Every once in a while, I get an email from a former merchant seaman. For me, it's the Valley. For him, it's the sea. You can read his first email
here. You can read his second email
here. And you can read his third email here.
So, like, I send you these notes and tell you to leave the Valley behind you. But it would be a lie to say I am not jealous of you for returning to the Valley for a visit.
A while back, I stood looking out over the ocean. My wife laughed at me and said I always do that.
"Do what?"
"Walk all the way out to the end of the dock and just stare."
It's true. I walk out to the end until all I can see is water.
She asks me if I miss it. I want to say "more than breathing," but that would not be a good idea. I just say yes and let the sight and feel of the ocean absorb me. Then I go back home. That little bit of the sea is enough to relax and fill me. It isn't a real hit, but it does me for a bit. I imagine it would be a little like you watching some "racy" HBO special and your friends thinking it was like being in the Valley. It isn't, but it balms a void. [Yeah, I know, my example could easily be way off the mark- but you know what I mean.]
And people think they can also go to sea and see what I do. Maybe, but likely not. So much depends on who you are and what you are looking for. I think of your example of the male journalists who also witness porn. It isn't the same once you stick your dick in it.
God damn me, I do miss the sea and everything about it.
Be peace.
