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)
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.
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