| West Wight Potter Owner's Home Port ________________________________________________________________________________________________ |
Thirty-something years ago, when I was in college, an earnest young woman attempted to convince me that
meditation was the answer to many of life’s philosophical obstacles. As I remember the conversation, I was
instructed to sit in a dark room and concentrate on an imaginary microscopic silver thread that was flowing
into and out of one of my nostrils as I slowly breathed. Supposedly, by performing this exercise a few
hundred times, many of life’s mysteries would be mystically revealed to me. I actually gave it a try, but found
that hyperventilation and severe boredom kept me from successfully reaching double digits. Dang. So close
to enlightenment.
The 70’s were fascinating times. If you missed those years, you missed some great music, great clothes and
quite a bit of hair. Anyway, one of the products of that important decade was book written by Robert Pirsig
and entitled Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The mere mention of that book just caused some of
you to wistfully smile. If it didn’t, it may be an age thing, so don’t feel awkward. But, I’m betting someone in
your immediate family or circle has read that book. (Or, they bought it and never read it, but carried it around
so people would think that they were cool.)
I recently reacquainted myself with that book, thirty-five years after it’s 1974 publication. The book
documented a philosophy professor’s journey as he traveled cross-country on a motorcycle, while struggling
with some personal relationships and a reoccurring bout of mental illness. In this thick, complex tome, the
author attempts to sort out and arrange a life-long quest to answer the question: “What is quality?” The
book takes the author and his readers through hundreds of pages of comparison between romantic and
analytic thinking; remembered and reinterpreted classroom drama; classic Greek logic; trendy Eastern
mysticism; a thousand miles of scenery; and detailed instruction on the methods and benefits of motorcycle
tuning and maintenance. It’s no easy read, but it kind of hooks you and takes you along with for that ride.
For a long time, this was the most widely read book on philosophy ever written. It may still be.
So, what does any of this have to do with sailboats? As I reread this book this summer, I kept running into
concepts that closely paralleled the joys and struggles of working on boats. So if I may, I’d like to take you
on my own little Chautauqua, with apologies and full credit to Dr. Pirsig’s original thoughts. Here are a few
thoughts that I now dwell upon, as I care for and maintain sailboats. You may or may not find these helpful.
Remember, you aren’t actually paying anything for the advice I am giving.
1. Completion of the boat task is not the primary goal
If you are like most sailors, you probably tackle boat projects with the singular goal of successfully
completing the project. That work is meant to benefit you, not now, but at a later time and different place.
You install that extra cleat now, so you can dock easier later. You install a mast antenna today, so you can
transmit farther later. If this is you, I propose that you may be thinking a tad one-dimensionally and might be
missing a great opportunity for immediate joy and satisfaction. This “end result” orientation might point to a
misunderstanding of the forces that are driving that project. It may also be at the root of much of your boat
maintenance frustration. If you’ve not already thrown your hands up and left, hang with me a little longer.
May I suggest that your desire for new boat gizmos IS NOT the reason that you feel driven to work on your
boat? Rather, the force that drives you to work on your boat is the inherent value of performing good work
on a boat. The difference is subtle, but important. There is intrinsic goodness to be found when we help our
sailboats. I believe the reason that you were in the driveway this weekend sanding down that varnish, was
because you needed to be there. It was not because you needed pretty brightwork for some future sail. If
you’re honest with yourself, is it so outlandish to recognize the need to commune with the boat—even if there
is no sailing involved?
Here is an alternative perspective that could reap some significant benefits in both your quality of life and
blood pressure. The purpose of maintaining and repairing sailboats—the real purpose—is to put in one
good minute after another. That’s it in its entirety. The Zen of sailboat maintenance is in the here and now.
We brush on another coat of spar varnish because it makes this moment as good as it can be. We take joy
in working on boats because it is good work and that goodness buoys us up in the present. That peaceful
good work is enough.
I can prove it to you skeptics. (If you have one eyebrow raised right now, I’m talking to you.) Most of you are
analytically driven and you won’t make sense of this concept easily. You have goals and checklists for your
boat. You stage your projects so certain features or functions are available for the various sailing trips on an
entirely different list. Hey, I’m one of you. You needed to get that centerboard out last week so that you can
get it to the sandblaster this week. But, what would you have done if you’d lost your “to do” list and couldn’t
remember the plan? I’ll tell you. You would have sat there in the cockpit looking for something that needed
fixing. And, you would have found something. Why?
