Ahab

Everything happens at the right time. Everything has its own place where it’s not any problem to be the way it is. And here it is…

So here’s the story.

There is a man who has lost his leg and he thinks about it all the time and cries about it and it really tears him up inside. This loss. This missing limb. He focuses on the loss, the leg, all the time. He looks out over the ocean and thinks, "Where is that little leg?" Such a little leg in such a big ocean. It could be anywhere. It could have been swallowed by a big fish, or pecked to pieces by birds, or it could have sunk and it may be lying in the very bottom of the ocean. On the ocean floor. But, methinks it floats. (He can still feel his leg, just like, as if, it was on him still, except he gets a floating feeling. And that’s how he knows it’s still out there.) He can feel it floating. So this feeling between man and leg, the loss, the unfathomable loss of that which was his, part of him, absolutely him, something, which he thought, could ne’er be taken (how can one take oneself away from oneself?) Most folks don’t spend a lot of time thinking, "what if I lose a part of myself" but anyone who knows someone who has lost a piece of themselves thinks about it. For example, if you knew a man who lost his finger cutting an apple, you may think to yourself, while cutting an apple, or just using a knife, I hope I don’t lose a finger, you see what I’m saying? But more likely you don’t spend a lot of time hoping you don’t or thinking you might lose some part of yourself. However, it happened, and the result was a chasm, a split, a big gap, which made the whole wide world nothing but distance, obstacles between him and himself (himself being the whole him which wasn’t whole any more.) What he is now only a part of what he was. (How could a little leg take so much away?) But it did. And there is point A and there is point B but all he can see is the space in between. (But maybe this distance made him bigger than he ever thought he could be, because maybe, all the space between him and himself and the miles and miles of ocean between him and the rest of him counted as a kind of height, so that, if the leg was on, he was a man of average size and average stature, but when the leg is off, counting all the distance between where he is and where it’s at, he could be, say 3,000 miles from head to toe, or more (depending on where he is and where it’s at.) And it may be said that "what is to be will be" and it could also be said that "this is destiny" and it could also be said that "the lord works in mysterious ways" and "the lord giveth and the lord taketh away" but it could also quite possibly be said that there was an accident. A terrible accident wherein this man lost his leg, and that since the man and leg used to be one with each other, perhaps the best way to resolve this problem would be to return things to the way things were. (To get it back.) Get back what has been lost. But that sounds dangerous, does it not? In the times of forward to go back always seems the wrong direction. Perhaps he should seek a better leg, a different leg and not the very same leg he lost. (Move on.) Move on to the next best leg. The old leg has been out to sea for a long, long, time and it could be anywhere. (Such a big sea.) And how are we to find her?

2/3rd’s of the world is covered in water and he says she’s floating there and we must find her. But, to find something out at sea is very difficult. Especially something small. That doesn’t glow or make a sound. (And after all, she could’ve drowned, sunk straight down.) NO, SHE FLOAT’S! And we will spend 3 years at sea looking for the little floating thing, if it takes that long, and we’ll stay longer if we don’t spot her. He says she’s out here, and we have to believe him, because what else are we going to believe, out here, under his command, searching for the floating thing and all we know is that he thinks it floats because he FEELS it floating in his bones which means his body which means his brain which means he THINKS he FEELS it floats. (He believes it floats.) And there’s the rub. He believes. And there you are. He believes, we believe. And we all have to believe because that’s what keeps it floating and if it sinks we sink and there’s the rub. We don’t want to sink. And that’s why we’re here and he’s got us. And why would a man who doesn’t want to sink sign on to a ship to search for a little lost limb? Well, perhaps I’d rather sink than stand. And I’d rather swim than sink. And I signed on for this trip cause I’d rather float than sink or swim or stand. And maybe when we find this floating thing it will tell us something of what it is like to float for years and years without sinking. Or swimming. Or standing. Is that not the dream? Is this not a dream? All I do all day is look for the floating thing, and this can make a man tired. And three years at sea can make a man lonely. Especially when he spends all the live long day looking for the floating thing. And what else? (There’s a million things that make me hate this life of ours: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 21, 32, 33.) The day to day to day to day to day to day to day. And if we never backward go, borne home on ocean’s breast, but find among the caves below a sailor’s place of rest; Still ere we close our eyes and drift beneath the depths of blue, we’ll think upon the floating thing and how we died for you, sweet captain, how we died for you. Sweet Captain, how we died for you.

(And isn’t it strange that the sound of sleeping is so much like the ocean when you listen to the breathing. In and out. In and out. But Pip doesn’t sleep. Not a wink. Got too many things in his mind)

Left alone, left alone, so alone.

I am thankful that the crushing weight

That keeps the water inside the ocean

Hasn’t broken me yet.

And the tide rolls in and out again and the sea is a wicked old woman.

And there’s a hole in the bottom of the sea. The sailor’s life for me.

And if I lost my way in the light of day, how shall I find it now that night has come?

(Left alone in the ocean where the awful lonesomeness is intolerable, in the middle of such a heartless immensity, Pip’s ringed horizon began to expand around him miserably.)

Tis no wonder the boy lost his mind.

No wonder the boy lost his mind.

And sometimes we sleep and sometimes we dream that we’ve found the floating thing and our Captain is whole and we’re floating home and all is one, our work is done, and the ship is safe and she sails herself home. And the Starboys will sleep. And the Starboys will dream. And here’s where the story begins. (Again.) Wait.