Ok, first off. Is this a shameless plug for my book?
Yes of course it is. But also I would like to explain my reasons for writing the book in the first place. Now I am aware that most of you are writers and creators so I’ll spare the “it was yearning inside me” tropes for another time. But the reason I wrote this is purely to see if I could.
To see if I could take an idea inside me, not the story mind you. But the idea of being a writer, and putting it into the world. Showing people, some close to me and others that are not, that I can be more that what is always on display in front of them
To show others your writing is to let people inside your head, even if your writing fiction and a character in no way embodies any of your own characteristics, those thoughts and words came from somewhere in you. And when you show others this, I have have found it to be more anxiety inducing then public speaking. Thankfully when people read my book (which is about a very violent and otherworldly cult) they didn’t change their opinion about me too much.
So this experiment was a success, the data was recorded and now I am halfway through my next book. Thank you for reading and supporting me.
“Ships are safe in harbour….but that is not what Ships are for” – some guy I met in a Pakistani tea house 2014
How many of you haven’t changed or updated your program in 4 weeks? 6 weeks? 10 weeks? Ever?
Consistency is key in training but there is a time when Consistency turns to ground hog day. We can get comfortable in our standard excersises and we get great at them but we need to understand that if we are to grow, if indeed we are to sail to new lands we must leave the saftey of the harbour. Search out someone that can teach you a new movment, learn pilaties, pick up a heavy kettle bell and go for a 1 mile walk.
Comfort is for the weak. Competencey can sometimes mean stagnation. Grow. Fight . Pick up something new, suck at it, get good at it, find something else.
Cold peirces the steel hull, like icy fingers probing through every crevice and nook. No man finds comfort, no man finds relief. Stale bodies huddle together and shiver, clinging to eachother and the surrounding cold environment. The hull groans with each wave beating its full power against it. This thin shell of man made steel all that stands between the wide eyed men and the full force of nature.
The ship sailing at full speed launching itself off the crests of waves, designed to cut through possidons greatest waves like heated blade through flesh. The seasoned men stand, braced and ready on the upper decks in defiance of the storm, some wild eyed and laughing, breaths soaked with rum and skin wrinkled from sun and stained with ink from ports unknown. These men have no country anymore, the belong to the sea, but it is a belonging that is in constant flux, at one moment a sunny day and a light breeze giving new meaning to beauty, the next moment is one of abject terror and monstrous waves seeking to pull brave souls to the depths, to a tomb no one will ever visit
Death in the ocean is never peaceful. One would hope to be struck by falling debrie and silenced quickly, rather then float in the elements with the tourture of the mind relenting in its horror at the hoplessness of ones situation. Other options include being relentlessly dragged under the sea then pushed to the surface struggling for breath only to be cruelly pulled down again, this is repeated untill finally the lungs give out, or ravaged by the denizens that call the ocean home
All this aside. Time after time, men will crawl into steel temporary homes, and defy the most ancient of gods, Possidon, Yam, leviathan, Enki and many more in search of adventure, riches, and meaning.