Deep down inside, you already know the answer. You work on your boat because it’s true to your nature as
a sailor. The primary goal of sailboat maintenance is the immediate joy and peace that comes from hands-on
boat work. Completing repairs or installing equipment for a future day’s benefit is secondary at best. If you
fall into that “future day” orientation, you are on a path of lesser satisfaction. That path robs you of current
joy. It causes you hurry to get THAT STUPID BILGE HOSE RECONNECTED or round off bolt heads or
mount something backwards. You let minor issues become major obstacles. Boat time becomes boat
chores. “Will this task never end?” You take the gamble that rushed, mundane, frustrating work now will
cause you to experience joy later. There is a better way and I’ll come back to this concept in a minute.
2. Sailboat projects should be approached with as little effort as possible and without desire
As the book’s author is hiking up the side of a mountain in the Rockies, he makes the following statement:
“Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own
nature should determine the speed.”
I had to read it a few times to understand what he was saying, but then began to slowly understand his
point. Whoa. Interesting. The quality of your maintenance experience will help you set the right pace. As
Pirsig slowed down his trek up the mountain, he noticed easily-missed details that brought great enjoyment.
A perfect leaf. A small animal. This works for us too. Find the pace that maximizes the joy of boat work. If
you’re bored, go a little faster. If you feel hurried and frustrated, slow down. If you feel like a peaceful
craftsman, you’re doing it right. What is your measuring stick? Is it the clock on the wall or the immediate
feedback of the work at hand?
Practice living a little in the moment. If you change your perspective from the “completion” goal (Future), to
the immediate work at hand (Present), you might be amazed at how much more interesting that task is.
“Look how smoothly that paint is going on.” “Hey, that pop rivet went in perfectly.” Details start to emerge
and you enjoy them now. Today. “I never noticed that those lines were mismatched. I’ll fix that right now.”
You are then in the zone. You are no longer working at a chore. You have become a boat maintainer. A
boat improver who is listening closely to his vessel and reaping the pleasure that comes from doing so. Not
tomorrow; today.
3. Boat projects require great peace of mind
Pirsig tells the story of an after-dinner conversation concerning the poor quality of the assembly instructions
that typically come with the things we buy. (Yep, I just got your attention.) The group was exchanging
anecdotes of the poorly translated, often-contradictory instructions with which that they regularly struggle.
The author recounted that he’d recently bought a bicycle that required assembly. The first instruction read:
“Assembly of Japanese bicycle require great peace of mind”. There was much laughter and then the group
turned thoughtful. Someone commented that was a good instruction. Indeed.
So, what can peace of mind do for boat work? Well, getting back to Point One above, that’s the real reason
you’re out there. Think about it. There are only so many sailors in the world and we’re filled with a desire to
efficiently move floating objects through water using wind. We are driven by the joy and peace of sailing and
it’s something that our spouses and neighbors may never understand. To separate ourselves from this
innate yearning for a peaceful soul is to miss the entire point. This reconciliation, this peaceful mind is the
WHOLE THING. Boat maintenance that produces good peace of mind is good and worthwhile. That
maintenance which disturbs it is bad and not worthwhile. If you slow down and soak up the experience, you
can test the quality of your boat work—and your priorities—with your own serenity. Nifty, huh?
Think of a couple of examples from your own experience. Choose an example of good boat craftsmanship
and a poor example. I suspect that the poor craftsman was focused on project completion. He substituted
an ill-fitting part or slapped on paint in a rushed manner so he could then “move on”. In turn, I imagine that
your good example’s craftsman was effortlessly working in the moment. He was observing the reaction
between tool and material. He made little adjustments as he went. He was in harmony with his environment
and was filtering out distractions. He probably started with a peaceful, confident composure and that peace
grew as he watched the boat move closer and closer to perfection. The finish glowed. The joinery was
flawless. People drew peace and comfort from its quality. That craftsman succeeded in stringing a series of
perfect moments end-to-end and the natural result was goodness.
So, in my workshop, I now have a sign that reads “Assembly of Japanese bicycle require great peace of
mind”. Each day I learn a little better what it means.
Conclusion
So, what do we do with all of this? I, for one, am trying to get off the boat chore treadmill. If a boat project
doesn’t offer to give me satisfaction and joy, I may not do it. Ever. But, for those sailboat maintenance and
improvement tasks that do move me toward boat goodness and pleasant function, I’ll slow down and enjoy
every minute. Who cares when I get done?
John Turpin
Summer 2009
john@teamturpin.org
John lives in Edmond, OK and has been sailing West Wight Potters for many years. Having recently lost his
P-15, Tetra, off the Texas coast, he is building a wooden camp cruiser and saving his pennies for future
Potters. For more information on John’s extensive restoration of Tetra and the adventures they shared, visit
his website at www.tetra-sail.com.
Copyright John Turpin
Quotes and wisdom from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, An Inquiry into Values, by Robert M.
