Freedom. Freedom to what? Escape, to run, to wander, turning your back on a coward society that stutters, staggers, and stagnates every man for himself and FUCK YOU Jack I've got mine?
To be truly challenging, a voyage, like life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen, who play in their boats at sea-"cruising" it is called. Voyaging belongs to sea men, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot or will not fit in.
Little has been said or written about the ways a man may blast himself free. Why? I don't know, unless the answer lies in our valued diseased values...Men are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of "security", and in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine-and before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a man really need-really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down-and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment and contribution. Thats all-in the material sense. But we are brainwashed by our economic sense until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of tim payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of the charade.
And the years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.
Dedication to the sea is the symbol of migration and movement and wandering. It is the barbaric place and it stands opposed to society and it is a constant symbol in all of literature too.
As Thomas Wolfe said, "It is the state of barbaric disorder out of which civilization has emerged and into which it is liable to return"
Sometimes you read the perfect thing, at the perfect time. It scares you, it enlightens you...
it awakens something.
We often say, "who know's"
No one knows, absolutely no one has any idea what they are doing. And those that do, I'm sorry