The Waters of Long Life, are the Waters of Insanity

   Sailing was never such an art. No, never before. But, when I launched from Bermuda, I looked at the waves with a new glint in my eye. When I cuffed my hand over my eyes to shield out the blinding sun, I saw everything differently.
   Life will never be the same.
   I will begin by saying, If I will sail, I must sail on. I am old at this time -- by some accounts, 64 years of age. But, if I am to get anywhere, I must sail right into old age and keep on going.
   Same ship, same sail, for the body I've got is the body I've got.
   But, the boat doesn't sail itself. It doesn't call the shots. It is the captain who sails the ship, and he must listen to the Lord who guides him. Death may come to the seaman; Some say, it always does. But, there is a voice in those winds. You can hear it clearly through the crashing waves, if you listen carefully. You can hear it in the whistling winds.
   It says, Quiet. Be still. The winds and the waves and the storm tossed sea, and demons and men and whatever might be. . . . Quiet. Be still. Fear not their dangers, but sail on into the ravaging sea.
   And, if death should come, there's an ocean of love for thy spirit.
  I spent a fortnight in the Strait of Hormuz. Enemy waters. But, if the freight is to come through the watery' pass, this is the point of passage. I carry luggage. I carry freight. So, I pass through the Strait of Hormuz in search of an open sea.
  Two weeks there. Racked with the pains of a damned soul. Everyone has their luggage, and mine was failing to be patient enough with the soul of a friend. I sent him to death, possibly, by scoffing at his needs, by failing to see that he, too, was in deep waters.
   I am in different waters now. As I said, I just launched from Bermuda. Quiet waters. Quiet land. Peace, be still. Peace. my soul, be still.
  I must shield my eyes against the sun. I must not look at it straightly. This is a trick I learned from a fellow sailor, one who had been driven insane by life on the open sea. All the insane know this method, this trick. In order to protect themselves, they look away. They refuse to see life as it is. Our faults can be so great, we cannot bear them. If we would look at them straightly, they would burn us up, fry us right down to our shoes.
   So, it should be said, The sane find their protection in insanity. They remain sane only by swallowing a measure of insanity. Since this is a sailor's story, I shall state it this way, The sane drink from the waters of insanity.
  You must know the sailor doesn't drink from the sea. Waters all around him, but he can not take his cup from them. Kidneys, you know -- they do not work when given so much salt.
  So, if the truth be the waters before him, the sailor must drink from a different cup.
  The storms abound on the sea of life. Some days the sea might be calm, but you cannot escape when the storm does come. You are there on the open sea, with no place to hide, no place to run. You must face the storm.
   But, I will tell you, you can take your strength from the sea, and from the storms that spray the waves up over the bow, onto the deck, slapping you in the face with salt stinging your eyes.
 Cover your eyes then, cover them.
  Yes, the lessons of life are learned on the sea. And, strength from the sea. And, life of the sea can weather you, or you can weather it.
   Now, I must only half lay down  this analogy to the sea, if I am to tell the full of my story. I will begin by telling you  of one of the biggest keys of life: Excitement. I refer you back to your birth, when you burst from a little ocean of water called the womb and came forth in life, everything new, everything exciting.
   Now, as it is that I am suggesting excitement is a key to life. Look at what youth is! All is a adventure; All is a discovery. The babe gaggles at the world around him, and the child explores the by-ways and strange streets.
  Now, in life, there are two buttons to push: You can push the Like button, or you can push the Don't Like button. Every time something crosses into your life, you are given that choice.
  Will you notice this: In childhood, there are a lot of Likes to push. Pushing that button comes naturally. As I said, life is an adventure, a discovery. Even 20 years in, leaving home, the world lies in all its excitement before you.
   But, sooner of later, the newness of life wears off. And, the fun gives way to fear. I think of a basketball player the Jazz just signed, and of how a few voices suggested he might make it as the top pick in the NBA draft in 2015. Four years later, he is signing a league-minimum contract. What happened? Did he get jaded when the following year Jamal Murray took his job? Did he get scarred and scared somewhere along the way?
  So, we burst from youth to adulthood in excitement, pushing the Like button with so much furry. But, it is not always so. I will tell you of a friend. Yes, he pushed the Don't Like button well before leaving home. But, it was perhaps leaving home when things really soured for him, times he was so poor, food was hard to afford.
   I remember he once moved in with me in Evanston for a short period of months. I had no clue what he was going through. I treated him indifferently. Short years later, if even that, it became clear his sanity had left him.
   Cruel worlds have no mercy.
   Now, I have drifted time and again from the focus of what I came to say. Life is a never-ending series of choice. Each time something happens, you can push the Like button, or the Don't Like button. It doesn't matter if what happens is a negative, you can still push the Like button. It is a challenge, a chance to make the best of it. Push Like because . . .
  Only in Like is there life. When you push the Like button, bodily fluids are released -- call them adrenaline. If that is exactly what they are or if they are just something kin to that, I do not know. If you push the Don't Like button, fluids or electricity or whatever is released that can paralyze and shake you being.
  I do not know but what brain tumors and seizures and strokes all fit into this. My thinking is, they do. And, death.
  I witnessed a nearing 100-year-old man walk near me yesterday. I overhead some of what he said, and noticed the excitement in his words.
  Still pushing the Like button, he was.
  Then today, while at a political event, I met a man who when I first spoke to him, I almost asked him (maybe I did) if he was old enough to vote. It turns out, he was 36. In him, too, I found nothing but pushing the buttons of excitement. When he spoke of choosing between running for governor or president, of course I thought that a little much. But, at least he is pushing the buttons of youth.
  So, if you would live long, look to the sea. The lessons of life are the lessons of the sea. When the sailor goes out that first time, he is excited. He gazes ahead, and as far as the horizon reaches, nothing but beautiful, sun-kissed waters. And, when the storms come, the sailor reacts with excitement, scurrying to fight the elements.
   We speak of crusty old sailors. I wonder at them, of how they draw excitement from facing the storms. I wonder if they die quicker from all the storms, as they eventually wear them out, or if they draw strength from answering to the bell of life.
   It might somewhere have been said, More people die from retirement than die from work. When they retire, they relax. The things that push adrenaline through their veins are gone. And, when that ceases, they curl up and die -- literally.
   Much of this is postulate, much of it is theory. I don't know for certain that excitement is one of the most definite factors in a long life. But, I think it might be clear that it definitely plays a role.
   Smile at the storms, and there will only be sunshine. There may be insanity in this, but long life may be only for those who dip often in the waters of insanity -- if insanity is said to be blocking out the things that should bother us.
  At any rate, keep pushing the Like button of life. Push the button that says you can, not the one that says you can't. You are no older than you feel, and all that I've said is the essay on that.

(Note:To be edited later. 'Tis too late to edit tonight.)