Pirsig, William Morrow and Company, Inc, New York, 1974.
meditation was the answer to many of life’s philosophical obstacles. As I remember the conversation, I was
instructed to sit in a dark room and concentrate on an imaginary microscopic silver thread that was flowing
into and out of one of my nostrils as I slowly breathed. Supposedly, by performing this exercise a few
hundred times, many of life’s mysteries would be mystically revealed to me. I actually gave it a try, but found
that hyperventilation and severe boredom kept me from successfully reaching double digits. Dang. So close
to enlightenment.
The 70’s were fascinating times. If you missed those years, you missed some great music, great clothes and
quite a bit of hair. Anyway, one of the products of that important decade was book written by Robert Pirsig
and entitled Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The mere mention of that book just caused some of
you to wistfully smile. If it didn’t, it may be an age thing, so don’t feel awkward. But, I’m betting someone in
your immediate family or circle has read that book. (Or, they bought it and never read it, but carried it around
so people would think that they were cool.)
I recently reacquainted myself with that book, thirty-five years after it’s 1974 publication. The book
documented a philosophy professor’s journey as he traveled cross-country on a motorcycle, while struggling
with some personal relationships and a reoccurring bout of mental illness. In this thick, complex tome, the
author attempts to sort out and arrange a life-long quest to answer the question: “What is quality?” The
book takes the author and his readers through hundreds of pages of comparison between romantic and
analytic thinking; remembered and reinterpreted classroom drama; classic Greek logic; trendy Eastern
mysticism; a thousand miles of scenery; and detailed instruction on the methods and benefits of motorcycle
tuning and maintenance. It’s no easy read, but it kind of hooks you and takes you along with for that ride.
For a long time, this was the most widely read book on philosophy ever written. It may still be.
So, what does any of this have to do with sailboats? As I reread this book this summer, I kept running into
concepts that closely paralleled the joys and struggles of working on boats. So if I may, I’d like to take you
on my own little Chautauqua, with apologies and full credit to Dr. Pirsig’s original thoughts. Here are a few
thoughts that I now dwell upon, as I care for and maintain sailboats. You may or may not find these helpful.
Remember, you aren’t actually paying anything for the advice I am giving.
1. Completion of the boat task is not the primary goal
If you are like most sailors, you probably tackle boat projects with the singular goal of successfully
completing the project. That work is meant to benefit you, not now, but at a later time and different place.
You install that extra cleat now, so you can dock easier later. You install a mast antenna today, so you can
transmit farther later. If this is you, I propose that you may be thinking a tad one-dimensionally and might be
missing a great opportunity for immediate joy and satisfaction. This “end result” orientation might point to a
misunderstanding of the forces that are driving that project. It may also be at the root of much of your boat
maintenance frustration. If you’ve not already thrown your hands up and left, hang with me a little longer.
May I suggest that your desire for new boat gizmos IS NOT the reason that you feel driven to work on your
boat? Rather, the force that drives you to work on your boat is the inherent value of performing good work
on a boat. The difference is subtle, but important. There is intrinsic goodness to be found when we help our
sailboats. I believe the reason that you were in the driveway this weekend sanding down that varnish, was
because you needed to be there. It was not because you needed pretty brightwork for some future sail. If
you’re honest with yourself, is it so outlandish to recognize the need to commune with the boat—even if there
is no sailing involved?
Here is an alternative perspective that could reap some significant benefits in both your quality of life and
blood pressure. The purpose of maintaining and repairing sailboats—the real purpose—is to put in one
good minute after another. That’s it in its entirety. The Zen of sailboat maintenance is in the here and now.
We brush on another coat of spar varnish because it makes this moment as good as it can be. We take joy
in working on boats because it is good work and that goodness buoys us up in the present. That peaceful
good work is enough.
I can prove it to you skeptics. (If you have one eyebrow raised right now, I’m talking to you.) Most of you are
analytically driven and you won’t make sense of this concept easily. You have goals and checklists for your
boat. You stage your projects so certain features or functions are available for the various sailing trips on an
entirely different list. Hey, I’m one of you. You needed to get that centerboard out last week so that you can
get it to the sandblaster this week. But, what would you have done if you’d lost your “to do” list and couldn’t
remember the plan? I’ll tell you. You would have sat there in the cockpit looking for something that needed
fixing. And, you would have found something. Why?
Deep down inside, you already know the answer. You work on your boat because it’s true to your nature as
a sailor. The primary goal of sailboat maintenance is the immediate joy and peace that comes from hands-on
boat work. Completing repairs or installing equipment for a future day’s benefit is secondary at best. If you
fall into that “future day” orientation, you are on a path of lesser satisfaction. That path robs you of current
joy. It causes you hurry to get THAT STUPID BILGE HOSE RECONNECTED or round off bolt heads or
mount something backwards. You let minor issues become major obstacles. Boat time becomes boat
chores. “Will this task never end?” You take the gamble that rushed, mundane, frustrating work now will
cause you to experience joy later. There is a better way and I’ll come back to this concept in a minute.
