capsized mind, shipwrecked at heart

capsized mind, shipwrecked at heart

beautiful boat daylight foggy
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

the romance of being lost at sea
this seems almost un-conceivable these days, but it still happens, a little vessel out there with a lone inhabitant, far from any home or harbor, and aside from the starvation I might admire, or envy such a ride, at least in my mind, drifting, in no general direction, or at least the perception, at the whim of nature completely, as we pretend not to be here on terra firma, but truly adrift, to admire the marine life that might approach, I wonder if I could, or should, start a company that promotes such travel, a shipwreck in style, the capsized life for a boatload of dough, of course sans the starvation and wilson ball (and perhaps the extra facial hair – maybe that is negotiable), there would have to be some ground rules though of course, no internet, nope, no way, no cell phone, GPS phone just for emergencies, some sort of solar power array for lights at night and storage of foodstuffs, no grey poupon, fishing gear yes, I wonder if currents can be planned out upon, like certain times of the year for a near perfect route, now this sounds more like a headache the more I think about it, but to make it safe, maybe that would draw the allure out of it all anyway, the fear, the danger, the chance that you are not found at all, how could you capture that all? hmmm… a desert island might be a better control option, but there is just something mesmerizing to me, to be out to sea, just drifting, no control, hoping for a chat with a dolphin, or the moon laddered toward me across the water at night, of course avoiding the teeth and fury of any storm, just floating along like a kite where the wind may take you pulling that string of yarn… there is peace in that lack of control, if only you can let go…

white and black moon with black skies and body of water photography during night time
Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

…but imagine the pageantry, lying on your back, a conjured perfect pillow propping up  your noggin, just you, your mind and the night sky, not a soul in sight, stars almost close enough to pluck right out like buttons, you have the time to count and name them all if you wish, concoct your own constellations, draft your own lines between, drifting along in the vast swell like you are your own little galaxy, riding – the subtle waves up and down in inches, the calming sound as each beat gently raps your vessel, and your hand which is dangling just breaking the water surface, nothing to control, nothing around, nothing to worry about, nothing but everything to contemplate, perhaps the sound of deep distant dreaming whales singing a song your subconscious can sing along and also answer, exhale, just a dot on the great wide water of the earth, for me this is truly an intoxicating dream… but aren’t nearly all impossible things… ? … ?

 

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