, and huge waves to rock us until we were “sea” sick. But gentle, or stormy we were safe. We were together. We were present.

We routinely took that boat to different places, and once we found the perfect spot, we threw an anchor off the stern to keep us from drifting. It was a security mechanism, knowing that a steady connection to the bottom of the sea would be needed to maintain our location.

Once settled, we would swim, fish, listen to music and cook. We dropped that anchor, and went about the business of enjoying ourselves, without the fear of being blown into rocks, debris or even other boats. The anchor provided the stability of knowing the boat would move with the surface of the water and its wake, but the foundation of our location was secure. At its core, the boat was not moving.

As we transition into summer and slowly to let go of COVID restrictions, post pandemic seclusion and isolation, it might be a good time to re-visit our own personal anchor mechanisms. We know we will move on the surface, with the daily comings and goings of “good” and “bad” news, growth and defeat, opportunities, threats and even miracles.

But how do we stay anchored? What keeps us from losing our security mechanism, and provides the safety we need so we don’t hit the rocks or capsize?

The answers may vary as widely as do the idiosyncratic personalities that populate our communities. But we all need a way to stay secure, not one that imprisons us, or keeps us rigid and unable to move with the tides. But one that protects us at our core. Our anchor provides us with the confidence (self trust) that whatever the current might be today, our boat is immovable.

Some of my anchors are sleep, exercise, nutrition and meditation. Faith, rituals and spending time with Zach also keep me “anchored.” The mechanisms are less important than their purpose. What are the ways that you keep from drifting into rocks or other boats? Might now be a good time to see which ones are working and which anchors may be dropped in the less than optimal locations?

If you find yourself stuck, pull the anchor and find the next best location to secure yourself. The anchor itself is not as important as is the confidence that no matter what the weather holds, your boat will not drift into destruction.

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