"What the white whale was to Ahab, has been hinted; what, at times, he was to me, as yet remains unsaid." ~ Moby Dick
Back in July 2011 I was travelling solo around the world. The following is about an encounter I had on the east coast of Australia and was written at the time.
Sat in a dilapidated cabin on the outskirts of Airlie Beach, when parts of me want to complain about the ageing decor and signs of damp, I am reminded that few are ever given the opportunity to muster their deepest wishes into technicolour reality. The high-rise cityscapes of the south have dissolved to into the rugged landscapes of the north, as I relax into images of passing fields, faded from the relentless beating of a misunderstood sun.
The overnight train rattled through the darkness, and the warm glow of sleep was stolen by the incessant snores across the aisle. I struggled to not descend into frustration. I'm always trying to find the benefit in these doubts. It's not always easy. I drifted on the edge of slumber with the soundtracks of summers past and the soothing interactions with my homebound love, awaiting the sun to wake, bidding goodbye to the blinking stars, bright in the absence of city light. Mist settled above the ground as rays of warmth spurted from elongated clouds, and a hawk, stalking the dewy fields for breakfast.
These ever changing, ever wonderful, window views drowned out the human din from train cars and disordered thoughts. I read Moby Dick in my late teens, but whales have fascinated me since I was young. Huge, yet benevolent. Seemingly gentle in nature, aware of their imposing size, and yet we, as a race, felt the need to hunt them to the point of extinction. The notion attached itself to many points of popular culture held dear to me. From my love of Noah Baumbach's film "The Squid and the Whale" and, as I have mentioned on this blog previously, thrice I had tickets to see Noah and Whale, and witness the trajectory of my past sequentially through their albums, and thrice, life conspired to deny me. Finally, in May, I saw Noah and the Whale, surrounded by love, and I knew it was only meant to happen then.
Captain Ahab chased Moby Dick through the oceans, tirelessly heaping his own anger at humanity onto the creature, finding relief elusive, and similarly, whales have always signified my own quest for that just out of reach. I traveled to the other side of the world to give body to these metaphors that have swam around the bays of my mind, and yesterday I boarded a boat, and headed out into the ocean, surrounded by 12 Europeans, all basking on the decks, as our vessel cut quickly through the quiet, calm ocean. The faster boats, packed to the rafters with tourists maximising their time pushed far ahead, whereas we meandered behind, with no timescale, and a captain who had no reason to chase, only wait. All the boats happened across two adolescent humpbacks lounging around the surface, inquisitive and playful.
The captain cut our engines and stayed away from the uncouth sounds of the PA system ringing out from pushier vessels, edging in on the whale's space, encouraging their passengers to shout and holler, assuming that this would bring the whales closer. Our captain urged us to be patient and asked us not to make noise, but instead bring the whales over with our hearts. I knew then I was on the right boat. Soon, without coercion, the whales meandered over to our boat, rolling in the water, showing their undersides and playfully spurting water into our leaning, sunburned faces. Teasing us, they would hide under the boat, only to unexpectedly reappear, pushing their heads through the water, achieving a better view. We took our photos, showed our glee, and they must have captured our faces in their own memories before disappearing off into the depths, and back out to sea, leaving us buoyant with delight. The simplicity of the encounter, which seemed to be through the whale's choice, struck me as I too lay on the sun-soaked deck. Captain Ahab always chased, and I have searched with similar ferocity. Now, however, I find new meaning in the phrase "bring it in with your heart". There's no need to chase, no need to feel that anything is elusive, whether it be love, light or forgiveness. All are inside my heart, I only need to look there. Situations come and go, as the whales did, on their own schedule. All I must continue to do is operate with love. Love is not necessarily a fanfare of waving arms, but a stillness that remains when the breeze has died down and the initial attractions have left. It is seeing beauty in the moments of waiting, as well as the moments of action. I understand now that the whale was never separate from me; the whale was inside me all along, singing it's hauntingly beautiful song.
