I have spent hours aplenty the last couple days in the Mystic Seaport, a 19th century replication of Connecticut coastal operations. It proved pleasant. A condensed version of Moby Dick, theatrically played out of doors by a small troupe of impressive young actors, highlighted events, expressivly making evident the crossing of borders present in the presence of the vastness of an ocean. Whaling, salty water, sailing, depths, storms, and the doings of men beneath the immensity of stars. Here are two quotes from a collection of artwork devoted to life immersed within the sea.

Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people
Sick of the city, waiting for sea,
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness,
Of the strong wind and shattered spray,
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound,
Of the big surf that breaks all day,
If I could see the weedy mussels,
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead of the wheeling gulls,
… I should be happy–that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine!
I have a need to hold and handle,
Shells and anchors and ships again!

–Edna St. Vincent Millay

They have cradled you with custom, they have primed you with the preaching.

They have soaked you with convention through and through.

They have put you in a showcase, you’re a credit to their teaching.

But you can’t hear the wild? –it’s calling you.

Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us.

Let us journey to a lovely land I know.
There’s a whisper on the night wind, there’s a star agleam to guide us,

And the Wild is calling, calling…let us go.

–Robert Service