Thursday, December 26, 2024
Greek Isles- Being Sane In Insane Places
On Being Sane in Insane Places
Working on a Cruise Ship
Working on a cruise ship is the sandpaper of my inner life. It smooths out rough edges and shapes me into a better person. Everything changes when you stop acting in the story and start witnessing it instead. This shift allows you to see life’s quirks and challenges in a new light, and the energy that flows from these moments—simpatico energy—is transformative.
Onboard, life feels like a constant balancing act. With an all-you-can-eat buffet and an open bar as distractions, the deeper "good voice" of life often struggles to make itself heard. Yet, it’s there, waiting for us to tune in amidst the chaos.
A Tale of Two Ships
Cruise ship contracts are relentless: four months, seven days a week, 24 hours a day. There’s no room for a bad day; the only easy day was yesterday.
The Boulders
At first, I dealt with the “boulders”—the basic, sometimes absurd questions like:
- “Do these stairs go up?”
- “Do you eat the leftovers?”
- “Is the water in the toilet salt water?”
- My favorite: “Where’s my wife?”
The Gravel
Once the boulders were cleared, I moved on to the “gravel”—the chronic complainers and critics. These are the guests who believe everything should go their way and who measure perfection by their own impossible standards. As long as you cling to how you think things should be, you miss how they actually are.
“Treating everyone as though they’re ‘God in drag’ requires humility. It’s not about becoming somebody special; it’s about letting go of that need entirely.”
The Illusion of Perfection
Cruise ship service is an art form—downplaying the negatives and creating the illusion of seamless perfection. Front of house (FOH) staff are trained to be all things to all people, projecting calm and competence even when the reality is anything but.
Having transitioned to traveling as a guest, I can finally admit: I like being served, but invisibly. It’s a luxury to step back and enjoy the effort others put into maintaining the illusion.
A Tale of Two Worlds
Spending an overnight on land in Central Florida feels like deliverance—a release from the stronghold of the sea. The raw, untamed energy of the land contrasts sharply with the controlled gloss of ship life. Here, I am reminded that wildness and danger coexist with freedom and discovery.
On land, gravity reasserts itself—both literally and metaphorically. It grounds me, reminding me that life’s lessons are always right where I am, waiting to be learned. But grounding comes with discomfort; growth often hurts.
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