15 Saturday Jun 2013
Posted in Random Thoughts., Writing
Problems are as inevitable and expected as knowing that rain is wet. How you handle those problems is the only thing that matters. Will you use them as bricks, adding to the breadth and weight of the wall before you, or will you use them as stepping stones to line your path?
As Bob Bitchin says, “The difference between an ordeal and an adventure is attitude!”
25 Saturday May 2013
Posted in Dance with the Sea, Writing
Tags
“The snotgreen sea. The scrotum tightening sea.” ~James Joyce, 1882–1941.
When that was originally inked, I am sure that James Joyce wasn’t thinking about Coke and Pepsi bottles floating in the surf, plastic bottle caps killing seaborne birds by the nesting site, nor do I think he envisioned oceanic gyres—the giant, mid-ocean swirls of trash of our time. No. When I read his words, I know he was expressing the awesome beauty of the stormy sea: Of stomach-churning, monstrous waves; of roaring, sail-shredding tempests; and the sudden calmness and grandeur found in the eye of the hurricane.
While working this morning on the novel, a couple of couples in their dinghies motored by. From my vantage point a couple of floors above I watched in both amazement and joy at what they were doing — picking up what trash they could reach along the shore. And judging by the already full bags of trash in their inflatables, they were being very successful at cleaning up what the inconsiderate tossed aside.
There is always something that I (and you) can do to help make our oceans healthier, cleaner and better than what we inherited from past generations. And the first step is to stop being indifferent to it. Instead of stepping over a piece of plastic that I know will eventually blow into the water, I need — and promise — to take three seconds out of my day and throw it away.
There are organizations that, while not a joiner, I can emulate. There are things I can do, even when I am 1,000 miles from the nearest dirt, to help those who are tabulating and trying to diagnose the state of today’s oceans. I have downloaded the Secchi App and have built a Secchi Disk to help them monitor the phytoplankton levels in the Pacific Ocean.
From their website:
“The marine phytoplankton account for approximately 50% of all photosynthesis on Earth and, through the plankton food web that they support, they both underpin the marine food chain and play a central role in the global carbon cycle strongly influencing the Earth’s climate.
Living at the surface of the sea the phytoplankton are particularly sensitive to changes in sea surface temperature. A recent study of global phytoplankton abundance over the last century concluded that global phytoplankton concentrations have declined due to rising sea surface temperatures as a consequence of current climate change.
We need to know much more about these changes and you can help by making a simple piece of scientific equipment called a Secchi Disk and using the Secchi App.”
<a href="http://www1.plymouth.ac.uk/marine/secchidisk/Pages/default.aspx“>
(http://www1.plymouth.ac.uk/marine/secchidisk/Pages/default.aspx)
A final, sad little note that’s sums up the state of our oceans was this scene I saw this morning: A seagull had become entangled in fishing line, landed atop a light pole here on Shelter Island, which then became entangled to the light. I am sure the ensuring cacophony of clarion shrieks didn’t last long before it died where you see it, just as thousands of other creatures needlessly die every week.
Please take three seconds out of your day and throw it away.
13 Monday May 2013
It has been a while since I’ve updated the blog, but it has nothing to do with the dream, which, by the way, is alive and well! Yes, I’m still sitting on the beach looking out onto the water instead of spending the weekends being anchored out in Mariner’s Cove (32°46.089 N, 117°14.959 W)
Instead of working on the boat, I have been busy trying to make and save money, replying to an IRS Tax audit from back when I was unemployed for 1,000 days. Wells Fargo, it seems, discharged my debt after two years of harassing phone calls, threats of lawsuits, thrashing and trashing my credit score…
OKAY! Enough of that bad juju. Anyway, I survived the audit and I am moving on.
So, anyway, I didn’t mean to go off on a rant as this was meant to be a quick post about sitting on the shore and looking out onto my favorite anchorage. If I ever needed motivation to sail Sine Metu across the Pacific then this is the place to come. A morning walk along the shore, watching the rays and fish swim by, feeling the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the morning breeze as I walk along the shore. My pants legs rolled up, shoes in my hand and splash the still-brisk water as I stroll along, sipping a cup of coffee.
The project is about over, extended another eight weeks until mid-July, and my budget is pretty sound, but tight. Pride aside, if you can Donate to the Dream and help me make this writing hiatus a reality, please do — and thank you in advance!
01 Saturday Dec 2012
Tags
An excerpt from my journal dated January, 2010.
