The Flag of Inconvenience

Caren Knight - Khaled Farag

ate afternoon, the weather is stormy, I gaze at the horizon, no splitting line between heaven and earth, one grey area,

deep grey turns to pitch black, the storm is roaring and the sea is persistently rolling. From a cliff I perceive the ebbing and flowing is never faltering, never failing. Its surge carries the unfolded experience of my unspoken fear, and its wrath mixes my weakness and helplessness with my grim undecided bravery, to sail to my port of call.

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I spent the night in reverie of colorful visions of adventure, wealth and women, awaiting the appropriate moment to set sails, from above the cliff; I challenged the wind and large drops of rain, with the weakness of my nakedness, and my feverish desire to encounter the unpredictability of the howling winds of the unseen. I passed the night in a melancholy despair as I demanded the defining of my destination and port of call.

Sunrise… shafts of light wrestle with heavily laden dark clouds, I meditate …. I sip my drink; lonely I sat watching the sea, as it turns to its calm and tranquil, spending the day idly eating barbequed fish and fresh fruits, watching its dark and its gleaming, in similitude with the emotions of a desperate desire to sail.

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Hesitant is my mind, and defiant is my soul to jeopardise my eternity. No matter its mood, be it temperate or raging, the unremitting movement keeps this ocean of my soul perpetually changing, adapting and molding itself with all it encounters, but yet, my inner emptiness presses on me and escalates the risk of my undesired adventure to forsake the stolid safeness of the cliff and sail of my destination port of call.

Where am I to go, where to harbor and why, when to sail, what flag to raise, what boat to take. Do I repair my wrecked fishing boat? It's good size and high speed. I should choose close company… but loneliness is better than bad company… as wise men might suggest… but where to find my harbor of call …. I need a map …. a compass and whatever else I do not know.

As I have learnt from the sea; obstacles of encumbrance, worries, agonies and even joys are all eroded away by the sea’s persistence and repetition of action, and never does it submit to any other than its purpose … an everlasting change, evolves into new born reality.

Whilst I would take cruise to the ocean to try to disembark at my port of call, threaded with my inner hollowness, keen to realise the essence of my cause, purpose and destination, others would trickle away to the comfort and predictable course of enjoyment, and if lively,

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perhaps a babbling life style. Moreover some soak idly in the bitterness of a communal life, or at worst, rot in a stagnant family. What makes this course or that to happen, what urges me to think of sailing, the cliff is more secure and I have the privilege to watch with an eagle eye at the rigorous events of the ocean’s stroke, with which its purposefully breaking waves re-form the destruction of the day and re-build the night to face again the relentless and repetitive re-destruction of tomorrow?

If all vessels were to set sail upon the ocean of their port of call and navigate their way through the ocean and beyond; how would they set their course to seek their destination? Their vessels in which they sail must be meticulously

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prepared, and thus patience in dry dock is requisite. Shall I set sail in a dinghy in haste and hope for the best? Or shall I prepare a boat fit for purpose? The ocean has a purpose, birds have destinations and bees have vision and plans and thus the appropriate vessel is essential.

Mature wood for the hull is not grown or seasoned in a fleeting moment. The bluntness of the stern for what is past and the pointing of the bow cutting to the future, are by design ironic timely reminders. The iron tempered with might and care should grip the hull together. Oils and paints to seal and protect must coat the entire surfaces, for if even a patch is bare, the rot will begin to set and spread before even setting sail. The mast straight and true takes time to erect, for nothing stands without foundation. The ropes to hoist with every thread twisted in unity secure all resistance encountered and the sails of thick linen, each weft and yarn-stitch taught and yet yielding. At the helm the direction will be at my very hand. The means to change course and ability to avoid peril cannot be engineered by hastily thrown together components, or a desperate last second spin of the wheel. Time, maturity, patience, strength are all prerequisites of setting out on such a voyage.

The vessel is, although prerequisite, not the ultimate consideration of this voyage. Before embarking I must at least have focus on where my final destination should be. If setting out on

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open sea not knowing the location of the final port of call, then aimless wandering and confusion is all that awaits me; the sailor.

All individuals are to travel upon differing courses; all have emblems, a flag upon which they portray their status, direction and intention. Choose the right flag, and those who encounter it will see the strength and determination, rather than the weakness and opportunity to divert off course.

I may wish to set sail on a voyage of peace, enjoyment and adventure, yet I must live amid my dream; raise my flag, a white flag? No, for to raise a white flag would signify little else than submission and weakness to those who raise the Jolly Roger in their eagerness to pick the skull and bones of those who falter in the least. I must choose my colours well. I leave no doubt that my voyage is honorable and my course is set for nothing other than glory and victory.

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Do I expect the ocean will relent in its purpose, allowing a safe and tranquil passage? Do I expect to be unhindered; graced with smooth sailing, calm seas and fair winds? I presume that such expectations lead only to dependence on uncertainty, and thus comes the certainty of peril. It is but a path to sail upon. Underestimation and over expectation are the deep waters of weakness upon which many a sailor could be drowned within. The call upon experience and inherent intuition is vital for early predictions, and to expect nothing is better than to fall at need in an expectations absence.

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Alas, this voyage is fraught with danger, my enemies lay in wait, the pirates of the sea, the thieves of treasures, the spiritual and moral corrupters of souls and the tempters of indulgence. They creep in the night beneath the cover of darkness and whisper temptation to be carried on the winds. They seek to gain power and wealth, and their weapon of choice, to misguide. But pirates hoist their sails with gaping holes in their haste to pillage; ragged and torn they are not fit for purpose and thus the winds blow through. The flag they raise can be seen too clearly even in the dark revealing their mission, their colours of malevolence emblazoned with their arrogance. They will be slowed and staid amid the illusion of their own power. The ocean does not relent for them any

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more than it relents for me. What is my weapon of choice to drag upon such enemies to render them exposed? Once armaments are seen they will be scuttled to the darkest corners in defeat, like rats abandoning a sinking ship. The dark is where they dwell and the dark is where they return. The light is hope, strength and humility, truth and destiny.

Upon this voyage in truth I set out to challenge the sea. I test my faith, confront my fears, face my despairs and cast my nets to seek my hopes and dreams. I battle the elements in tempest and drought, in fair winds or no winds at all. What is the purpose of my voyage? Shall I be blown off course or diverted by the shallow waters of excitement? Shall I gain strength and courage defending my true course? What is my true cause? Shall I be steadfast, determined,

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strong and patient? Shall I reach my destination? What is my destination? To question or not to question this voyage is irrelevant. What is relevant is my acute awareness to consciously take it, and prepare for it; to raise my flag and set forth for victory.

What I seek, what I find, how I react and how I adapt; how I change and all that I become by my failures and achievements through choice, through pain and through joy; this is the voyage I take. And as I traverse the ocean, I must ultimately understand, that if I but knew it… it is not the destination that leads to the voyage but the voyage itself that leads to the final destination, what flag to raise, and what port of call to disembark; these are persisting questions…. I will sleep on it...

End.

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