Dragging Anchor

As a young boater, everything was a new experience. To say I was clueless is generous. The first year I owned a boat I decided I would sail across the bay to attend a Fourth of July parade with friends.

When I arrived in front of my friend’s house, I threw the anchor overboard, set it and rowed the dinghy to shore. As it happened, the mast perfectly lined up with a tree. I kept looking at the tree and the mast to assure they were lined up and the boat wasn’t moving.

We headed off to the parade and returned a few hours later. I ran ahead of the others to see how the mast lined up with the tree. The good news is the tree was still there. The bad news is my boat was gone, not visible to the naked eye, just gone. Wading out into the water I frantically looked for my boat. With a pair of binoculars I saw it offshore a few miles away bobbing along without a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was a basket case.

My friend fired up his motor boat and we sped off toward my bereft sail boat. I jumped aboard, pulled up the anchor, tied up to the motor boat and towed my sailboat back. When I was ready to set the anchor again, my friend told me not to throw the anchor overboard, but to gently lower it into the water and feed out the rode (boat speak for rope). As it turned out, my first anchoring attempt resulted in the chain being wrapped around the anchor which prevented it from setting properly into the mud.

It was the first and last time I ever dragged anchor on a boat. I wish I could say the same thing was true for my life. It is easy to drag anchor, to move away from the things that center and ground me. And sometimes I don’t realize it until I am far away from where I want to be.

It is a subtle but powerful thing that causes us to drag anchor in our lives.

We are all pandemic weary. The waxing and waning of cases, fear for ourselves and our loved ones, invisible grief of loss that is not validated in community and the endless fighting between science and conspiracy theories are enough to drive anyone to distraction.

The pandemic has changed many aspects of our lives. Jobs have changed or evaporated; child care is a juggling act and inflation has us watching every penny. It’s easy to drag anchor as we try and manage it all.

Add to this the subtle but powerful bombardment with hundreds of images a day that try to convince us that we need this latest gadget or this do-it-all-doodad. Television and social media create false narratives of success. We end up bobbing along, dragging anchor away from the place that gives our lives true meaning.

A new book by British journalist Jonathan Hari, titled Stolen Focus, is about dragging anchor. He doesn’t use that terminology, but the meaning is the same. He posits that we have lost our capacity to pay attention, to focus on what’s important and stay rooted in what gives us meaning. Our capacity to deeply engage a complex problem, see a project through or quiet our innermost selves to listen to the Spirit is diminished by all that goes on around us. It may be one reason for the growing concern about adults taking medications for Attention Deficit Disorder. Adderall and other amphetamine drugs are on the rise with adults. Some say this is the next addiction that will need our attention.

Truth be told, it is hard to settle down and focus. We are bombarded with thoughts about things left undone, new things to work on, everyday tasks, the unique worries of our own lives and so much more.

The remedy is to get back to the place where we set our anchor. What is most important in your life? What anchors your life? How secure is the place where you set your anchor? When we are clear about what anchors our life, everything else comes to a different and manageable perspective. We can prioritize what’s most important, set other things aside, clear the schedule and make time for what and who we value. Most importantly, we come to realize that the tasks of life will never be done. There will always be something left undone, and that’s okay.

The time spent anchoring, whether in meditation, nature walks, reading, playing or whatever anchors you are the most important moments you can spend every day. Gently put your anchor overboard.  Lower it slowly and feel it touch the bottom. Feed out the rode and set the anchor. Let it dig into the security of the bottom layer of mud and stones. Trust that it will hold. Know that it is the most important thing you can do every day