A few chapters ago, I mentioned a man named Bulkington, a tall sailor I had met at an inn in New Bedford.
On that freezing winter night, when the Pequod pushed her bow into the cold, angry waves, I suddenly saw him at the helm.
I could hardly believe it.
Bulkington had only just returned from a dangerous four-year voyage. He had barely reached land before setting out again on another long and uncertain journey.
It seemed as if he could not stay on shore.
The land itself seemed to make him restless.
There are some things in a person’s life that are too deep to explain. Some experiences leave no words behind, and some memories have no proper monument.
That is almost all I can say about Bulkington.
His story was like that of a ship caught in a violent storm and driven toward a dangerous shore.
The shore should have been a place of safety.
It offered shelter from the storm, warm food, a bed, dry clothes, friends, and everything a tired person could want.
But for a ship caught in such a storm, the shore could become its greatest danger.
If the ship reached the land, even slightly touching the bottom, it could be destroyed.
So the ship had to fight against the very wind that was pushing it toward safety.
It had to raise every sail and struggle back toward the open ocean.
The sea was dangerous, yet the shore was even more dangerous.
The ship’s only friend had become its worst enemy.
Bulkington, do you understand what I mean?
Perhaps you can see the terrible truth hidden inside his story.
Maybe all serious thinking is really a struggle of the soul to remain free and independent, like a ship on the open sea.
The world constantly tries to drive us toward a safe and comfortable shore.
But perhaps true freedom can only exist when there is no shore to limit us.
The open sea has no clear boundaries.
It stretches endlessly into the unknown, as vast and mysterious as God himself.
If that is where truth lives, then perhaps it is better to face danger in the endless ocean than to crawl helplessly toward a shore that promises safety.
What good is safety if it means giving up everything that makes us free?
Why should a person live like a frightened creature, desperately clinging to land?
Bulkington, take courage.
Keep going.
Stand firm against the storm like a man who refuses to surrender.
If you must perish in the endless ocean, then rise above that death.
For a man like you, even destruction can become a kind of triumph.