Battle of The Buts [#34]

The power of saying yes is neither a novel nor complicated concept. People write books about it. Jim Carrey made a movie about it. Nike essentially built an empire around it.

The idea is simple enough — if you want to be happier, say yes to more.

And yet, a Yes Please mantra is harder than it seems to effectively execute.

For starters, we have to say no thanks to some things, because some things are just plain bad — like mayonnaise and mean people and socks with built-in toe separators.

Then, there are the things most of us literally can’t afford to say yes please to — like yachts with heli-pads and private islands and wine that’s not in a box.

Clearly, the Be Happier odds are stacked high against us.

That said, those of us firmly committed to the challenge can no doubt make it out of the mayonnaise maze relatively unscathed, perhaps even embracing our boxed wine life of limited luxury. But still, there’s a final hurdle to clear before we can prop open the gates to our Yes Please Palace.

We have to win the Battle of The Buts.

We all go to bat against different forms of The Buts at different times in our lives. (I’m not spelling it wrong, I promise.)

There are Little Buts:

I should do a workout but I'm so tired.

I need to eat healthy today but I could start tomorrow. 

There are Bigger Buts:

I want to learn another language but I'll have more time next year.

I could take a Bucket List trip but I'm too young for Bucket Lists.

When we lived on land, our Buts sounded a lot like this:

...but when will we have time?

...but what if the kids don't like it?

...but maybe we should just wait and see?

But why…? But where…? But how…? But what if…?

Every But is a version of the same — second-guessing and doubt and excuses that, when left unchecked, swirls into an endless stall pattern of practice swings. Eventually, Yes Please gets tired of waiting on deck and moves on in search of a faster paced game. No Thanks happily stays camped out at home plate — always leaving one foot just outside the batter’s box.

Since arriving in Bocas, we’ve caught ourselves battling new Buts:

...but it's so much easier at the marina.

...but I sleep so much better with air-conditioning.

...but we still haven't fixed the starboard water tank.

...but we could go after rainy season.

Buts on a boat will slowly kill your spirit — lord knows, they were killing ours. Buts on boats keep anchors down and dock lines secured.

This suits some just fine.

It does not suit us.

Recently, we had a bit of an epiphany and remembered that we’re in charge of our own Buts.

So, we replaced but with even though and re-committed ourselves to Yes Please. A promise that, this time around, sounded something like the following:

Even though we have To Do lists to complete, and even though we sleep better when it's cool, and even though we only have one working water tank, we still have places in the Bocas Archipelago to explore before we head off to the Canal later this fall. 

So, as a compromise, over the next month and a half, we'll venture out to different anchorages during the weekdays and return to the dock on the weekends to complete projects (and sleep with a blanket and make ice and take real showers).

Wouldn’t you know, like the Babe Ruth shot-caller it is, Yes Please delivered.

We shoved ourselves off the dock and spent two of the most magnificent little stretches of days and nights at anchor in three beautiful areas.

Be Happier — check.

At Starfish Beach, we scrubbed barnacles and sea-sludge from the hulls and the props. We identified and fixed a flooded air compartment in our port bow that was causing us nightmares. We bought lobster from a local fisherman. We enjoyed an impromptu visit from and dinner with friends. We chatted about our TransPac crossing while hiking a jungle trail along the beach. We flew the drone through impossibly beautiful sunsets.

The following week, Yes Please took us to Dolphin Bay.

Two other friend-boats joined us as we anchored just off of the spectacular Green Acres Chocolate Farm. There, we enjoyed a tour of the property complete with a sloth sighting, tiny frogs, johnnycake pizzas, chocolate rum, gorgeous botanical gardens, and a lesson in organic chocolate-making.

Talk about a good day.

At anchor, we all swam and played and laughed and floated and paddled for hours. Wyatt even had enough space to finally do dinghy donuts at full speed — which is apparently the only speed that’s “fun.”

From our Green Acres anchorage, we motored three miles to anchor in a new-to-us part of the bay. This time, just off of the little open-air, over-water-bungalow-style restaurant, El Clandestino. During COVID times the restaurant is taking one reservation per night for a group of up to 10 people.

If ever there existed a moment when I felt fancier than I should, eating with friends at our own private waterfront restaurant with our respective sailboats anchored 150 feet away was that moment. 

And let me tell you -- it. was. awesome.

We returned to the marina with a renewed zest for Boat Life — a tangible reminder of why we travel, why we’ve chosen this salty path, and why we should keep choosing it — at least for a while longer.

GAME 572

Ruby Vi: 3 
Bocas Buts: 0

Now, tied to our secluded little section of F Dock and with the AC blasting, we’ve finally finished fixing that damn water tank.

We’re unabashedly delighting in the glories of shore power. We’re eating dinner with friends and discussing The Big Buts we each have to battle in the months ahead as we prepare to transit the Panama Canal and then sail 4,000 miles across the Pacific Ocean.

All the while, we’ll keep swinging away against The Itty Bitty Bocas Buts, eager to hit another line drive that will send us diving head first into our next Yes Please destination.

We’d almost forgotten how much we like a good battle. I guess we just needed to remember how freaking awesome it feels to win.