“I know so many people out there right now that are struggling to make ends meet, struggling to put food on the table, struggling to keep a roof over their heads. Struggling just to struggle…” JB
Never underestimate the value of a $3 cigar.
Even when everything else in the world seems to be rotting on the vine, holding onto a single, small treasure like a cigar can give you at least a moment to look forward to at the end of a long, long week of sending out resumes, trying to scratch a living off of the internet, eBay, or Craigslist. With benefits having ran out, they take on an even greater meaning that I could not quantify. To me, it felt like hope wrapped with fond memories and when lit, turned into a moment – a timeout – from all of my troubles.
When all you can afford is one drink, make sure you drink on an empty stomach.
I am a realist. I see things as they are and not with labels. The glass is neither half full nor half empty, it’s simply a glass of water that doesn’t look like it will slosh out and splash all over me if I walk with it. Splurging on Happy Hour one day, I sat there with my one, $2 beer and pondered things for a few minutes. I came to this conclusion, “I can only afford this one beer. But, since I haven’t eaten, this is turning out to be one great beer!” Obviously already buzzed, I slowly nursed that single amber pint and relaxed more than I have in a long time.
Stress manifests itself in many ways and with me, it was a weight that bent my back. Hunched over, it seemed like that weight crushed my gaze inevitably downward. But, that one beer on an empty stomach seemed to give me just enough of a buzz that it made me relax; I could feel my shoulders loosen, my posture shift and I lifted my eyes up from the ground and found myself watching people walk by. Being able to sit at a restaurant amongst people once every eight or nine days, enjoying something as simple as a beer, seemed to matter more to me than the cheap, enjoyable buzz. It meant, for a few sips anyway, I was able to be part of society instead of being quasi-homeless…
White on White: Mayo packets stolen from the corner sandwich shop and mixed with rice and salt.
When you can only afford a scoop of rice per meal and not much else, anything edible that you can add to it, to somehow make it different from the last twenty meals, makes a world of difference. And while everyone says they crave stability, I don’t think anyone would apply that word to their diet. Eating basically the same thing, everyday, is what Jimmy Buffet sang about in Cheeseburger in Paradise, “Warm beer and bread they say could raise the dead…” But, when you are living on $3 a day, variety is usually something you shake out of a spice jar.
Back in our college days, where most of us learned how to be Top Ramen gourmets, we quickly learned how to make the most of our beer budget by adding other ingredients to those golden noodles. Me? I loved cracking an egg or two into the kettle after the noodles were done. They soaked up the spices and became little floating entrees amongst the noodles. But, when you are on the unemployment insurance diet, loosing weight isn’t a problem. After almost two years on it, you are guaranteed to fit into those “skinny jeans” of your younger years. Around day 750, just over 2 years of unemployment, I had a chance to step on a scale and found that I had dropped over 30 pounds, almost 6 inches off my waistline, and every ounce of baby fat I ever had in my face. In fact, looking at photos taken of me three years ago, to looking at myself in the mirror today I can see how my facial features have sunk. My jawline is more pronounced, checks seem thin— I can see muscles under my skin as if I’m eating something crunchy—and my eyes seem bigger somehow…
One day, while walking through the food court at the local mall I pilfered condiment packets off a hotdog stand. Like a pickpocket eyeing a target, I casually drifted towards the table with the napkins and condiment packets, pulled a napkin from the dispenser and made a show of wiping something off my hand, all the while looking casually around to see if anyone was watching… Obviously, it bothered me what I was contemplating (equally obvious, I suck at poker). Pulling out a couple more napkins, I grabbed a few mayonnaise and spicy brown mustard packets, covered them with the napkin, shoved them into my pocket and walked away.
My little larceny was for a cooking experiment: White on White. Since I’m limited to just a microwave to cook with, rice is the bulk of my daily diet. Rice for breakfast and rice for dinner. I can’t afford lunch. White on White is cooked rice, salted to taste, then I mixed in a few of those mayo packets and, voilà, I got something new to eat!
(This was when my food budget was $3.00 per day and the bulk of my diet consisted of a scoop of rice around mid-morning and a scoop for dinner. A scoop was 1 cup.)
Friendships are rented.
Friends and family seem to vanish either because we push them away or because we drift apart. But sometimes, we lock ourselves away into a self-imposed exile because of pride. We are embarrassed by our circumstances. We are no longer who we were, at least from our depressed point of view.