2. Sailboat projects should be approached with as little effort as possible and without desire
As the book’s author is hiking up the side of a mountain in the Rockies, he makes the following statement:
“Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own
nature should determine the speed.”
I had to read it a few times to understand what he was saying, but then began to slowly understand his
point. Whoa. Interesting. The quality of your maintenance experience will help you set the right pace. As
Pirsig slowed down his trek up the mountain, he noticed easily-missed details that brought great enjoyment.
A perfect leaf. A small animal. This works for us too. Find the pace that maximizes the joy of boat work. If
you’re bored, go a little faster. If you feel hurried and frustrated, slow down. If you feel like a peaceful
craftsman, you’re doing it right. What is your measuring stick? Is it the clock on the wall or the immediate
feedback of the work at hand?
Practice living a little in the moment. If you change your perspective from the “completion” goal (Future), to
the immediate work at hand (Present), you might be amazed at how much more interesting that task is.
“Look how smoothly that paint is going on.” “Hey, that pop rivet went in perfectly.” Details start to emerge
and you enjoy them now. Today. “I never noticed that those lines were mismatched. I’ll fix that right now.”
You are then in the zone. You are no longer working at a chore. You have become a boat maintainer. A
boat improver who is listening closely to his vessel and reaping the pleasure that comes from doing so. Not
tomorrow; today.
3. Boat projects require great peace of mind
Pirsig tells the story of an after-dinner conversation concerning the poor quality of the assembly instructions
that typically come with the things we buy. (Yep, I just got your attention.) The group was exchanging
anecdotes of the poorly translated, often-contradictory instructions with which that they regularly struggle.
The author recounted that he’d recently bought a bicycle that required assembly. The first instruction read:
“Assembly of Japanese bicycle require great peace of mind”. There was much laughter and then the group
turned thoughtful. Someone commented that was a good instruction. Indeed.
So, what can peace of mind do for boat work? Well, getting back to Point One above, that’s the real reason
you’re out there. Think about it. There are only so many sailors in the world and we’re filled with a desire to
efficiently move floating objects through water using wind. We are driven by the joy and peace of sailing and
it’s something that our spouses and neighbors may never understand. To separate ourselves from this
innate yearning for a peaceful soul is to miss the entire point. This reconciliation, this peaceful mind is the
WHOLE THING. Boat maintenance that produces good peace of mind is good and worthwhile. That
maintenance which disturbs it is bad and not worthwhile. If you slow down and soak up the experience, you
can test the quality of your boat work—and your priorities—with your own serenity. Nifty, huh?
Think of a couple of examples from your own experience. Choose an example of good boat craftsmanship
and a poor example. I suspect that the poor craftsman was focused on project completion. He substituted
an ill-fitting part or slapped on paint in a rushed manner so he could then “move on”. In turn, I imagine that
your good example’s craftsman was effortlessly working in the moment. He was observing the reaction
between tool and material. He made little adjustments as he went. He was in harmony with his environment
and was filtering out distractions. He probably started with a peaceful, confident composure and that peace
grew as he watched the boat move closer and closer to perfection. The finish glowed. The joinery was
flawless. People drew peace and comfort from its quality. That craftsman succeeded in stringing a series of
perfect moments end-to-end and the natural result was goodness.
So, in my workshop, I now have a sign that reads “Assembly of Japanese bicycle require great peace of
mind”. Each day I learn a little better what it means.
Conclusion
So, what do we do with all of this? I, for one, am trying to get off the boat chore treadmill. If a boat project
doesn’t offer to give me satisfaction and joy, I may not do it. Ever. But, for those sailboat maintenance and
improvement tasks that do move me toward boat goodness and pleasant function, I’ll slow down and enjoy
every minute. Who cares when I get done?
John Turpin
Summer 2009
john@teamturpin.org
John lives in Edmond, OK and has been sailing West Wight Potters for many years. Having recently lost his
P-15, Tetra, off the Texas coast, he is building a wooden camp cruiser and saving his pennies for future
Potters. For more information on John’s extensive restoration of Tetra and the adventures they shared, visit
his website at www.tetra-sail.com.
Copyright John Turpin
Quotes and wisdom from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, An Inquiry into Values, by Robert M.
Pirsig, William Morrow and Company, Inc, New York, 1974.
Zen and the Art of Sailboat Maintenance
by
John Turpin
by
John Turpin
