My soul is more than matched; she's over-manned; and by a madman! Insufferable sting, that sanity should ground arms on such a field! But he drilled deep down, and blasted all my reason out of me! I think I see his impious end; but feel that I must help him to it. Will I, nill I, the ineffable thing has tied me to him; tows me with a cable I have no knife to cut. Horrible old man! Who's over him, he cries;- aye, he would be a democrat to all above; look, how he lords it over all below! Oh! I plainly see my miserable office,- to obey, rebelling; and worse yet, to hate with touch of pity! For in his eyes I read some lurid woe would shrivel me up, had I it. Yet is there hope. Time and tide flow wide. The hated whale has the round watery world to swim in, as the small gold-fish has its glassy globe. His heaven-insulting purpose, God may wedge aside. I would up heart, were it not like lead. But my whole clock's run down; my heart the all-controlling weight, I have no key to lift again.
[A burst of revelry from the forecastle.]
Oh, God! to sail with such a heathen crew that have small touch of human mothers in them! Whelped somewhere by the sharkish sea. The white whale is their demigorgon. Hark! the infernal orgies! that revelry is forward! mark the unfaltering silence aft! Methinks it pictures life. Foremost through the sparkling sea shoots on the gay, embattled, bantering bow, but only to drag dark Ahab after it, where he broods within his sternward cabin, builded over the dead water of the wake, and further on, hunted by its wolfish gurglings. The long howl thrills me through! Peace! ye revellers, and set the watch! Oh, life! 'tis in an hour like this, with soul beat down and held to knowledge,- as wild, untutored things are forced to feed- Oh, life! 'tis now that I do feel the latent horror in thee! but 'tis not me! that horror's out of me, and with the soft feeling of the human in me, yet will I try to fight ye, ye grim, phantom futures! Stand by me, hold me, bind me, O ye blessed influences!
Stabuck is not pleased with Ahab's leadership, sees doom in it. Yet, the crew is under Ahab's spell. Starbuck senses something wild and ferocious in both his captain and the other sailors. As he thinks, they are all "[w]helped somewhere by the sharkish sea." Translation: reason and rationality will have little effect on them. Starbuck has no way out. He turns to God for comfort and the strength to endure whatever the cold sea holds in store.
I find these stream of consciousness chapters fascinating. Previously, it was Ahab. This time, Starbuck. Two polar opposite characters--Ahab driven by vengeance, Starbuck by concern and fear. Both men believe in their missions. Ahab is chasing the devil. Starbuck is being commanded by him. Such an interesting battle of thought and will.
It is Friday afternoon. Just got home from work. My daughter is off having her nails done for her prom tomorrow evening. My son is at my mother's house, no doubt playing some game on his computer or stomping through the thawed mud and muck. Thus, I sit in silence, contemplating choice and freewill. Neither Ahab or Starbuck seem in charge of their own destinies. Ahab's fate is tied to a whale. Starbuck's fate is tied to a madman.
Of course, I believe in free will. My life is a product of the choices I have made. I chose to get married and have children. Chose to teach in the English Department of a university part-time, work in the healthcare field full-time. Tonight, I am choosing to write this blog post about choices. Later, when I go out for dinner with my wife and daughter, I will choose between gin and wine.
I am not disappointed in my life choices at all. I own them. I am not an Ahab, driven by anger or loss or retribution. I'm not Starbuck, allowing another person to steer the ship of my life. The last couple years have been pretty good to me. Teaching awards. The whole Poet Laureate thing. Of course, I've dealt with some hardships, as well. The death of my brother and sister and father. But I have chosen not to let these losses define my life. If I did, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning.
I am choosing to have a wonderful weekend. To watch my daughter get her nails and hair and makeup done. Witness her come down from her room in her prom dress, Take pictures. Attend the grand march. Maybe cry a little. Feel a little old. Go home and wonder how my little girl turned into such a beautiful, smart creature.
I am thankful for the choices I've made. For all the chaos and joy of those choices.
Now, if only Saint Marty's son would stop making the choice of getting in trouble on the school playground, life would be perfect.
#inschooldetention, #noafternoonrecess
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