I'm back in town, obviously. I'm highly pleased with the splendid job that H'n'B did with my blog whilst I was gone, and if you want details of the trip aside from the conversations with the dolphins, please ask. There were many exciting stories, some involving sharks and guns, and guns and sharks, and drama, and bones, and beer, and boats, and weather, and a general happiness not to be wherever else we would be had we not been where we were. (a la Cap'n Jack).
Speaking of which, (and this segment does horrible injustice to my thoughts on things at length, but to give you a beginning to my mental wanderings) as I was reclining at the helm of our new boat on a dive in which I could not participate for various reasons, I began to ponder. Facing southeast, away from land, one sees nothing but ocean. What sort of life does one live when he only comes ashore once every month or so (i.e. 19th century pirates)? What sort of life does one live when he lives on the ocean in modern times? There is a distinct something about people that have lived any (moderately) large portion of their life on the water, and this is what I want to analyze throughout the course of the next few days, with focus on a few specific people I know who are to serve as case studies. This is all in the light, though, of a certain other thought, which I feel convinced I had a discussion with someone about this very thing before I left, but it being this: one's ability to project oneself into a situation or circumstance and see the consequences (be they good or bad) is a quality/ability that is (or should be) highly valued. So, in this light, how would a maritime upbringing change you as a person? The ocean is a breeding ground for so many qualities, and to name a few, they are: an incredible use of common sense, a sense of duty, a sense of responsibility and maturity, respect in various forms, and a very strong quality of self-sufficiency and assertiveness. I'll discuss all these later with all the time I WON'T have this week while I'm catching up on things. I know it's very disjointed and sounds like anything but the narrative-type thoughts running through my head, but that's what happens when you sleep in a car for fourteen hours... mmhmmm.