Showing up at Happy Hour is uncomfortable at best, often painful, or simply draining of what energy I had left to simply just to show up. There are so many people out there that have no clue that the person standing next to them (1 in 10 here in California (circa 01/10)) might be unemployed… It’s at those times that you realize that the term “friend” has meaning. It becomes a word that is used to describe those people in your life you can actually talk to and escape your personal exile with for a few moments. They are the ones that will float you $20 until your next Unemployment check so that you can buy 10 days worth of groceries (5lbs rice-$5, fresh veggies-$7, chicken bouillon cubes-$4, special entree of the week (4 cans of chili-$4, pasta sauce, 2 for $4, et cetera)…
Other people in your life will, hopefully, never know or realize that you are (were?) unemployed. These are the people whose “friendship” was rented. They were friends as long as you bought a round from time to time. They were friends when you joined them for Happy Hour once in a while. They were friends that were there only socially.
You know they are rented friends if they never ask, “Hey buddy, what’s up? Haven’t seen you for awhile… Everything okay?”
But, these are the social networking friends that we must ply in our search for employment. These are the old colleagues we bump into from our long lost paycheck days, and lie to, telling them that “oh yeah, things are great now that I’m not with…”
It’s a lie we, the unemployed, tell ourselves, too. We have to. Pride is also rented.
Looking for work is harder than work.
Being unemployed is such a misnomer. Those of us who’ve been unemployed for double-digit months, let alone years, know all too well that we have jobs: Our work is looking for work; our job is getting out of bed every day and trying to remember what day it is (think Groundhog’s Day to the tenth power); our job is trying to force ourselves to get out of bed and tell ourselves that, “Today will be productive.”
Sending resumes to every job opening that you want morphs into sending them to anything that you feel you might possibly be qualified for—even those jobs that you have to dumb-down your resume for by cutting out all references to graduate level education (i.e., a Bachelors of Arts degree in Psychology when you’re applying for a job at Subway), redacting all accomplishments (i.e., 10 years of experience as a Technical Field Trainer), and turning past employment into plain vanilla bullet points (i.e., 14 years of management experience morphs into “People Skills”).
I have about 20 different resumes that I send out not to mention rewriting and editing each one to match the job opening I am applying for because I know that they will run a keyword search on the resume to see if it has the correct buzzwords long before anyone will take the time to even bother to read it.
(Jump to today, December, 2012)
I have decided to post this journal entry so that you will know what the low-water mark of my life was as nothing in my life was as bad as those days. Having no hope left was like a weight on my chest making every breath an effort. Yet, having no dreams was even worse. It was then that I prayed for more weight to keep the air from entering my lungs. It is then that I gave up…
When my unemployed odyssey ended on January 1, 2011, when I started the temp job I’ve had for almost two years now, I had been unemployed for about 1,000 days. In that time I wrote, I walked, and I met Jules; who showed me that I didn’t loose my dreams and that they were still inside of me. She taught me breath once more. To take deep breaths. To gently blow on the embers that were still glowing deep inside and she helped me reignite and resurrect them.
This voyage that I am planing is not a mid-life crisis. Been there, done that already; Gulf War, closing my mother’s eyes when she died of cancer, and two divorces that ripped my heart out don’t even compare to being unemployed for 1,000 days, trying to grasp at any and every straw to keep from drowning in despair, to finally giving into it only to realize that there are worse things. Things that make you remember despair with fond memories.
Oh yeah, one piece of advice if you know someone who is or has been unemployed for a long time; don’t try to prod them into sending out more resumes? It’s like offering a drowning victim a glass of water.
22 Saturday Sep 2012
Posted in Dance with the Sea, Random Thoughts., Writing
The first day of autumn was foggy and gray and I loved it. Walking along Shelter Island’s edge, ships would materialize out of the mist or vanish from sight and mind like a fading dream. Silvery tall shapes ensconced in the foreground with only misty gray for a background reminiscent of a painting in the Abstraction style; where only the essence, the etherial soul of the object, catches the eye and is assembled by the mind as being moored sailboats.
Of course, sailing in fog brings other emotions too. Your eyes plays tricks on your brain when there is a moving deck beneath your feet and every sound is strange and untrustworthy. And if it’s also dark, then you truly begin to wonder if you will fall off the edge of the world. Fear, at times, becomes your crew, especially if you solo-sail as I do. But, and this is only an educated guess as I have not done this yet, with an electric drive pushing you silently through the fog, it will be easier to hear the muffled engines of anything nearby, it will be easier to hear waves breaking on rocks, and it will be easier to relax and enjoy the shrouded world you find yourself it.
