A ship’s course through uncertain waters is charted in two ways: one, the arbitrary dance of head, tail and cross winds and the other, the deft handling of the wheel by the captain. The winds are the most unpredictable of all, yet, if the helmsman is unsure, the movement of the ship is as random as the whim of the winds.
A good friend is contemplating a significant change in life. Turn the wheel enough to make a U-turn, almost. I am of the opinion that this is a retreat of sorts. I itch every moment to scream and make myself heard. It has been a few days now and I haven’t even made the subtlest of moves; forget the scream, there hasn’t been a whisper even, only a cyclone in the deep sea of my mind.
All the confidence about us is like the body of the ship – the hull and the mast, the sail and the wheel. Our anchor however is always outside. Without a voice of its own hanging on the Cat Head, cast and weighed at the Captain’s command.
It is good that the anchor has no voice; else it may undermine the hands that turn the wheel. Yet, in its mute nature, a hoarse and feeble voice:
Our doubts are traitors,
And makes us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt.
~William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, Act 1, Scene 4
For now, I hold my tongue.