The ocean is our immediate world, whereupon Bermuda becomes 200 square miles. In the unforgiving face of the sea we are all crew learning the same lessons as Bermudian forefathers did for nearly 400 years. Respect for order and organization. A thoughtlessly coiled rope may spell the difference between a successful maneuver and a tragedy. Everything has to be ready and in place. Recognition of the need for practiced skill. A hitch that has been thrown a hundred times, begins to throw itself automatically. A bearing taken a hundred times begins to take itself. Practice and repeated experience can spare us from fateful mistakes. The sea does not respect knots tied on display boards or listed on merit badges. The essential value of planning ahead. We gather the rewards or pay the price for estimating, or neglecting to estimate, such things as the future effects of wind and tide. The obligation to look out for our mates. To be always on guard for the unexpected wind shift, the jibing boom, the slipped footing and the missed handhold. To feel the comradeship of others looking out for you. The survival value of staying calm in emergencies. The sea may not teach us this. More likely it weeds us out. Those of us who don't stay calm don't survive, or if we do, we don't return. The clear necessity to tell truth no matter what the consequences. "I just lost the boat hook over the side." "Sorry, I let us drift off course." We tell this truth immediately, because we know that silence and deception are the seeds of future calamity. Courtesy of Dr. Wells Hively