I am oh-so looking forward to getting this seaborne sabbatical underway. In fact, in my mind, I am already doing it when it comes to being a consumer. Whenever I start to pull out my wallet to buy anything, and I mean anything, I find myself whispering my little mantra to myself: Can I use this on the boat and am I taking it with me when I go? If no, my wallet gets put away. And so far, it’s not only helping me save money, I’m also loosing weight.
I can’t wait to ghost through the fog of a distant shore aboard Sine Metu. To feel my way through the gray mist to find a safe port to anchor in. To start doing and to stop dreaming.
As Bob Bitchin of Latitudes & Attitudes fame and author of Letters from the Lost Soul says, “Don’t just dream your life, live your dream.”
14 Tuesday Aug 2012
Posted in Random Thoughts., Writing
That morning started off this morning with a Navy ship, a yacht and a small speed boat all passing in the background of this beautiful ketch moored off of Shelter Island. Dawn never really rose that morning; black night and fog wearily melded into a fine gray mist which slowly burned away as the growing brightness painted the world in color — of course, when your day starts before dawn and you haven’t had any coffee, you notice these things.
That was how my morning started. Later that morning, and the reason why I was up at 4:30 AM: flying to Vancouver on Air Canada for work.
During the flight, penned the following:
We have reached our cruising altitude of 32,000 feet, traveling at Bob Seger’s 8 miles a minute. This trip is to Prince George in British Columbia…actually, this is week two of this project as I was there last week. This week’s schedule will be lighter as I only have to deliver one day of training and then provide technical support as needed. This is the week I use to conduct teleconferences, plan future trips and to set myself up for success for future training locations.
This is also the week that I use to plan repairs on the sailboat, which I am painfully behind on. Being my own worst enemy, I beret myself constantly like a good Catholic for all the things that I have not done, for the things I have done and of course, for things out of my control (if I were one…don’t really do religion). As a child, I went to Bible School, got baptized and thought of myself as a Baptists until I was thirty-something. Guess I didn’t pay too much attention in class, eh?
Anyway, before moving on I would like to clarify and espouse upon my religious beliefs as I feel that my little quip about religion might irk some…especially the girl I love with whom I have had the privilege to have dated for the last two years — who is, by the way, religious. Let me get to the heart of the matter right up front and answer the only question that matters; Do I believe in God? My honest answer is… I don’t know. It’s not that I believe or don’t believe, I just simply don’t know. They say there are no atheists in a foxhole, and I’ve seen plenty of evidence that points to the latter more than the former, but any example I give as to God not existing begins and ends with man. Of course, every time I see a gorgeous sunset, feel the caress of the wind with my face or the warmth of the sun I have no doubt that there is something more to this thing we call life than we can or ever will understand by living man. So, I try to keep an open mind and I search for my own answers. Answers without labels, without established dogma, and without preconceived attitudes. I truly believe in my heart that my religion is life. Those who embrace it and live are my brothers and sisters. Is that why I love the cruising life so much? Where people are living their dreams instead of dreaming their lives as Bob Bitchin of Latitudes & Attitudes fame so eloquently proclaims. Or, as Jimmy Buffet may have once said, sailing is the religion of wine and women, of wind and waves…
Okay, let’s get back to sailing!
With the weather getting warm in San Diego and my old cotton sheets beginning to show their age, my mind is shifting from my electric drive and rigging issues and to better sleeping conditions. My plan is to install two 12 volt fans in the V-berth area in addition to some of those new, hi-tech sheets that act like Under Armor and help cool you down on those hot, sultry nights. West Marine also sells a mattress topper that also help cool you instead of trapping warmth like memory foam — both products being made by Sheex.
09 Monday Jul 2012
Posted in Random Thoughts., Writing
While going through airport security this morning on my way to Cabo San Lucas with my girlfriend, the thought of what the X-Ray screener was seeing made me laugh. First bin, my boat shoes and the obligatory 3 ounce liquids – sunscreen, Chapstick, deodorant, cologne, and toothpaste; then my shoulder bag flowed by with my belt, watch, passport, airline tickets, my wallet in one of those RFID shielded organizers, iPad, various charging cables, iPhone and brand new prescription Kaenon sunglasses; and lastly on the conveyor belt was my carry on suitcase packed with swim shorts, t-shirts, a Patagonia pullover sun-hoodie (love those, by the way!), toothbrush, razor (more for my head than my chin) and two pairs of shoes…
Yep, three pairs of shoes for a three day weekend. I know, high maintenance. But, I do have cause and reason and need for such a variety of footwear, I swear!
