There is a magnificent intensity in life that comes when we are not in control but are only reacting, living, surviving. […] At sea, I am reminded of my insignificance - of all men's insignificance. It is a wonderful feeling to be so humbled.”
- Steven Callahan
No creative work to share today, as it was a day for running errands and recuperating from them.
I stopped at the library to pick up my car registration. Luckily, they cleared all the fees and fines. Ironically, the fact that they had my car registration was proof I had returned it, as it was the only book left that I had out. They were able to locate the returned book on the cart of books to be shelved, verifying it was present, and wipe the record clean.
I have to say, the fact that they no longer do late fees is incredibly helpful for people with ADHD. I have always done my best to get the books returned on time, but every now and then, one gets missed, which is what happened here. Considering that at the height of my library excursions, I would lend upwards of 100 books, one temporarily missing book isn’t that bad. Today's venture was lighter, with about 12 books, one of which was Adrift.
It was staring me in the face in a spot where I didn’t expect to see it. Initially I had it confused for another book, thinking it was the same survival-at-sea story as the movie of the same name. I guess now I need to reserve that one and read it once I am done with this.
Little known fact about me - I have some sailing experience, mainly from the earlier part of my childhood. I completed a course and received the first of three license levels one can obtain during my stay on the Baltic Coast. My father had a dinghy, which we sailed every summer, and occasionally off season at a lake closer to home.
Years ago, one of my plans was to buy a sailboat, fix her up, and live on it. I also had plans to continue my studies and ultimately aim for a captains license. Life had other plans, as I was never put into contact with anyone who could provide access to a boat and the sea once I was in college. Maybe I am better off admiring it from the sturdiness of land, but part of me misses the clean smell of the salty air, the inhale and exhale of the waves, the rocking of the boat, and the power of harnessing the wind when she kicked things up a notch or two, and balancing precariously off the side of the boat as you are propelled forward almost directly into the wind.
I can understand why those who have suffered disaster at sea eventually return to it. It's a bit like when I felt mentally shipwrecked and adrift 2 years ago (though far less uncomfortable and life threatening) - you always feel called back to your work, whatever it may be. I was simply reacting, living, and surviving at the time. It was all I could do.