Life at sea changes not only what you see, but also how you see. Sometimes the most beautiful discoveries lie not outside, but deep within. In this instalment, we explore the layers of life on board that only become visible when silence falls: dreams born along the way, the experience of true freedom, and the way our perspective on the future shifts.
Jeroen, Rajesh, and I each answer the same questions in our own way. Sometimes philosophically, sometimes practically, sometimes with wonder. Because the sea offers space, but also poses questions. Questions we don’t avoid along the way.
What dreams have been added (unexpectedly)?
Aagje: I thought this trip would be mostly about sailing. About islands, anchorages, dolphins, and starry nights. But somewhere along the way, new dreams were born. Dreams I’d never put on a to-do list, but which have quietly made their appearance.
I dream of sharing stories. Not just our adventures, but also what lies beneath: the doubts, the growth, the encounters. The idea of writing a book has grown from a silent wish into a clear desire. Not for fame or success, but to show others what it truly means to let go, to choose the unknown, and to live with the wind as your guide.
I also dream of art. Of painting on large canvases, not as a hobby but as an expression of what I feel along the way: the play of light on water, the silence of the deep, the colors of freedom. The ocean has changed my palette. It’s as if my imagination now has as much space as my anchor line.
And there’s something else: I want to remain meaningful. Not just for the people on board, but also for others along the way. Perhaps as a caregiver, perhaps as a listening ear, perhaps simply as someone who makes coffee for a sailor who’s feeling a bit lost. I don’t want to let go of that connection.
And yet, I still dream of having my own practice in the Netherlands. That dream hasn’t disappeared; it’s just waiting. A place where care and attention converge, where people feel seen, where I can once again utilize my experience and passion for the profession. Perhaps even with a little art on the wall.
But right now, there’s no room for that. Not literally, not socially. We’re outside the systems. We don’t fit into the boxes of continuity, registrations, and flawless careers. Sometimes it hurts to feel you have something to give, but there’s no one to let you in. I’ve learned to be patient. To be honest with myself. To acknowledge that some things aren’t feasible right now, without giving up on my dream. Because you don’t always have to chase dreams right away. Sometimes you can cherish them, sheltered from the wind, until the wind shifts.
Maybe that’s what it’s all about: staying true to what lives inside you, even if it’s not yet visible to the world around you.
Rajesh: Although photography started as a hobby for me, I feel this is the moment, and the opportunity, to share my work professionally with the world. After years of capturing life at sea and in nature, I’m ready to take things a step further, not just as someone who loves photography, but also as a photographer with a story to tell.
Jeroen : If I’m completely honest, I haven’t developed any new dreams along the way, in the sense of grand plans or ambitions. My desire has actually become simpler: no goals, just being. Living in the moment, guided by the wind and the heart. That’s enough.
Of course, a practical goal has emerged: finding a way to continue this life financially sustainable. Not to get rich or have a career, but simply to be able to maintain this way of life, free, on the water, together, for a long time to come.
What has most moved or touched you in the past three years?
Rajesh: Life on a sailboat is already an adventure, raw, unpredictable, and intensely alive. I’ve met many fellow sailors here, people who, like me, have chosen this wandering life, chasing the wind and the horizon.
But along the way, I also meet travelers who are just passing through, flying there, taking a road trip , backpacking, or staying in hotels for a week or two. When they share their stories, their longing for more time, more freedom, I realize how rare and precious this life truly is.
What touches me most is the quiet realization that I’m not on a short flight. I’m living a dream that many only taste. And in that realization, I find both gratitude and responsibility… to live it fully and share it honestly.
Aagje: There have been so many moments when something shifted within me. Not a big fanfare, but something small and essential. Moments when the world seemed to stand still for a moment, and I knew: something important is happening here.
I think of a night watch, somewhere in the middle of the ocean. The moon hung above us like a soft lantern, the sea rippled as if listening, and the stars twinkled like an ancient secret. As if I were absorbed into something larger, as if I myself were stardust for a moment. Insignificant, yet completely at home. Moments like these allow you to break free from everything you think you should be. You simply are.
I also think of encounters. With people we barely knew, but who opened their world to us with a plate of food, a smile, a story. The warmth of human kindness, given freely, without expectation. That touches me every time.
