I’m so optimistic I’d go after Moby Dick in a row-boat and take the tartar sauce with me.” – Zig Ziglar.

I’m ready, fork in hand, very small, olive oil based jar of tarter, poised on a rowing machine courtesy of 24 Hour Fitness and it’s Land Ho!  I’m off to find a whale.  Optimism allows me to row out into the deep end armed with nothing more than an idea and a Dream.   So what could go wrong?  Those gremlins come swimming fast and furiously alongside the row-boat, heads popping up every other second it seems, shouting:

Hey you there in the row-boat (machine),

You’ll never even find the whale, let alone use that fork and tarter sauce;

Your navigation computer on this leaky tub is going to break down any second;

Hey watch out, you’re heading towards a rock;

Hey dummy, duck here comes a pelican after your lunch;

Hey you’re probably tired by now, if you just lay your head down for a second . . .

I keep rowing and rowing.

As I focus on the idea of the whale in front of me, the gremlins rock the boat gently side to side.  Sometimes it lulls me into the idea it’s a baby’s cradle, soothing and hypnotic.  I could just fall asleep and dream about my dream again!  But then the rocking gets more raucous and a wave of nausea overtakes me, what the heck am I doing?  A whale, really?  I can’t even see the thing, I don’t know where I’m going.  I don’t know what I’ll do when I even see this thing, let alone get close to it.  Holding the fork and tarter even more tightly, I remember Zig and renew my sense of adventure, trusting myself instead of the gremlins.

Zig’s words play over and over in my head.  The gremlins get tired and just hang onto the boat sometimes.  I am aware they are there in the following moments of silence.  In this quiet I focus on the vision and renew my optimism.  The stars seem to align to navigate me easily in the direction of the big fish waiting for me to claim my prize.  I am assured that my joy is in this journey and I am craving a fish sandwich.  I know that all those small fishing trips I took as a kid have led me to this big whopper of a whale thing.

Thoughts lead me to the other story of a whale where Jonah was swallowed.  Was I about to become whale bait instead of me having a noon-day snack?  Whatever the story, you conquer the whale or find miracles within the belly of the whale, the outcome is the same.  You are bigger than the dream, you are the dream.  Get your forks out, get ready to use the tarter sauce.

The fork glistens in the sun to remind me that the light of my life is shining everywhere in this moment and I catch the first glimpse of the whale.