Sailing > Rowing

Friends,

For the better part of a decade, I’ve tried to name something I’ve felt but couldn’t quite articulate — a quiet longing, a subtle shift, a deeper way of being in the world.

This week, the words finally came while listening to Alan Watts:
Sailing is greater than rowing.

Rowing is effort. It’s muscle. It’s control. It’s trying to force your way across the water by sheer will.
Sailing, on the other hand, is presence. It’s listening. It’s feeling when the wind shows up, and then aligning your life — your vessel — with its rhythm.

This small phrase has rearranged something in me.
It’s not that effort is bad. But effort without alignment can wear a soul thin.
I spent years trying to row my way across oceans — professionally, spiritually, relationally — and now I’m realizing that the deeper invitation is to sail.
To wait.
To notice.
To catch the wind when it comes — and let it carry you.

When I reflect on the most beautiful moments of my life, they weren’t earned through strain. They arrived in stillness, in surrender, in unexpected gusts of grace.

So maybe this is the practice:
Trim the sails.
Hold the line.
And trust that the wind will come.

Here’s something I’ve noticed…
When I’m surrounded by rowers, the conversation is all about effort — how far we’ve gone, how hard we’ve worked, how fast we’re moving. Rowers love metrics. They measure everything.

But when I’m among sailors, it’s quieter. We don’t talk as much. And when we do, we’re not trading stats — we’re asking, “Where’s the wind taking us?” Sailors are more interested in meaning than measurement.

Try that lens at your next cocktail party. See who’s rowing and who’s sailing.

Speaking of noticing the simple and quiet beauty that we’re offered in the human experience, I want to share a clip that stopped me in my tracks this week. All of my ‘in on the joke’ friends sent it to me as well…. It’s from Scottie Scheffler, the world’s number one golfer, speaking at a press conference at the British Open. Here’s a man who has climbed to the very peak of his profession. He’s won the green jacket at The Masters. He’s held numerous trophies over his head. He’s checked every box modern achievement can offer.

And yet, in this moment, he shares a humble and radiant truth: Even this — all of this — isn’t the whole story.

I’ve seen this arc in many of my heroes. The chase for greatness slowly giving way to a deeper pursuit. One that isn’t measured in trophies, but in presence. In joy. In love. In the realization that the miracle has already happened — we are here.

Here, on a small blue planet, in a galaxy called the Milky Way, spinning at just the right speed, orbiting a star that gives us warmth, light, and food. You have a body. A heart that beats. Lungs that breathe in and out.

And you — you — exist.

The mystery is not out there in some future trophy or perfect moment.
The mystery is now.
The music is playing now.

Click here to see Scottie letting the wisdom flow. It is infrequent in our days to find a prophet amid power and possessions…and putters and pitching wedges. Scottie is one who gives me great hope!

Shameless plug - If you happen to know Scottie, please relay that he has an open seat on the Good, True / & Beautiful Podcast anytime.

To close, I’ll leave you with a video featuring a teaching from Alan Watts that captures this idea better than I ever could. In it, he reminds us that music — like life — is not meant to be rushed through, but danced with. It’s not a means to an end. It is the never-ending, eternal now.

🎵 Alan Watts on the Music of Life

Here’s to not fast-forwarding.
Here’s to the eternal now.
Here’s to raising your sails.

All there’s left to do is enjoy,
Ashton

P.S. The Summer Issue of The Citizen Vol. 8 is officially out — full of slow stories, soulful places, and everyday beauty. Pour a cup of something, take your time, and enjoy.
📖 Read the Summer Issue here