Retornar ao Mar

Retornar ao Mar

“All these pure things come foam and spray of the sea
Of Darkness abundant, which shaken mysteriously,
Breaks into dazzle of living, as dolphins that leap from the sea
Of midnight shake it to fire, so the secret of death we see.”
D.H. Lawrence

Argh me buckos!!! Once again upon the shores of the sea am I. As did Bodi seek the great swell of the 50 year storm so have I come to Nazare in hopes of seeing the great waves. Of course, just my damn luck, the swell isn’t predicted to be big at all this week. So hear my prayer mighty Poseidon! Bring forth the wrath you unleashed upon Odysseus and let loose the power of the sea! Prove to me that the titans should not have been allowed to eat you! Should you ignore my prayer, or, more likely if you don’t exist, then fine…whatever brah, I’ll try again in Reunion.

In truth, the light swell is a lesson in disappointment and learning to live with it. The sage would say, big waves or small makes no difference. My unenlightened self however, feels the sting of missing that idealized moment. It is that sting of the thoughts of what could be; Of thousands of possible future fantasies rapid-firing through my mind. There is no perfect moment.   Perfection itself is a fantasy. Does the sea give two shits if the swell is large or small? Probably not. I can’t say for sure as I’ve never, to my knowledge at least, been an ocean. However, I suspect that something as ancient, deep and elemental as the sea, has no taste for such trivialities. It is likely wise then to realize that life cannot be measured by something as arbitrary as the meters of a swell. Well okay, sure it could. If one defined life as a set of points, one could assign any number of metrics to it. The real trick is defining a metric on life in such a way as to make that metric an inner product space. That way one can produce orthonormal sequences in life and thereby obtain its spectrum! Surely then, one could thereby derive some form of meaning to life, or at very least characterize possible meanings up to isomorphism. This might seem like an ex mathturbator showing off, but in truth I have long searched for meaning, in the works of the philosophers, in the temples of Zen and in the great wilds of the West, and as yet have found no real answer. So then why not take a functional analysis approach?

So much of the life I had been building is gone. Anyone who has subjected themselves to the silliness I have thus far put forth on this site certainly knows I struggle with the loss of a lover. The other loss of late is that of the afore-mentioned mathturbation. While the turning of the road to academia is admittedly liberating. I mean like really, really, Atlas gets to drop the Earth after millenia, liberating. It has left me deeper in the ether. The way back is forever severed, and the way forward is nebulous.

It would stand to reason then that if I am to actually ever find some deeper meaning, I should not fight, but embrace the nebulous. There is a power in this world; deep, dark and mysterious;    Fathomable ( 1 fathom = 6 feet ) yet unknowable. It is the primordial abyss. It is the source of life on this world, though ambivalent to that life. The great unyielding force: ancient and dark, withholding secrets from an age before the rise of the living. The spray and the foam…the nebulous sea.

I knew it before I left Oregon. Gazing upon the Pacific from Cape Blanco, I knew it. The sea calls to me. I know this is nothing new. I’m not the first to speak such words, nor will I be the last. It is worth noting that I know this all might be coming off as cliché and derivative, and not the  \frac{d}{dx} kind. But in a life filled with doubt and uncertainty, I take great relief in knowing one thing. I know that I want a cottage on the coast. Now I just have to get it. For such a thing must be earned. There is no solace in simply being granted such a thing. Bodhi had to rob a bunch of banks before going to Australia to complete his life’s work and catch that 50 year storm. It’s worth pointing out that although the last scene of Point Break was supposed to be in Australia, it was actually filmed on the Oregon coast.   I miss that place.  You could even say I left my sould there…down by the sea.


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