Pirate country
In searching for my feet after having slipped off the bridge last week (it is so often that you reach a plateau, idea in hand, and forget the wide, flat expanse is perfect for allowing ideas to spill all over, spread out and some things to eventually roll to the edge and fall off!), I found this...
At the edge of the sea, looking into the haze, that is to say, on the shore, I envied the water. In it (or on it) I found that I brought myself and my eyes with me, that I could not escape my knowledge. Out in the waves, I discovered total confusion and loss. I hadn't given the water the consideration I had given the land, that which I had always known, been 'birthed' onto understanding. The water, the sea, it was its own place, its own site, it had its own properties, mysteries, consequences, and I was afraid. I needed know-how. I was floating on a white rock, as though I did not know what swimming was, as though I could not imagine walking in water.
So, I made it land. The pirates became pioneers, the sea was the prairie, their frontier. I lived at the edge, the coast, the shore, the mere-gate, the sea-way, a place of becoming land becoming sea. And so, did I become.
I have lost the cardinal directions, but feel the zenith and the nadir. Pulling me like a spinning top. I have lost directionality. It's all horizon, all haze. I wonder, am I in the water now?
We use metaphors to comprehend ideas which are unknown, even those we don't even know we don't know, by encountering, through know-how, by doing.
