From atop a tall peak

It seems like the world has just slowed down into this amazing pace – not only of relaxation, but of serenity. For all the chaos that was surrounding this trip before departure, all of the worries of the unknown and such, standing atop a tall cliff overlooking the harbor made everything just kind of melt away. The concept of stress didn’t occur to me. I had no worries (in that totally overused phrase kind of way). Atop that peak I could look out over the harbor and see all the boats patiently waiting at their docks waiting for the next adventure.

I however, related more to those boats that were already out at sea, those boats that were so far out you can’t see them. Those boats are seizing every moment of the day, embracing the sky and the ocean for all it’s worth. I feel like one of those adventuring boats. Leading up to this trip, I was that boat at the dock.

Think about it. A boat that is tethered to a pier is pretty dag gum useless. It’s on a short leash, tied to a structure that will keep it from going anywhere. I was a boat on a short leash, I knew the world was big and that I had to potential to float out and see it, but there was a bind that held be back. I was stuck to a “mental pier”.

As my plane took off from Knoxville, I felt there was a sudden cutting of a rope. A felt as if that pier that I was tethered to was blown to pieces and I was heading full speed ahead out to see, only to see brave new waters and navigate through potentially stormy seas.

Of course, I’m the boat; the seas are the roads; the waves that crash against me are the various circumstances I get into; the next port of entry is my next town I decide to float into; you get the picture. It helps substantially that I feel that my “boat” is more watertight than every before. That weak hulled marine mobile I once was is now a hard core tough mother of a Viking Ship. Give me those wave, I’ll slice right through them.

If you haven’t ready my stuff before, it’s very unlike me to take a nautical stance – but it’s really hard not to here in San Diego. The world just seems to melt into this beautiful blue oblivion. Upon looking out over that vast nothingness, I realized those that see the horizon have to be brave enough to follow it – the only way to follow it is to have one tough boat and a whole bunch of, ahem, cajones.

So, here I am. The Viking Ship sailing from West to East.




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