You see, my girlfriend and I are heading to Cabo for the weekend to celebrate our two year anniversary and she is going to wear this amazing dress when we go out to dinner on Saturday. And since I am not that much of a boating bohemian, yet, despite how hard I try to foster that as my personal mythology, I appreciate an excuse to wear my best — hence the need to polish up and pack along my Ferragamo shoes. I plan on wearing them with (gast!) my Agave jeans and a Hugo Boss dress shirt which, of course, will remain untucked…you can can take me off the boat, but you can’t take the boat out of me.
Oh yeah, the third pair of shoes are my Teva Omnium Sandals. Perfect for when I’m wandering about the hotel, heading out to the pool, sipping margaritas while writing this and so on.
As a writer, I love wandering around and checking out the area, but I have never been one of those tourists that rush from attraction to attraction, from historical or natural marvel to the next in a blind-flurry, all-or-nothing effort to check off some imaginary list of been-there’s and done-thats in order to justify a vacation…
FYI, if you feel the need to justify a vacation then it’s time for an escape!
Okay, it’s now day two of Cabo…
My girlfriend and I are staying at the Hilton Los Cabos Beach & Golf Resort, which is actually about 25 KM or so to the east of the famous Lands End arches, too far to walk, but this hotel has a swimmable beach, which we enjoyed Friday afternoon after we checked in. And while it was fun getting knocked down by warm waves and heavy undertow, it really sucked having my brand new, $570 prescription Kaenon sunglasses washed off my face and vanish into the depths…24 hours old and never to be seen again.
Okay, time to stop dwelling on their demise. Time for a Romeo Y Julieta, Habana – Cuba and a Negra Modelo…asking for cerveza is about as much Spanish as I can manage. It’s not a mild cigar, but at about $13 American, it was cheap enough to have and commemorate, but I wouldn’t smoke two of these bad little boys. Too damn strong for my mild preference. I usually like cigars that have a more mild, maybe even buttery texture to them like Romeo Y Julieta’s Bully, Connecticut Shade Nubs, or Montechristo White Labels. Lately though, my tastes have been edging slightly higher to cigars like Gurkha 15-year old Anniversary series. I especially love the short one with the pig tail end cap. Fantastic smoke with a straight Single Malt like a 15 year old Glenlivet or Glenmorangie’s LaSanta, Nectar D’Or, or my favorite, a Quinta Ruban with two ice cubes, max, mind you.
It’s 2:00 PM and my girlfriend is napping the heat of the afternoon away in our AC’ed room as I sit down here in La Vista bar overlooking the ocean…
Okay, slipped away there for a while as it is now Day 3 of Cabo.
I’ve talked my girlfriend into coming down with to the pool this morning, before dawn. She was very reluctant at first, but then I convinced her that we’d certainly be able to grab one of those big cabanas and she would be able to stretch out, enjoy the dawn with me and sleep if she wanted to…she slept!
Anyway, this is the view from where we lounged Sunday morning. Overlooking the infinity pool’s edge out onto the Pacific Ocean. There was a palapa on the beach with a white and blue panga pulled up onto the sand beside it. It was visually wondrous to watch the first rays of dawn illuminate that vista.
Swimming this morning, looking up at this gorgeous resort, into the cabana where that gorgeous young woman slept and it hit me; damn I hope my books sell, I really want this life!,
18 Wednesday Jan 2012
Sine Metu ~ Without Fear
The dream is taking shape! A two year, singlehanded voyage of the Pacific. In the spirit of Joshua Slocum and Henry David Thoreau, two of my childhood heroes, I am rebuilding a 1963 Columbia sailboat to pause, unplug and witness life as I slowly cruise a slightly larger pond than Walden and dance with the sea.
The name of the sailboat is Sine Metu, which is Latin for without fear.
• Option A – Depart November, 2012.
Sail from California, south to Mexico for a couple of months and wait for the Trade Winds to build up and make the 25-day jump to the Marquesas. Then take a year cruising the South Pacific as I work my way to New Zealand. After a few months, I would start the cruise back via Australia, Asia, Alaska and the Pacific Northwest.
