Row, Row, Row My Boat, Gently Down The Sea…

Hello 🙂

Unaware, we embark on a journey throughout the world around us, we navigate within it, our lonely self floating around in this sea of life. We start off at first, leaving the safety of the port where we have been built, in order to discover what else exist. On the way we pick up various skills and abilities that allow us to sail longer and further, to read the winds better, and to follow the current, or to fight it. Accidents happen, mistakes are made, and so our boat gets hurt, a little here, a little there, losing a big chunk after being tempted by the entrancing song of the mermaids. The more we go, and the more pieces we lose, unless we keep patching them back up, and perhaps even improving our boat along the way, learning from the lessons we have been taught to create a true vessel out of the little wooden boat we started off with. And so we keep on sailing, on and on, to new horizons, or perhaps staying forever in the same seas, crossing other boats, simply floating around, until one day we get to our final destination, the one from which there is no coming back. It is an inevitable part of any journey that it must one day end, just as it has begun on a day like any other. Neither of those days are especially remarkable, nor are any in between, though the navigation can be pretty amazing for the boat, if it so perceives it.

 

While facing the tempests, the storms, and the dangers around, it can be easy to give up on the exploration, and spend the whole trip in a part of the sea we have already explored, perhaps near a warm beach, surrounded by lush vegetation, and a gorgeous sun. Comfort sets in, and the need to explore dims, the holes only slightly getting patched up, just so it can keep floating, the anchor laying in the bottom of the sea. The more the comfort sets in, the more convinced we are those patches will hold, and the more appealing the nest becomes, slowly forgetting that there is a whole world to explore past the confines of our little tropical paradise. Hidden from the dangers, we live in our illusions, excitement is not needed anymore, nor are others, for all we have is all we need, and so it shall remain until the wood rots off and we seek deep into the sea, remaining at the bottom with the fishes, never feeling the gentle caress of the wind blowing through our sails.

 

 

But boats are not meant to be stable, to remain in a port. They must go forth and brave the winds, not flinching before the storms, and driving always further into the unexplored realms lying ahead. Laziness overcomes the ones without direction, without a purpose, and comfort takes over the motivation to break free from it. A boat can follow the direction of the wind, but only once it lets itself ride on the currents, yet the winds are truly at their best if the boat desires to go into that direction, for it has a purpose of its own. It is not meant to turn in circles, and it must patch up and repair the damages it has occurred, so it can remain strong, and face the dangers ahead, in the chance of one day finding what it has been looking for. There are countless paths to be taken, numerous detours to be explored, and a universe of possibilities to be engendered, and the only way to have but a glimpse of all there is out there is to keep going, following our compass, and trusting the winds to blow us where we need to be.

And all this merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream…

Until next time,
Luca

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