On Wanting A Boat
Spoiler Alert: It's Not About The Boat
Sun-warmed skin, water splashing up all around, and my hair swept back by the wind as I clung to the rubber tube pulled behind the boat. My dad would swerve left and right, pivot into a big donut, and I was along for the ride, smiling and laughing until I would eventually tumble off into the lake and be picked up for another run.
That scene could have been pulled from many summer Saturdays growing up on Lake Tenkiller in Eastern Oklahoma. My grandparents had a pontoon boat and a ski boat, and when the whole family would go out, we’d park the pontoon for people to swim around and chill, while those who wanted to ski or tube went out on the ski boat. Some of my favorite memories were on that lake.
So much so, that one of the considerations for my professional path in high school and early college was it provide enough financial compensation I could afford a boat. And every year around this time, as the weather warms slightly and I start to imagine those hot summer days, I spend a few hours researching boats, looking for any decent deals on a used one with not too many hours. Dreaming of pulling my daughters behind the boat, and, ok, hoping someone will pull me to ski for a bit.
But at 39, I regret to inform you that I still don’t have that boat the younger version of me dreamed of. And yet, that dream still pops up time to time. So much so, that in a recent practice coaching session in my coaching certification program, I used it as the answer to “what do you want” in a session where I was playing the client.
The structure of the session was simple: the coach asked the client what they want, and then proceeded to drill down by asking “what’s important to you about that?” to get underneath the client’s surface-level presenting desire. I wasn’t sure where this inquiry would go, I want (and have always) wanted a boat, so it seemed pretty simple.
My coach for the session pulled me deeper than I initially anticipated. Yes, I loved the water, and yes, I loved those summer days. But family was a big part of that, feeling connected to people around me and doing something exciting. So, the idea of taking my girls out on a boat would seem to fit that bill. But the coach kept dialing in the questions, inviting me deeper.
I like to be outside. I didn’t grow up camping, but I do enjoy doing it occasionally. I also like hiking, riding bikes, and being out in nature. But I’ve told myself a story that I’m not “outdoorsy enough,” or I’m not as knowledgeable or skilled as “that guy” (pointing to some fictitious dad who knows every knot, has summited every fourteener in Colorado, and knows exactly how much food to bring on a three-day camping trip.
And also I have daughters and while they also like being outside, I have to plan a bit more for things like bathrooms on hikes or camping trips. And that makes sense, but has also provided some friction on past camping trips. It has also been a limiter on future potential trips as I wonder whether one or both of them will be able to handle it, or if it will be too much, or, or, or….
And also, I live in Wichita, KS. Kansas has its own beauty, but great lakes are not a part of that picture. And there isn’t a beach or any mountains. Look, I know we’ve been talking a lot about lakes, but I also love the beach. And the mountains hold this mystique as an adventure wonderland where you can hike, mountain bike, ski, and just generally be outside a lot. Or there’s the sweet spot of California where you can have the beach plus great hiking within close proximity.
“Adventure and connection,” I heard myself say aloud. I can’t recall the question she asked, but that was clearly my response a few minutes into the coaching session. Tears welled up behind my eyes, and they’re making a comeback as I type these words. Which is a bit surprising since those words don’t seem to carry any particular charge. But for me, they did.
Underneath those words is a desire for more of those things, especially with my daughters. We’ve explored some “mountain bike” trails around Wichita together and camped at a few lakes in Kansas, but it’s been the exception more than the rule. Part of that stems from the thought that there will be some more ideal future day when planning and packing for a camping trip will be magically easier; when the weather will be perfect and we won’t have any plans on the weekend. But the problem with the last part is we’re the ones making the plans, so I need to actively plan to not have anything other than adventure on the books some time.
The other obstacle is my mindset. Wichita’s a fine place to live. It has plenty of amenities and the cost of living is about as low as it gets. And yet, the city nor Kansas more broadly really scream “adventure.” One doesn’t just stumble into adventure in Kansas the way I imagine would be possible in Colorado, Montana, or California. There are plenty of gravel roads for me to head out for a long ride, but that’s more of a solo venture, or at least one without my daughters. And I’ve limited myself by continuing to tell this story about the limited availability of adventure.
But the truth is, there are cool spots in Kansas, too. There are plenty of outdoors to go around here, and while they might not have the grandeur or immediate appeal of a tall mountain, they’re there. And as I learned from a Ted Talk by Chalmers Brothers, our language doesn’t just describe the world, it creates it. I can either tell a powerful story (adventure is out there and available and all I need to do is pursue it) or an un-powerful story (there’s no adventure here and woe is me for living in the flatlands). And no matter which story I tell, it will end up being true, not because it’s a fact, but because it will have created the world I ended up living in.
Quite a place to arrive after answering a really simple question, “what do you want?,” and offering a really simple answer, “a boat.” Maybe there’s a boat in my future, it’s unlikely, but if Bieber taught me anything it’s to “never say never.” But adventure and connection are in my future, not because I can see into the future, but because that’s a more powerful story to tell, and I’d rather live into that than a less powerful story.
But that’s all about me, what do you want?