I had just finished a pensive and mind-cleansing walk on the beach near the end of 29-day experience between Tortola, British Virgin Islands and Bocas del Toro, Panama. Sandwiched in those 29-days was a 10-day offshore passage on a Norseman 447 named One World. It was a magnificent journey.

As I looked out into those ominous skies eerily & steadily creeping along their north by northwest route, I couldn’t help but think back to just a few days ago when we were out there. It was surreal to be on the beach, firm-footed and sure-minded that I didn’t have to do anything to prepare for this inevitable storm, for it would continue along its path without regard for me while I also on my day, far from its playful tumult and unintending danger without a worry in the air.

It was bittersweet.

It was bittersweet to not be out there–in the excitement–immersed in the challenge, adrenaline coursing through my veins, courage in the soul, and hints of evident fear dripping from my trembling hands. Instead, I was safe here. Nothing I did–or moreover, DIDN’T do–would put me or my crew any further into harm’s way. I was invincible; an invincible fool only to yearn to be out in it.

I thought, what if I could bottle-up the elements and compounds currently making me feel this way? What if I could bottle that right up and then offer it to those in need when disaster strikes to give them just a hint more courage to face those horrible things? What if I could bottle it right up and even take a sip myself, the next time I am slamming back and forth into the cabin walls, clamoring for my already wet foul weather gear that I would wear on my upcoming watch in this storm; in this feisty ocean storm that I yearned to be in like a fool that day on the beach.