And sometimes it’s something even smaller: a turtle swimming calmly by. The first fish Rajesh spotted with his underwater camera. A coral color I’d never seen before. A song playing on the speaker as the sun sets and everything clicks. Or an unexpected hand on my shoulder, a look of understanding, a hug after a turbulent day.
But perhaps what touched me most was realizing that, despite everything, I still want to be touched. That my heart remains open, even after storms, goodbyes, and discomfort. That I still feel wonder. And gratitude. Every single day, a little more.
Jeroen: What I never expected, looking back on three years of sailing, is that I’d find a new friend with whom we’d share so much quality time. Someone who, like us, lives his life on the water, and who gradually became a regular part of our daily lives, almost naturally.
When he told me one day that the time he spent with us was the best thing that had happened to him in the past twenty years, it touched me deeply. It was one of those moments when you suddenly realize how special a bond has become. That it’s valuable not only for him, but for me as well. Because true friendships, especially at sea, are rare. And I hadn’t seen this one coming.
How do you see your future at sea?
Jeroen: I don’t yet know exactly what my ideal future looks like. There’s no fixed plan, no clear horizon I’m working toward. But I do know one thing for sure: the sea will always be a part of it. It has become a constant in my life, a place of peace and tranquility. However the path unfolds, I can’t imagine ever completely leaving it behind.
Rajesh: If it were entirely up to me, I would stay at sea forever, sailing from horizon to horizon, exploring every corner of this planet. Life here feels honest and wild, and I’ve grown to love it deeply.
But lately, a quiet shift has begun. I’m still young, and I know there are responsibilities waiting for me on land, opportunities to pursue, a different kind of growth to embrace. So perhaps I should soon step away from this life… not because I want to, but because it’s time. Yet, I don’t see it as an end, only as a pause. My heart belongs to the sea, and I know that, no matter what, I will find my way back.
Aagje: That might be the hardest question of all. Not because I don’t have dreams, but precisely because so much is possible and the cards still need to be shuffled.
We are now in Fiji, a place where time seems to flow a little slower. Where saying goodbye brings both pain and space. We have Lille Venn waved goodbye, a boat with friends we shared for a year and a half. But the farewell that is coming will touch even deeper: soon Rajesh will leave My Motu to build his own life in India.
That will be a new chapter. A falling anchor in our journey. A period of recalibration. Because suddenly, we’re no longer just the three of us. Suddenly, the rhythm on board changes, the dynamics, the conversations, the responsibility.
For Jeroen and me, a time of choices has dawned. Big, open choices. Do we continue? And if so: where to, for how long, for what purpose? Do we stay at sea, or does something within us beckon for solid ground, for a different kind of adventure?
Our feelings are still all over the place. And that’s okay. We’ve learned to leave room for the unknown. Not to make hasty decisions, but to listen to what’s moving inside. Fortunately, we have that time.
The only thing we do know is that we’ll be spending the upcoming cyclone season in New Zealand. There we’ll be working on the boat, but perhaps even more on ourselves. That’s where we want to feel where our hearts desire.
In three years? I don’t dare to say. Maybe we’ll still be at sea. Maybe we’ll live in a small house in a village. Maybe we’ll be alternating between two worlds. Anything is possible.
But one thing I know for sure: the sea will always be a part of me. And as long as I can chart a course together with Jeroen, everything will be fine.
What would you never want to miss again and what would you most like to change today?
Rajesh: From a boy who was once afraid of the sea to a man who now feels at home there, I never want to lose the wonder I feel underwater. The silence, the colors, the life… it’s like entering another world. I want to keep diving, keep exploring, and keep being amazed.
But I also see the damage: coral bleaching, warming waters, and fish disappearing. And I know this beauty won’t last unless we do something. If I could change one thing today, it would be to be more involved, to lend my hands and heart to the people already working to protect the reefs. I want to do more than just witness this world. I want to help save it.
Aagje: There are things about this life I couldn’t possibly live without. The freedom to move with the wind. The rhythm of nature: rising with the sun, sleeping under the stars. The simplicity of days unfolding naturally.
