Not "if" but "how"

The resolution

A friend of mine once described a parenting decision that he and his wife had made. In an effort to foster entrepreneurship in their kids, when asked if the kid can do a thing, the parents would correct the kid to ask how they can do a thing. It is an important distinction and has stuck with me during even internal dialogs. When I remember to reframe with "how," I am struck by how my perspective shifts from powerless to inexperienced.

A recent shift from "if" to "how" is my wanting to own a boat on which my friends and family can meet and play. As the subtitle of this site indicates, I am trying to scratch the itch of desperately missing the sea, and boats go a long way to that end. Now the question is not if I can get into a boat but how I get into a boat.

The limitations

Sadly, I don't have infinite resources. I am short on cash, skill, experience, work space, tools, materials, help, and so on. However, I happen to believe that restrictions and limitations drive innovation. What I do have is a strong will to fulfill this need for a salt water alternative and a load of experience in concocting unconventional solutions to problems.

I tend to think a little outside the box in general, so, when I daydream about things, I think my brain doesn't travel down the paths that most people's brains travel. For instance, when I started pondering how to get into a boat, I thought "what's the biggest boat... I can build?" Building a boat may or may not be what I need, but the point is that I want something a little different from normal.

The needs

When I think about owning a boat, I think of a few needs that I am reluctant to compromise. As I've mentioned, I don't want a cookie cutter duplicate of someone else's dream.

I need something with a personality. Something with color. I don't mean color that is perceived by your eyeball. I mean color that speaks to your spirit. Something with a story.

I need something that doesn't break the bank. This endeavor is not at the core of my family's well-being (like schooling, orthodontics, etc) and I do not have a vault of fun money to drain on a nice boat. Incidentally, this is another reason that getting into a project boat is daunting. I do not know enough knowledge and experience to be careful with what I am plunging into.

I need something that doesn't need a trailer. Or I need to add a hitch to my car. But my car has a humble 1,500 pound maximum tow capacity anyway, so even with a hitch I am limited to very small boats.

I need something that doesn't need a slip. In Percy Priest here in Nashville, the marinas have a five-year waiting list on slips and do not have a mooring. So, unless I find a boat for sale in the marina with a transferrable slip, I am out of luck. Even if a found one, being short on cash makes buying a boat just for its slip inaccessible.

"We aren't building space ships"

Even as I write all of this I am filling with anxiety. It seems so far from obtainable. I would lose hope if not for a handful of boat restorers that maintain an online presence and stay firmly planted in reality. They encourage me with their ability to find a middle ground between perfection and economy. One such blogger commented on boat restoration site in which a novice who, like me, was freaking out about how much they did not know about the process. The comment read, "Don't freak out. We aren't building space ships."

At the end of the day, building or restoring a boat is the part of the fun of getting into the water. It is the part that is going to stretch me and require me to reach out for help. It is going to make me familiar with the deep parts of the boat that come into vivid reality as I sail her. Relaxing into the process is therapeutic for me. Take it one step at a time. We aren't building space ships.

Thanks for reading.