Not a lot to tell actually. Just walking back home, feeling slightly abused by a less than dinner experience ($180 dollar per for what basically tasted like canned food doesn’t make for a perfect Friday evening), just feeling blue enough to appreciate the drowsiness of the emptying streets.
I never thought I would say that I feel at home on the ocean, but after a few sailing trips – Boston Malaga on clipper Stad Amsterdam in 2014 being the culmination – anytime I meet that vast body of water, I’m Okay.
Never mind the roaring terror of force ten at night. Or huge ocean waves picking up a thousand tons of steel and sails like it is a simple yacht.
It is the vastness, the magnitude that caught my heart and sometimes my breath.
Whenever I meet the ocean, I am happy. The beauty of the light, the colours, the movement. Superb. And best of all is that sudden glimpse of a tint somewhere between green and blue. When the light shines through the crest of a breaking wave like sunshine through a glass of wine when bringing it to your mouth. More alive than anything, uncatchable.
And there is another thing. I am aware – like a physical presence – where I am in relation to the edges of that ocean. The magic of touching the waterline and knowing that the next stop is Antarctica. Or seeing the Pacific for the first time and being aware that I am touching on the other half of the world, the never before seen part of it.
I am also aware that both my father and my grandfather had a relationship with the ocean. One as a sailor, the other as a very inquisitive artist. I have a bit of both.
So when I look at the ocean, I’m Okay.
I really love emptiness. It must be because of all the signals I receive throughout the days and weeks, overpoweringly present, like a crazy child yelling in my ear while I am just trying to focus on this one thing that is important. And I’m not talking “business important”. Just the thing that makes sense to me, right now, as a person, a human being.
The good thing is that I see “empty” more and more as a way to express myself. Walking along a beach I seek the softness of nothing special, instead of roaring waves, towering cliffs, vibrating crowds.
I was in Burnie, Tasmania, and my compagnons (all lovely people) were busy talking about opportunities, futures (there are more than one, as we all dream a slightly different scope) and how to connect so that it would be valuable.
I just saw this beach.
Perhaps I was just tired. Of all those signals. Or more basically, of flying in early after a night of not having slept enough. Or just bored and trying to find something worthwhile.
The good thing is that I get to express myself.
Not so bad …