I heard a saying recently that went, “You can’t control the wind, but you can adjust your sails.” These eleven words could have been Jabran’s motto. He couldn’t control what happened to him but could control his reactions. He had the unwavering ability to live in the present. No lamenting about the past or stressing about the future. He lived life as if that day was the only day that mattered.
When Jabran and I moved to the Pacific Northwest from Indiana, we were looking for an adventure. We hoped to find some new experiences, meet people, and get to know life outside of the small state we grew up in. I remember him saying, “Why do we live in Indiana? Because we were born here. And why do our parents live in Indiana? Because their parents were born here. We don’t have to continue the cycle.”
With that in mind, we left thinking we would try some new things and enjoy “an extended vacation” in Seattle. But what we found was home.
The very first thing Jabran jumped into in the Pacific Northwest was learning to sail. This landlocked-midwestern heard the call of the water and wind and took lessons at Shilshole Bay Marina. He got his certification that allowed him to rent keelboats. We felt like we were achieving our goals; working full-time in our chosen fields and then spending the evenings sailing the Sound, just the two of us. We felt like we were on vacation, but we lived here! Often we had to remind ourselves that this, the Sound, the mountains, and the trees, were all here in our new backyard for us to explore.
To be a good sailor you have to pay attention to the current conditions and make adjustments as necessary. Panicking and letting the force of the wind take over is no way to be successful. Jabran was able to read the wind and plot out the strategy to tack one way and then jib the other back and forth to get us to the point where we wanted to go. Sometimes our efforts didn’t give us the results we were expecting but we had fun and enjoyed the trip nevertheless.
Jabran loved to share his knowledge and training with others. Sailing fulfilled that desire. He had to teach me, as he was stuck with me being his usual deckhand. We also had a couple of college friends that lived here too and they often joined us. He was not shy about telling us what the proper protocols were for sailing. The captain had complete control of the vessel. We had to get permission from the captain to board and disembark. He taught the correct names of all the parts of the boat. I can hear him now yelling, “mind the jib!”
All this training and strategy served us, beyond the sailboat. As life progressed and we bought a house in Edmonds, established roots in a church, created a friend community, and began a family together, we had to chart new courses as events happened. Couldn’t get stuck in what didn’t work at the first attempt, couldn’t panic and worry about the future adjustments we might need to make. Just focus on what was happening at that point and make the best of it.
With 19 years of health challenges that constantly crept up on us it was like someone yelling “mind the jib.” A change was coming and if you didn’t keep your eye out for the switch it could hit you in the head and knock you for a loop or you could let it swing past you and continue on your journey. And what a wonderful, perfect journey we had.
Originally published in the E-bulletin. Subscribe here.
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