Sometimes words urge themselves out of me, to express what goes on in my head, in my soul, to free myself from some burden or to share some joy or amazement.
Sometimes words are silent, no letters pushing on my fingertips, no phrases dancing in my head. I do keep on living, feeling, experiencing but somehow all of it doesn't want to come out. It finds comfortable seats and sofas in my being and settles there. Am I shutting you out? Not necessarily. It is not about you, it is about me. As always...I write about me.
I can't even remember what I wrote last. Because my filing system is the lousiest you can imagine. I don't even try to figure out where I have left you, in words and phrases.
I have gone on with my life and my thoughts. I am approaching the end of the trip and a lot of confusion is gathering inside me. Out there in the huge pacific, in the interminable blue all was clear. Get out of this ocean and get a life on firm ground, grow roots I never really had, stay in one place and enjoy observing the world evolve from a steady point of view instead of constantly being on the move and never being able to know how that place was two weeks or two months or two years ago. Never to be allowed to know what this place will become two weeks or months or years from now.
We have started the last ocean crossing. And things are not clear any more. What is it that I want from life, how will I get what I want, can I do what I want? And is what I want really what I want? In less than a year I will be faced with a completely new and strange reality.
It scares me.
When I think about it.
But there is not much I can do from here. I try to live in the present, linger as long as I can in the last Thai isle, take a nap in a hammock, swim among tropical fish and feed them stale cookies and then watch their delirious behavior. Since confusion entered my soul I have caught up with my ability to enjoy or hate the present.
I love the steady rhythm of sea life. I love to swim in transparent water. I love to have nothing to do and no one to report to. I love to be self-sufficient for days on a row. I love to treat myself to a massage or a sauna. I love to hold Hakan by the hand and navigate our happiness, undisturbed. I love to follow our simple desires, I love the flexibility of it all.
But I hate in violent waves the lack of fresh water, the difficulty to do the simplest things in Mardek's cramped quarters. I hate it when I realize the bed is wet again. I hate when the vegetables rot so ridiculously fast. I hate when my back hurts because the ceiling is low. I hate to get wet on dinghy rides.
I love that my nails got so strong and beautiful, I love my skin to be so much softer. I love young coconut water. I love to buy live king shrimps from a little canoe that comes alongside Mardek just before I start cooking. I love to be pealing them while watching dolphins or colorful fish. I love to be living with the sun's rhythm and I love screwing this rhythm up whenever we're on for a party somewhere.
I hate that all my muscles changed into fat from not moving enough, I hate the sun on my skin or in my eyes, I hate it when I get seasick, I hate it when I get pushed and punched by a rough sea. I hate it when it is too hot and I get sticky.
Love hate, love hate, on and on, I swing from one to the other. I wake up in a foul mood because the carrots are smelling and have turned into mush, I drink tea and jump into the beautiful warm water. On the first sight of the underwater miracles my mood switches to elation. My feelings are raw, and I feed on them. I love to be almost free from censorship, I love to observe how I really am. I love to be able to share that with Hakan.
I'm in the cockpit, Hakan is asleep, I feel at ease on the water, at ease on my watch. I look at the stars, at the small smiling moon, at the fluorescent life in the waves. I listen to the water. It's o.k. here, after all. I dread these passages but then while on them I realize that even though I don't like it because it is long and tiring, I have adapted to them. Gone is the tremendous terror of being so small in the hugeness of the ocean, gone is the feeling of utter loneliness I felt on watch, gone is the fright of sinking unnoticed by the rest of the world. I am on Mardek and Mardek is doing her job very well. I am floating and it doesn't matter the ocean is huge, one day we get to the other side.
I am, for now, filled with contradictions and inextricable paradoxes. Every day brings me closer to the end of this chapter. I trust life, and I will sail this trust blindly, hopefully heading towards the end of my confusion.