A yacht, if you’re wondering. A thirty-foot sloop bobbing in the expanse of the open sea. For three years, my life was guided by the weather and the tide. I was disconnected from land, living on a moving liquid world that never relented, not ever.
Most people live by clocks on dry, fixed ground.
They wake to alarms, commute to work, keep appointments, and measure their lives in hours and minutes. For a time, I lived differently. My schedule wasn’t dictated by a timepiece hanging on a wall. Instead, it was controlled by wind direction, tidal movement, approaching weather systems, and the amount of daylight left before sunset.
The sea doesn’t care about your plans.
If the weather turns foul, you wait. If the tide is against you, you wait. If the wind decides it wants to blow thirty knots directly into your destination, you adapt. Living aboard a yacht taught me patience because the ocean is completely indifferent to human schedules.
There’s a rhythm that beats like a heart, steady and unyielding. I sailed those waters for years, and in every crest and trough, I found both fear and comfort, a dance between the known and the unknown.
Even at anchor, the boat never truly stopped moving. Day and night, there was always some motion beneath my feet. A gentle rocking. A soft rise and fall. The occasional slap of water against the hull. Over time, those movements became so familiar that I stopped noticing them. I understood them.
What surprised me was what happened when I returned to land.
I would lie in bed inside a perfectly still room and feel as though something was missing. The absence of movement felt strange. Unnatural. My body had grown accustomed to the sea’s constant motion and expected it to continue.
As a sailor, I learned to read the language of the waves, to feel the pulse of the ocean beneath my vessel. The wind whispered secrets, carrying clues about what lay beyond the horizon and warnings about what might arrive later in the day.
You learn to pay attention.
A slight shift in the wind.
A line of clouds forming in the distance.
The colour of the water.
The behaviour of other boats.
These small observations become part of everyday life. They tell a story to those willing to listen.
In the calm embrace of a tranquil sea, there’s a serenity that washes over the soul like a gentle lullaby. The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves become a familiar melody, a comforting reminder of stability amidst chaos.
Those were the days I remember most fondly.
The yacht gliding effortlessly across open water.
The sun reflecting from the surface.
The horizon stretching endlessly in every direction.
No traffic.
No phones.
No urgency.
Just the sound of wind in the sails and water slipping past the hull.
In those moments, life became wonderfully simple.
Your concerns have been narrowed to the essentials.
Food.
Water.
Weather.
Navigation.
Shelter.
The distractions that seemed so important ashore suddenly felt distant and unimportant.
But with every calm comes a storm, and the ocean’s temper is a force to be reckoned with. When the winds howl and the waves rage, fear grips the heart like a vice. The rhythm becomes erratic, a symphony of chaos that threatens to swallow everything whole.
The sea has a remarkable ability to humble a person.
A yacht may feel sturdy and capable while tied safely in a marina, but out on open water, you quickly realise how small you really are. Nature always has the final say.
Storms demand respect.
Strong winds demand preparation.
Complacency is rarely rewarded.
Yet even during rough conditions, there is a strange beauty to be found. The power of the ocean commands attention. The sight of large waves rolling beneath the boat reminds you that you’re experiencing something far older and greater than yourself.
Through trial and tribulation, I learned to navigate those waters with a reverence born of both fear and awe. Each wave carried a story, a history as ancient as time itself. And though I may never fully understand the ocean’s depths, I came to appreciate the intricacies of its rhythm and the lessons hidden within it.
For in the rhythm of the sea, I found a reflection of life itself.
There were periods of calm and periods of chaos.
Days when everything flowed effortlessly and days when every task felt difficult.
Moments of certainty and moments of doubt.
The ocean mirrored all of it.
Perhaps that’s why those years remain so vivid in my memory. Living aboard a yacht wasn’t merely about sailing. It was about learning to surrender to forces beyond my control while still taking responsibility for the decisions within my reach.
And as long as my heart beat in time with the ocean’s song, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be—sailing into the unknown, humility, and a profound respect for the rhythm of the sea.
SEETHINGS II follows the return of the Storm Killer as a body on a secluded beach in Moreton Bay, igniting fear and denial. While police dismiss the link, the media doesn’t. Mitchell Felding forms a dangerous bond with a man who understands his darkest impulses. When Natasha enters his life, carrying love letters from her murdered mother, intimacy deepens, and truth closes in. Some futures are inherited. Some have escaped.
Discover more from Michael Forman – Author of Dark Fiction & Drama
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