After today, I promise I won’t start talking about new beginnings again until the solstice in June. I swear.
It’s just that I’m a really big fan of seizing every opportunity and giving yourself plenty of chances to start over.
Today, I want to talk about one of my favorites, an unobserved and wholly under-appreciated fresh start.
In the “everything is a metaphor” department, I’m looking at the power of coming clean, of wiping away that which is left behind, that which isn’t needed; of ridding yourself of grit, gunk and grime, of scrubbing the bad shit away.
In the “cleanliness is next to godliness” department, I’m imbuing that which helps us clean with more power and importance, instilling it with the value of rebirth.
I’m going to come clean here and tell you that I’m talking about New Sponge Day.
This is a holiday I began celebrating on a long slog through an arduous ocean (literally, not metaphorically). Despite what the (non) reality shows would have you believe, life at sea working aboard a yacht is (hopefully) not (necessarily) the roller coaster ride of human drama they portray it to be. In fact, we aim for the exact opposite. Whereas guests are after a once-in-a-lifetime experience (even if they come aboard monthly), ours tends to be more of a Groundhog Day situation. Same thing, every day, but try to make it better as you go along.
This is especially the case when you’re at sea, traveling long distances between ports--hopefully without guests. For example, a trip from Bali, in Indonesia to Singapore is roughly 1,322 nautical miles. At a speed of 10 knots (nautical miles per hour) that’s roughly five and half days. Or Newport, Rhode Island to St Thomas, USVI is about 1700 nautical miles-- so at same speed, that’s more than 7 days.
This approximate time doesn’t take into account wind and current that may be pushing against you, storms in which you’re surrounded by walls of waves, or something like, say, a lightning strike that destroys all of your electronics rendering navigation nearly impossible.
Imagine being at sea for a week. Nope, not on a cruise ship. There’s no pool, no cabaret, no swim-up bars (drinking is verboten), and no casinos. There’s a good chance there’s no internet or satellite TV. It’s you, the ocean, a lot of motion, your fellow crew and as much as you can load into your Kindle.
Plus, your job--which has switched itself up a bit to accommodate an ocean voyage. There are no Hampton Inns or rest stops in the ocean. The boat must keep chugging along 24/7, and someone has to keep watch all the time1. You may get the 2-6 shift, which means both A.M. and P.M. The days feel very long--in fact, one four-hour midnight watch has been known to stretch out to three and a half weeks.
Now, imagine it’s a month or more of this. Or several of these long ocean voyages back-to-back taking you halfway around the world.
It was on one of these trips, at my wits end, desperate to be on land walking around and to have my onions not roll as I chop them and to not have to wedge myself in to got to the bathroom, where I noticed my galley sponge looking like it, too, had done quite a few sloppy miles at sea. I feel you, little buddy, I thought, recalling the cranky messes we’d been through in the past week alone. I grabbed a fresh sponge from its package, nestled it in its new home by the dish soap and put the old one to rest.
Because: boredom, punch drunk, looking for fun, or I don’t know what, I immediately ran up to the bridge (the part of the boat where lookout/steering/navigation happens) and breathlessly demanded of my fellow crew “GUESS WHAT TODAY IS?”
They looked at me quizzically. I could see them going through a mental checklist: Christmas? Somebody’s birthday? Arbor day?
Nope, I teased them.
It’s New Sponge Day!
To my delight and relief, they responded favorably, waving their hands, whooping and doing a little happy dance.
Henceforth, on every boat, with every crew, in every kitchen, in every house, I celebrate New Sponge Day. Even if it’s just me, I always fete the occasion.
You don’t have to be on a boat crossing an ocean. You don’t even have to be working a superyacht season of back-to-back charters--if it’s Tuesday, we must be in Jost Van Dyke. Anyone can celebrate New Sponge Day. In fact, everyone should. At least once a month.
My litmus test for friends and co-workers is to see how they respond to my New Sponge Day tidings. I once met a woman who didn’t observe the occassion. She said “It’s stupid. It’s a made-up holiday.” She turned out to be a horrible co-worker and a toxic human.
Fun fact: all holidays are made up.
What makes New Sponge Day so great?
You can have a quick, spontaneous celebration--which always raises your vibration and energy level.
It only costs as much as a new sponge.
Anyone can celebrate, at any time.
You can choose a regular time (new moon, first of the month, every Sunday) or fly by the seat of your pants and go an impromptu, as-needed basis.
Here’s the bottom line: your sponge is on the front line of cleanliness and germ-fighting in your home. Like any soldier, its daily battles will leave their mark--maybe not at first, the degradation is slow and barely perceptible. After all, you’ve been on the journey together, cleaning melted cheese and desiccated frosting, eradicating germs as one.
But the day comes when you see your sponge with different eyes--maybe a friend is coming over, or the afternoon sunlight hits it just right. You’re taken aback by the state of things: what was once a cheery yellow is now a dingy shade of meh. The colorful pattern on the scrubby side isn’t even a scrubby side anymore.
You’ve got a manky sponge.
Fret not, the situation is easily redeemable.
Grab yourself a new sponge.
But, for reals, it’s more than that.
It’s an occasion to honor all of the mental, metaphorical, and literal crap you’ve cleaned out of your life. It’s a moment to recognize all of the menial work you’ve done and basic humaning you’ve accomplished. It’s an opportunity to embrace a fresh start, a new beginning, a chance to wipe the slate clean, as it were.
When shit gets real, you can console yourself knowing that at least your sponge has it together, and that you are the kind of person with a respectable sponge.
I do not take New Sponge Day lightly.
Please do not mistake me for being flippant or cutesy.
Life is hard. Life will suck the life right out of you.
I’m on a quest to find beauty, joy and cause for celebration every day however I can and share it with whomever I can.
So, without further ado,
Happy New Sponge Day.
You keep a vigilant eye on machinery, horizon, radar, weather, communications, etc. Ships that pass in the night should be just that, and they should pass with plenty of space between them.
I cannot express how much I love this! My husband used to keep our spong out until the entire kitchen smelled like mildew (I mean after all, it still worked, right?) We would fight and then I would throw it out and get a new spong. Now it will not be a fight but a celebration! Thank you for this! And for reminding me of my favorite trip ever: twenty 20 year-olds on a 57 ft sailboat from Miami to the Bahamas. It was so invigorating I didn't need sleep! I took the night shift. The stars were amazing! We had a captain and we were the crew. We took turns driving the boat and cooking. Eating lobster and conch right out of the ocean was absolutely incredible! I was 20. And it was 1 week. Not sure I could do it today. (Have you seen Dead Calm? If you like suspense, horror, and Nicole Kidman I highly recommend!)
In any event, my husband now changes the spong regularly, but now it will be a celebration! Thank you for this!
I celebrated New Sponge Day today before I read this article!