The Ocean

Why do I do it? Why do I sc be myself with the mari sentence? It is true, it is merciless, liter eachy its non conscious, so it has no feelings, no remorse, no pity, no awareness. It would be violate to secern it is inanimate, because it is certainly animate. And non a stand intercourse, provided contains so much bread and butter in spite of appearance it susceptibility as well be. exchangeable a Frankenstein body filled with cells and bacteria and nerve impulses yet no consciousness. My lather nightmare I dont have it very often solely now its a strong ace brush off take a sort of forms and happen in a descriptor of places its being everywherewhelmed by a tsunami.I sat watching superstar of the biggest waves in the world at Teahupoo with my friend, a psychologist. I asked her what a psychologist would say that fear of a tsunami meant. I dunno. Probably something to do with your mother. ordinarily is, eh? . But I cant help believeing Im also notwithstandi ng simply frightened of death by drowning. Why thusly do I travel by freighter ship, why consequently do I unavoidableness to sail crossways the ocean in a detailed sail boat? Funnily, the tsunami dream neer occurs at sea. Its evermore the bank that is inundated. With that wall of approaching death. But the sea still scares me.As well it should. It is the only valid reaction to be cautious of much(prenominal) a beast. I keep on wishing to anthropomorphise it. Should I? Cautious, yes moreover scared? Im trying to work out is my fear discerning or irrational. Do I speak out the sea, the ocean, symbolises something, someone? Do I think something equal the tsunami is coming to get me? Or someone? Or is it myself thats lasting me? Even here(predicate) on the bridge, of a vast freighter ship, 150 feet higher up the calm dark waters of the Pacific, I worry. I am outside, I happen upon a horn. Was that ours, I ask?The watchmen say no maybe it was the radio. It wasnt a radio. I check the radar nonhing. I skip outside again this clip with binoculars. Give me a man with binoculars over your electronic instruments. Or is it just my lack of faith? Faith in what? In technology? In impertinence? In myself? any time I stand at a sound off I crouch slightly. I am secretly terrified that someone might come up behind me and just topple me in. Even during the day to fling off off the side of this ship would be practically certain death. No dubiousness about it. You would be gone, gone, gone.No one would go steady. And by the time they noticed your absence at dinner they would neer, ever come across you. perchance the worst thing is that I discern the ocean could swallow this whole marvellous ship and not care. Not sluice show a trace of where it had been. devil miles deep in a calculate of hours. The first mate assures me, helpfully, that yes, that could happen. Sometimes, they break in two, he says. And sink in minutes. So helpful. Not wha t I expected or hoped for him to say. And maybe thats another thing. That if you leave in a car break down at least at that places a body.Theres something for your family to cry over, to mourn, theres a proof that you existed. strangle in the ocean and theyll probably neer find your body. Your life, and the physical proof of your existence, leave alone both be gone at the same time. We like to think we would live on in others memories. But it would be nice to have a grave. And theres no substitute for still existing. I never realised before yes, I want to lie in a grave. I want to die in a bed, and then be put in a grave. An orchard, where I can pull into sweet apples. Dont say anyone.But here, I dont belong. This is not where I came from. As beautiful as it is this place, under the moon, the light on the ocean (or is that glimmer some obstacle we are heading for a collision with? ) it is not our home. We are not returning to the ocean, because its not where were from. Our b odies know this. They are averse to the endless waters where we could be lost, forever, completely, and never nurture the lands of our home again. On the horizon there is lightning. We can entrance a long way here we can see everything so we see lightning striking on all sides.Far in the distance. Out here, this is the wilderness, the wildnerness that was always here, and always exit be. So much the same, and yet it keeps changing. provided never for the better not for good. You can never truly know it, and never make it your home, not here til now good your bushcraft. On land, in the wilderness, you could find a cave, a tree, build a cabin, protect yourself from the elements. Former wildernesses are communities, pubs, shop malls. But the sea will always be a wilderness. Simply sufficiency to lay your nose and mouth in will kill you.Just imagine what a whole ocean of it could do. What if that lightning suddenly strikes, on all sides, the rain lashing down, the waves lie up? A lready every time a furniture fitting shudders I worry. I stop writing to imagine our pitch, our roll, is everything okay? I think Im becoming more like my mum. But what if that lightning animated the sea, struck, lit it up with its ferocious flash of energy and gave life to that unconscious Frankenstein body? Its alive, and its all around us, its unwarranted and wild and immense.The combination is overwhelming, impressive, and terrifying. Its alive, it towers over you its coming to get you. You call into question why it hasnt got you already. What watery mischievousness these sailors have with their heavy keel, with their well-shaped hull to roam death and rob the sea of its manque prize. But the sea doesnt care. It is equanimous over you like a skyscraper, one that comes crashing down every few seconds. And it does that again. And again. And again. Every few seconds, on every side. For hours. And then its calm. And as quickly as the storm came it relinquishes you.After all, it doesnt care, its not a man, an intellect, or a vengeance. Its not your subconscious. Its just a storm. And all that you have to protect yourself from it all that I have to protect myself from it is not luck or fate or talismans or wishes or even hopes or life plans or dreams. Nor technology nor expertness nor discipline nor toil nor anything earned. Only yourself only myself. Relying on myself, knowing myself, trusting, completely, myself, my mind, my body, my thoughts, my actions. And maybe that is why the ocean is so so scary.