Moby-Dick :: Chapter 22 :: Merry Christmas

Mister Ishmael ~

A Whalin' we will go,
A Whalin' we will go.
High Ho the Merry oh,
A Whalin' we will go.

You might ask, "Does it matter?" Why of course it matters.
It matters the world over, who the pilot will be.
And for the Pequod, she required two pilots to gain an offing and out to sea, out to sea to be free.
And such pilots they were, Mr Peleg and Mr Bildad, as each of us might be, escaping tarriff and extra fee as we possibly can, looking out for ourself and our own. Happy and sad in the same moment, for the friend who, be it person or prospects, is 'ere and anon, with each turning of a tide.

With every curse and every song, every adversary and every opportunity, devil and angel alike, the chances are just chances. To set sail upon life with mates unknown to us, we double guess our actions and quadruple guess our choices. At moments doubt ourselves when unsavourey events occur, but throughout our insides, when we listen well, we know who is good and who is not good, for us to be in bed with.

So we sail with the tides that come all around with regular frequency. Whom will come next? Where will we be taken? How big will be the whale of our next incarnation? Spring, Spring. Be Alert! Heave Ho!

It matters what course we take.

But I must ask the question. Why such a hurry?

I mean, why would anyone choose to leave out on Christmas Day? So much talk about bibles and "a copy of Watts in each seaman's berth." Why not have a Christmas Day service and a high-holy-day meal together and depart two days later, after Christmas? Leaving in November is still too early, for hurricane season is not yet complete, that makes sense; but setting sail two days after Christmas would host no folly. Ahhh, but I miss the mark. How better the story goes with identifiable dates to target the way and bleed our souls for misery.

How much time did it take to sail from Nantucket to the Carribean anyway? Two weeks maybe? From stormy frozen northland to balmy, no-shirt, tropical latitudes we sail to warm ourselves as lizards upon the rocks.

Who should be my pilot other than myself?  For there is no one better.

I blindly plunge like fate into the deep unknown, aware there is something I want which the entire universe will conspire in helping me to obtain.^

Trust Your Journey (tm)

~ ijil Rainbow Hawk Giver

* original quote, coined word or phrase by ijil RHG (c) ever and anon

^ reworded unabashedly from "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it." written by Paulo Coehlo in The Alchemist.

Moby-Dick :: Chapter 12 :: Biographical

Mister Ishmael ~

I came to this understanding early in my life that we are born exactly where we are grow up, around the people we are to know, and situated in the situations that will fully shape us to be the people we are to become; and that is why most people can't wait to get away. To run as far and as fast as circumstances, resources and opportunity will afford them. So it was with your new friend, so it was with you, so it has been with most of my close companions and so it was with me.

Only how to run? by land or by sea or even these days by air? Which is the best way to get away from all the comforts and goodness of early life into your own dreams and other people's schemes of later life. How far have you run? And more importantly who have you chosen to run with? How is it that we choose our life companions and confidants? By dumb luck or by shear grace. Well, that all depends on how we listen and how fearful we are. Surely each of you have your own tale to tell. Days of uncertainly, hours of dread, stiff with morose doubt, or comatose with depression. But still, somehow we move.

When we are young, it is easier, for by some misguided instinct we know we have many years to correct whatever wrong turn we might take, although naively convinced that will never happen to us. We (the proverbial we of course), we set out in search of something, we know not what. But surely we are told to go, encouraged to head away to college, suggested we travel to a foreign land, and we do, we set out seeking something better than we had before. For somewhere there is indeed something better than was before, as every common saying tells us. But for others, each step away is further into a land where we sink and never fully recover.

That has been my tale. Each step away was a monumental step in the wrong direction. And the constant telling to myself that there is something better out there somewhere, if I can find it, than what I already had, was a colossal lie. A deceit that never borne out any resemblance to something greater or something better. Yes, I learned a lot. But much learned in the learning game can be learned right where you are, and in a less stressful way. And sometimes, sometimes, at least with me, it was the learning of how to stay put instead of the constant running to somewhere else. No place is going to be better if you constantly take yourself with you, until you learn to be with yourself. That was the first thing that I learned.

By stopping and being still, I learned the most of what I am. And the further away a child goes from home, the closer they are to always being home. But in the journeys away from the source, what dirtiness has been cast over, what filth adheres which can never be washed clean. How many lies to we tell ourselves so that we are able to stay in the same place, and endure the same rotten behavior and impositions? Just so you know--one lie is too many.

What epic-sized myth must be spun to stay standing upright upon this earth? For those of you who can honestly say "none", I applaud you. But to most I have witnessed, the lie is so complete that the deception to self can not begin to curl back the steel shell that protects. For those of you who say "never". I wonder out loud how far down the road you have traveled and how poor is thou hearing and thou memory. For the sails are set and whipping in the most unnatural way.

As each step is taken, each gravely crunch below the boot, binds the man to the wonder of the earth forever. I am sure that is why we travel. Yet our roots never grow too deep that we can not run when we see trouble in our realm. Escape, escape, escape. But now that I am old, I am sure that there is no escape.

Now that I am old, I know it is far better to stand and fight, than ever it was to turn in flight. I am fully Occupied, it is time to do what our parents before us did not. "Don't rock the boat" I remember being told at every age. Well, now I am sure this boat needs to be rocked, so the babies can at last sleep in peace.

Let me puff the last puff, touch my forehead to yours, and then say goodnight, elest I will never be fully baptisted again for tomorrow is another adventure.

Trust Your Journey (tm)

~ ijil Rainbow Hawk Giver

* original quote, coined word, or phrase by ijil RHG (c)

Moby-Dick :: Chapter 11 :: Nightgown

Mister Ishmael ~

A quiet scene
thoughtful touch
of midnight smoke
and words not much
pleasant warmth
of a new friend
with whom this voyage
may soon begin.

Eyes shut tight
against the light
knees pulled close
air just right.

A loaded pipe
in the still night
smoke curls slowly
devil's flight.

Lots of time
talk comes slow
gentle words
and trust
doth grow.

Listen well
til morn doth come
to know another
to know thy self.

Trust Your Journey (tm)

~ ijil Rainbow Hawk Giver

* original quote, coined word, or phrase by ijil RHG (c)