The port would fain give succor; the port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, all that’s kind to our mortalities. But in that gale, the port, the land, is that ship’s direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing, fights ‘gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks all the lashed sea’s landlessness again; for refuge’s sake forlornly rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!

Know ye, now, Bulkington? Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore?

The Lee Shore, Chapter

Bulkington makes but a brief appearance in Moby-Dick.  In fact, he’s a bit of a tool.  And yet, I am so glad he is there  because this is my absolute favorite chapter of the book.

Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea.

I’m a fan of supper and warm blankets, but I also am occupied by a soul which makes her intrepid efforts to ever seek the open independence of her sea.

Am I afraid I say too much?  Am I afraid I will post things that will come back to haunt me?  Oddly, no.  Or maybe yes, a little.  My brain is operating this week in compartments I was not aware it held.

I suppose the greatest danger would be that I am lost in fabricated truth, that I am making up the truth as I go along.

I was raised in a well stocked port, and fled its hospitality.  I fled its institutions.  I have sought out alternative insulated Tahitis, but one day  woke up and damned if I wasn’t here again, washed back up on the slavish shore.

So again I stand up and flee.  My soul forever on her intrepid effort.

Come with me, or stay behind.  I have passengers so precious I cannot risk dashing them on the rocks.  I have a journey to make and there is room for all, but you have to know, I am not seeking the usual answers.

The report read: He acknowledged some worries about embarrassing himself in front of his peers, but these concerns are mild and less than would be expected for most 13 year old boys. In contrast, he reported many worries about his ability to take care of himself and sooth himself when he is not with his parents. =========================== Please let him have me for all that I'm worth. He's at the center of my world. Seafarer

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10Ob3Or5nPA

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