The One – Song 6: Weighing Anchor, Segment 2

Originally published July 1, 2019...

Travel. A Journey. Before, during, and after. “Travel” seems to be a modern convention, whereas a “journey” has a timeless sense, and a feeling of purpose, a discovery. And what of the timeline? Before the travel/journey, we have the option of planning – or not. In all cases, in all times, the least necessary planning is figuring the mode of transport – feet, horseback, carriage, 747. Beyond that, the “before” can consist of intricate planning, or none at all. At this point in the epic, we find our characters in the “before” stage.” Travel almost always has an “after”; however, in this kind of story, it’s a fair question to ask if the “after” will ever show up. Back to the present preparation.

Interestingly, this segment begins with a rescue of the two travelers’ mode of transportation – the red boat. 

Before departure, the main character thinks about “blank future days,” a sure sign that not much planning exists beyond modestly provisioning the boat. Our main character envisions an endless string of days with only Hart for company. That prospect proves both welcome and somewhat frightening. Another pre-journey discovery happens to be that the delay in leaving Chickopee has been imaginary. “I could have left at any time I chose,” observes the main character.

Weighing Anchor, Segment 2

The bank isn’t far away I tell myself

Shallow water even nearer to me

Keep going, I urge my two trembling arms

Keep kicking, I command my tired legs

In this way, inch by inch, I draw the boat

            to the riverbank, wind her rope around

                        a tree stump – drop down winded in the mud.

As I catch my breath, I look upriver

            where Hart keeps on struggling, limping toward me

When he arrives, his agony is clear

“Are you all right?” he asks with not one glance

            toward the boat rocking now tamed and docile

“Yes – now – but for a while – I wasn’t sure

            that I was going to make it to dry land –

                        or mud,” I say scooping up brown handfuls

“Why didn’t you let the boat go, idiot?”

“I could not.” Can’t he see what this boat means?

“Why not? You could have drowned out there, you fool”

“I’m asking myself the same question now

            but out there I just couldn’t let her go.”

“Her!?” Hart screws his nose up quizzically

            “That’s the way sailors talk about their ships.”

            This is not a ‘ship,’ and we aren’t sailors.”

“I have imagined I might be some day.”

“This boat’s not ours. We’ll have to give it back.”

            Hart says this with irritation but I

                        ignore his curiously strong reaction

“Law of the sea. We salvaged her. She’s ours.”          

“The owner won’t think so, I’ll bet you that. 

            Anyway, boats’r more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Who says that?” I stand up with hands on hips

“My father,” Hart says almost sheepishly

“He’s not a sailor, nor has he been one”

“Maybe that’s why. He is not that stupid”

“Hart, this is dumb. We’ve got ourselves a boat

            and you want to get rid of her before

                        we have even sailed her a mile downstream.”

“It’s not a sailboat. It’s got oars, not sails.”

“But we could rig a sail. It isn’t hard.”

“Like some stupid kite!?” he counters crossly      

“No, not like a kite. A sail.  You know – wind 

            go poof-poof – boat move across the water.”

I try to get him to laugh but he glowers

            at me fiercely and kicks the red boat’s side

            which lands him butt first in the slippery mud.

I want to get to the bottom quickly.

“Hart, why d’you hate this boat so already?”

“Because I picture you getting in it

            and going away – and away from me”

“Hart, we’re leaving together – remember?”

“Yea, I know, but there hasn’t been a way

            and now there is – right here – floating ready”

“What do you mean? You can’t be serious”

Instantly, I see possibilities

“We want to leave, and now we really can.”

“In this!?” Hart asks more than a bit doubtful.

“Why not? Look at the size of that high bow.

            It could take big ol’ waves and not get wet

If we rig a sail, there’s speed with the wind

            And look, at the back – a box for storage.”

“I was talking about paddling around

            the river not crossing some great ocean.”

“Not the ocean, but we can go hundreds

            and hundreds of miles south on this river.”

“You’re serious? You really think we could?”

“Of course. Why not? People have done much more

            and for poorer reasons than we have now”

“It’s not ours. That’s the very least,” Hart says

“Law of the sea.  Our salvage. Off we go!”

For some long moments we stand looking down

Suddenly I see all we need to do 

            is choose and all will tumble into place

“Yes. Right. Let’s do it! What d’we have to lose?”

“Do what?” Now Hart is again off balance

“Get out of this place for good in our boat.”