• Option B – Depart April, 2013.
Sail north from San Diego up to San Francisco, then heading out to sea as if going to Hawaii. Then, after about 1,000 miles (8 to 10 days) I would make the tack towards Alaska and make my way down the coast of the Pacific Northwest all the way south to San Diego by October, 2013. Then, I would shift over to Option A’s course.
Obviously, all of this depends on what funds will be available, and/or whether or not I have work. Right now, I am making fairly good living as a temporary Contract Field Trainer. And after being unemployed for 1,111 days (yeah, you read that right!) between January, 2008, until January, 2011, I know what it means to loose everything, to go hungry and to loose hope…
Anyway, to afford all of this time off, in addition to savings, I will write as I go. I’ve been writing professionally now for two years with a little success in Social Media; writing content for websites, press kits and ghostwriting articles (it appears as though my lifelong hobby has grown up and has turned into an income producing, part-time job). And my temporary job is keeping me pretty busy for the next six months or so, so it will keep me funded as I rebuild this soon to be 50 year old sailboat and build up my nest egg for this seaborne sabbatical.
“Leap and the net will appear.” ~ John Burroughs
Update — January, 2013
Well, I’m sitting in a Starbucks in Grand Junction, Colorado, as I write this so you know I haven’t departed yet. It is 24°f and everything was covered in frost on this chilly morning. It is 6:22 AM and still dark outside. I’m telling you this because this dream hasn’t been avoided nor cancelled, simply delayed as the project I’m on has been extended. Some people call them Freedom Chips, but I like to call it saving for the dream. And yes, we are talking about money.
So far, my budget has climbed to the point that I will finally be able to drop the mast and re-rig it. As I have to replace the frayed stainless steel rigging anyway, I have decided to go with Colligo Marine’s Dyneema Dux system as it will reduce weight aloft, last well beyond my planned voyage, can be fixed while sailing if need be, and a whole lot stronger than stainless steel (roughly, SWL of 5,000 pounds verse 16,000 pounds). When I drop the mast I also have to re-wire it for VHF, navigation lights (currently thinking of adding a Tri-Color masthead light with anchor, photosensor (to automatically turn on at night) and strobe capabilities), and wind instruments. I will write more once I come to a decision as to what those will be.
This delay is making me a little manic though. I dream about my food lockers and that I need a double sink; about how comfortable my berth is at night when it’s raining outside (dreaming about sleeping?) and how great it will be once the Hydrovane is installed and steering the boat. In short, this voyage is already being played out in my mind daily and I love it!
Hopefully I will be able to find a home for this nesting dinghy on top of the cabin under the boom. It is a little too big, so I might end up selling it and getting a roll up inflatable instead — on a small boat, think small. For now, it makes a great foredeck hatch cover!
17 Tuesday Jan 2012
What a sad little world we live on. There are no more monsters, no more Gods, no place left for the common man to explore that hasn’t been commercialized, exploited, or ravaged by those who’ve come before us.
Gone are the unclimbable peaks, the unreachable quests and the unbearable depths from which the human spirit can search for meaning.
Today, life is Googled, information is assimilated, studied, and questions are quenched before the spark of imagination even has a chance to flare. The slightest whim of curiosity is inundated with pre-assembled answers, reasons, rules, and absolute been-there/been-done statements of fact.
When I was younger I read Peter Benchley’s book, Creature, in which he writes, “A man needs something with which to aim his life at.” That statement is oh-so-damn true to me! A simplified mantra which reminds me that goals and dreams are needed in our lives. That without them, as I discovered while unemployed all those many, many months, is that without those dreams, without a target with which to aim at, you’re dead inside. There is a world of difference between living life and simply living; the former is the warmth of the sun on your face, the feel of full, ready lungs as you crest the top of the roller coaster, the latter is simply biological existence.
But in some of us burns a pesky little gene that we inherited from those who did climb mountains, sail the oceans singlehanded, or head out into the woods to live lives not known by common men in common hours. The gene fuels the need in us for the unknown and taunts us deep inside when we lack that abyss before us. Simply put, it is ingrained into our psyches to wonder what’s over that horizon.
To truly be alive you have to live: The adventurer’s heart needs that horizon; the poet’s soul longs for a taste of freedom from the prepackaged order and set answers of this sad little world.
