The weather through all the south of this country continues unsettled and severe, worse to the west than here, but enough here to keep me mostly inside, and I am an animal who naturally wants to be outside, who wants the least membrane between him and the natural world. I probably most achieved that with CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE. I admit that I would not want to cross oceans again in a Drascombe lugger at my age, but I have thought about it and if compelled I think I could.
I am still figuring out my life. That might seem odd for an 81 year old if you have not been paying attention. If you have been paying attention you will not be surprised.
I am still exploring and trying to understand what I should do, and I have concluded that I am in an entra-act.
If I am still alive and not too much diminished by time and chance when I am 85 I will again push limits. You might ask why not now.
Three reasons. I want to share a few years after her retirement with Carol. And if I did what I might do now and succeeded I would be faced with the same problem of being without a goal, and I need a goal. And third, totally without regard as to whether I might be the oldest, which I have not and never will google—I think oldest and youngest by a few days or months say nothing about the human spirit—particularly the youngest who have always been given their boats—but that at age 85 I do not know that what I plan is possible for me is an attraction.
So for a few years I take pleasure in sitting here on the screened porch and feeling a cooling wind against my skin and watching raindrops falling on the deck. Because of the direction of the wind I had to move from the chair I normally sit in to the one Carol normally sits in. I trust she will forgive me.
Consider Theodore Roosevelt’s ‘Man in the Arena’:
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
I have been in the arena, not constantly, but for decades. I have known the triumph of high achievement and I would like to believe writing great words, and if time and chance do not destroy or diminish me too much, I will enter the arena again in 2026-27.
In the meantime I will enjoy my small pleasures.
Gentle rain is still pattering down.
5 comments:
I think you have stated the why not previously, but is there any reason you cannot advise your readers what it is, sailing wise, that you have planned for 2026-27?
Some like to talk about what they are going to do. I don’t. I prefer to write about what I am doing or have done and there are too many variables about my plan that are not in my control. I may not live to 85 or I may not be healthy enough then. It is enough for me now to have the satisfaction of having a plan and a goal.
It's enough to know it's planned by an 80-something Webb Chiles. This fact clears living space for whoever needs space.
Watching Webb Chiles plan and do and plan more, aware of what's within control and what isn't: "So it's possible after all to live this way."
Epic inspiration from my perspective.
Roosevelt Arena is a choice piece to amplify your actions not intentions.Thanks for sharing your actions.Perhaps you wonder if your record is noted? We are shy but I doubt me alone in observing your example, creating a worthy life.
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