“Okay, captain.  What do we do for food?”

“Easy. There’s lots of stuff in our cellar

            and we can fish and get jobs as we go.”

Hart silently considers what I’ve said

I know him well enough to see it’s just

            a matter of details now.  Then he says,

“We have some old blankets that won’t be missed,

            but what are we going to tell our parents?”

“Easy.  We tell them about the boat and

            we’re going to take a short upriver trip

                        to see if we can locate the owner 

            We don’t tell them until we’re done with school

                        and the river’s down a bit and it’s safe.  

                                    Meanwhile, from now to then, we hide the boat 

                                                and stock her up bit by bit over time

                                                and when she’s ready we head downriver

                                                and get a message back here that we’re fine

                                                and not to even try to search for us.”

“Let’s do it,” Hart says with sudden firmness

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the weeks after our pact and vow

            we furtively bring supplies to the boat

                        floating in a dim hidden backwater

                                    camouflaged with fallen leafy branches.

Each trip, we transfer a few provisions

            away from our unsuspecting households

Often, we go separately at odd times

            when pilfering has least chance of notice

On the jaunts alone to the hidden boat

            I have ample time to observe details

                        of our splendid intention taking shape

We never doubt the rightness of the boat

The giddiness that bubbles up each time

            I see her is sufficient proof of that

What troubles me is the blank future days

            filled only with boat and river, and Hart

                        one long flowing contentment that cannot

                                    possibly be as pleasant as it seems

I can’t see beyond the river current’s

            one-pointed force pushing my life ahead

                        relentless, clear, unknown, unintended.

Leaving comes so sweet it hardly matters

Staying now so unthinkable I pay

            no attention at all to this option

How strange that only weeks ago I feared

            I would never leave – I could see no way –

                        and now even if the boat burns or sinks

            I am so firm-intended I would just

                        walk away – yes, just walk away –        just walk

I leave the boat and walk back to the road

            There, I look down toward Chickapee and see

                        it as I never have seen it before

Always before, it had been a gateless

            barrier, uncrossable, ending dead

Now this same road lays its back down for me

            invites me to just walk its curving bends

Tears from nowhere well up and wet my cheeks

            tears with no reason but still, wide relief

Why this sudden openness where the way 

            held barred and locked for all the years ‘til now?

Why this instant easy passage where none

            existed or at least I could not see?

The shift is clear and startling as a bird

            flushed into flight before my very eyes.

Yes, the bird! The different sparrow chirping

            boisterously outside the teacher’s room

At once, I see the reason for the change 

I’ve been waiting all these years for magic – 

            that one person, place, or thing to whisk me

            to happiness with no effort on my part

Some magical one whose form I can’t name

            the one who’s never coming – never was

I am my own magical rescuer

I see I have been waiting needlessly

I could have left at any time I chose

Although I’m still thankful for the red boat,

            its message is much broader than its beam

It whispers, “You are free – always have been”

I could have walked out any time at all

            Just choose and leave – choose and leave – walk away

When I tell Hart these truths, he’s not impressed

“You just saw the light? I’m surprised,” he says

            “That explains why you didn’t run with Jani.

            I have wondered about that all this time.”

“Why have you stayed?” I ask feeling foolish

“It wasn’t time until now,” Hart observes

“Never mind,” I say grinning. “It does not

            matter since we will be gone in three days.”

 

“That’s more your kind of time,” he says smiling

Background

Once again, the subject of the “home town” arises. The protagonist can’t wait to leave, but has been waiting for some external force as a vehicle of rescue; in this segment the realization dawns that one can best rescue oneself rather than wait for some deus ex machina. This is only one of several insights that arise in this segment, proving that the benefits of travel can come even before one sets one’s foot upon the path. There’s an old saying, probably Zen: “Set yourself on fire, so you can see the path before you.” It would appear that the match has been ignited.

Exploration #1: Is there any travel or a journey that you wish to take, but haven’t? Why? Why not? 

Exploration #2: When Hart makes the comment about “time,” at the end of this segment, there seems to be an implication that there’s a difference in viewpoint about the definition of time between the two. In the context of this segment, what are the two types of time? Are there more?

Exploration #3: Preparation for traveling (or a journey to be taken) can have varying attendant amounts of anxiety along with it. What types of anxiety does each character exhibit, if any? Can you identify with pre-travel anxiety, doubt, and worry?