This summer, my wife and I had the opportunity to cruise aboard a historic schooner in Penobscot Bay, some of the most staggeringly beautiful waters of mid-coast Maine. We sailed amidst an archipelago laced with granite and spruce islands, broad bays and scenic harbors, the age-old mountains of Mount Desert rising from the sea in craggy grandeur to the north, while the Camden Hills remained ever visible to the west. One particular afternoon we beat across Blue Hill Bay on a course for Burnt Coat Harbor, a cleft at the bottom of Swan’s Island, and we sneaked in the “back door” around Stanley Point. This attractive, well-protected harbor was originally named “Brule Cote” by explorer Champlain in 1604, a name literally meaning “burnt coast”, bearing witness to the charred remains of a forest fire. Its name was later morphed by common usage and the dialect of lobstermen. (PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING.)
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After a sumptuous evening meal topside, we rowed ashore among the lobster boats at rest on their moorings to attend that night’s performance at The Sweet Chariot Music Festival, about which its own ad boasts “it is not for the faint of heart” while encouraging all to bring “your own voice, your moxie and your mojo”. It is staged over three nights every year in The Grange Hall, a large wooden theater – more like a barn with chairs and a raised stage. I expected to be entertained. I didn’t expect to be hit between the eyes with another one of those life lessons. Sometimes we learn best when the lesson is delivered when we least expect it. Artists came and went on stage, sharing, mixing and remixing backup instrumentalists to suit their songs. Half-way in, a singersongwriter got to me with her song “Crossroads”. I’m embarrassed to admit that in my earnest attempt to memorize the lyrics of the chorus, I didn’t catch her name. The chorus went something like this: At the end of the day We must all find a way To live with the questions And move on This song is about those times in life when we are caught in the crossroads and feeling unable to move on. A partial lyric bounces around my head – “at the crossroads, you can build a campfire, but you can’t build a life” … in other words, you can hang out for a while, but in order to live life you must find a way to move on, even if you can’t answer all the questions. Safely back aboard our schooner and sipping the night’s last glass of wine in the moon glow, the conversation was naturally about the concert and I should not have been surprised that this song similarly affected our shipmates. I knew then that I had the gist of an article that I had to share. Now far removed from coastal Maine, I sit here writing this article aware of and reflecting on different aspects of my own life that may be considered “in the crossroads” and the far too many questions around them. I realize that the answers to many of these questions are vague, too numerous to provide much clarity, or just unknowable. As Yoda would say “move on you must”. That was the left brain reaction. The right brain reaction, sensed almost instantaneously, was a deep sadness for those paralyzed by their inability or unwillingness to do so, realizing they just cannot move on. |