Charting the Sea

Landlessness alone resides the highest truth

This is my medium, for now at least.

It’s fun to create things that other people find value in, but my mission was always about charting the seas and exploring the depths.

As much as I wanted to involve everyone else, it always came back to me, alone, in the woods, on the beach, in the jungle, peering out over the ocean, sitting beside the river. Often with a pen and a page, sometimes with a phone on airplane mode.

The closer I get to my life, the more influential I become for the lives around me. It wasn't the goal, but in immersing myself in my own existence, I discovered that this is the primary means to communicate a message, not only to myself but to the world.

Not through science, literature, or dominating arguments, but by getting deeply involved in my life until not just my hands, but my entire body was covered in mud, until that became my way of operating.

My mind shed many of its insecurities. I don’t remember who I was supposed to be or how I was to act within that character. I forgot my lines.

I am closer to the earth than I’ve ever been. My skin makes contact with grass, sand, humans, and animals so much so that I don’t recollect a life where I was so insulated with buildings, shoes, clothes, and beliefs.

I can stretch out and not wonder who’s looking or how I look to them. I remember that, but when things fall away; you barely remember them, even if they were yesterday. Once they are gone, it’s as if they never were.

Though the better part of life encapsulated me in this captivity, I don’t think about my cell or visiting my old friends in prison since I’ve been out living in the world.

How many inmates make regular visits back to their cells and old stomping grounds?

Maybe that helps put it into perspective. Once you are out, it makes very little sense, unless maybe you’ve left something of value, but I imagine that is very unlikely.

It may seem strange, and there are people who are certain I am deranged. I cannot deny any accusations. Within the legal system that confines every mind, there’s a good chance that I’d be guilty.

But how many aliens have been brought before a judge? How about the werewolves growing hair and howling at night? Or the children that have become adults? Sure, many have been accused, stories have circulated, but as far as it’s concerned, these things happen at such a minuscule rate, they go entirely unnoticed, dismissed as something that may not even be possible. But then again, it depends on who you ask.

“But as in landlessness alone resides the highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God - so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land!”

―Herman Melville,Moby Dick