The 20th of January, 2017.


Death is so brutally final. To know that each one of us is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold and die. Someday. But someday is not today and it’s not all the other days we have to live for.

This is life. And death is an unavoidable part of it.

Unfortunate things are going to happen. It’s going to get complicated. We’re going to relapse. We’re going to need time-outs. We’re going to break. And then we’re going to need a break. We’re going to be weak. We’re going to be strong. We’re going to lose our minds and yell. We’re going to want to throw some people out of our lives. We’re going to break down and beg some people to stay in our lives. Some days we’re going to feel everything all at once. Other days, we’re going to feel nothing at all. We’re going to be in some bad spaces. And we’re going to be in some amazing ones. We’re going to get on our knees crying and hurting and begging for help. We’re going to get on our knees and pray just to say thank you. We’re going to have moments when we know exactly what we want, and we’re sure. We’re going to have moments when we have absolutely no clue what we want, and we’re confused.

This is not one of those times.

My father knew. More than I do. That the wilderness is calling. That it’s my calling. And I must go.

I’m stocking the Cruz. I’ll be taking him along soon. To the depths of the Ocean, through thousands of leagues.

The Cruz is Captain Pops’ pièce de résistance. He built him with nerve and muscle and heart.

A Yellow Submarine – it’s my ride through the marvels of this planet. And it’s going to be home. As much as an adventure.

Beginning in Bali, this odyssey is a father’s dream for his daughter. To sink and surface. To sail and breeze. To steer away and drop anchor. To dock and explore. At sea or ashore.

If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this: I do not stand alone. What stands behind me is the most potent force, moral and otherwise, in my life – the love of a man who built and broke and then emboldened me; the love of my father.

Sitting here, on the sands where I was raised, staring into the bold blue of distance, I have unequivocal faith that the Lord never sends you more than you can bear.

In a similar setting, when Charlie Brown told Snoopy, “Someday we will all die”, our beagle responded, “True, but on all the other days, we will not.”

And it doesn’t strike me as odd that Atomic Kitten plays on a stereo in a distant shack, “The tide is high but I’m holding on…I’m not the kind of girl who gives up just like that.”

The tide will turn. The tide will turn. And I’ll be Cruz-ing through it.

Sampai Jumpa Lagi!




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