I don’t want to miss the proximity of the sea. Its sound, its power, its capriciousness. How it challenges me, comforts me, makes me feel small, yet simultaneously grand.
And then the intensity of this life. You feel everything more raw. Joy, fatigue, frustration, connection… nothing stays on the surface. That makes it harder, but also more real. You are so present. No autopilot, no noise.
And there’s the togetherness. Not fleeting, but truly living together. Every day. Every decision. Every success and every failure. It has deepened our bond in a way I never could have anticipated.
If I could change one thing today, I would choose a world without war. Where conflicts are resolved with words instead of weapons. And for a planet that no longer warms. Where forests continue to grow, oceans remain clear, and animals can live safely. A world where peace and nature breathe together, and we learn to treat all living things with care and respect.
Jeroen : What would I never want to miss? The delicious food we serve here every day. But above all: sharing this life with the people I love. Enjoying together, discovering together, living together—that’s what makes this journey truly worthwhile.
What would I most like to change today? Maybe an extra dose of motivation to get some exercise.
What does freedom mean to you and has that feeling changed since we left?
Jeroen: For me, freedom means living without an agenda, without a fixed rhythm dictated by obligations or expectations. Just living in the moment, doing what feels right at that moment. That’s something I’ve only truly come to appreciate since we left.
But freedom is more than just having time. During our trip, I’ve become increasingly aware of something else: the simple fact that we ‘re allowed to travel. That with our Dutch passports, we’re welcome almost anywhere in the world. Not everyone has that luxury. Many people might long to explore the world, but are bogged down by rules, visas, or political restrictions, even if they have the money or the will. That realization makes me grateful. We are so privileged, and I realize that now more than ever.
Aagje: Before we left, I thought freedom was mostly about space. About letting go of obligations, escaping rigid structures, leaving when you want, going where the wind takes you. Freedom as the opposite of being stuck.
But since we’ve been on our way, I’ve discovered that freedom is much more layered. Deeper. Sometimes even uncomfortable. Because freedom isn’t just what you let go of, it’s also what you have to Carrying responsibility . The responsibility for your own choices, the lack of safety nets, the loneliness that can arise when you live outside the system.
Yet this life still feels free to me. Perhaps more so than ever. Freedom for me now means living in alignment with my values. Being able to decide for myself what my days look like. Following my own rhythm, giving free rein to my creativity. Freedom also means seeing the world as it is, without a filter. Raw, beautiful, unpredictable.
It’s the realization that I don’t have control every day, but I do have a choice. The choice to stay, to leave, to be silent or to speak, to stay true to what resonates within. Freedom sometimes also means daring to say no to other people’s expectations. And yes to myself.
Has my sense of freedom changed since we left? Yes. It’s become more mature. Less stodgy, more lived-in. Freedom isn’t a constant state of euphoria for me. It’s become an attitude towards life. A gentle, firm conviction: that I’m allowed to live in a way that suits me, even if it’s incomprehensible to others.
Rajesh: I come from an independent country, yes, but even then, life on land is filled with rules, routines and expectations.
Freedom is a big word, and it means something different to everyone. But for me… this is freedom. It’s a departure without a fixed time. Snorkeling with turtles, observing dolphins, and watching an octopus disappear into the coral.
It’s photographing life as it unfolds: unplanned, raw, and real. Sunsets set the sky ablaze, sunrises promise new beginnings, and full moons illuminate the ocean like a dream. It’s the starry skies , the quiet moments, and being with the people I love.
It may sound simple, but for me, this is freedom. And since we left, I haven’t just found it… I’ve lived it.
Finally
Life at sea isn’t a succession of islands and anchorages, but an ongoing dialogue with yourself, nature, and each other. Dreams emerge and change, freedom takes on new forms, and the future remains fluid. What remains is the connection with the water and the conviction that there are always new directions to chart.
But how has this journey shaped us as people? Which qualities proved powerful, and which sometimes held us back? What does it feel like to grow older at sea, far from the certainties of the past? And what if we ever stop?
In our last part we tell: What remains, what changes and what we want to pass on
MESSAGES ON BOARD
Leave a message
Share a thought, question or greeting. Aagje reads every comment before it appears here.
Loading comments…