I truly love this one. I love the ocean — the way it makes me feel: naked, vulnerable, every sense awake and alert.
I've never sailed a sailboat, and I imagine it must feel like riding a motorbike, but on a ground that's alive, unstable and treacherous.
I once traveled on a Chilean navy landing ship to Robinson Crusoe Island, and I got to stand on deck at night — to see the stars, the bright plankton glowing in the water, the flying fish landing on the deck, the cold salt wind on my face. Your writing carried me back to that ship.
What a beauty, to be able to give yourself to the sea like that.
Thank you for this wonderful comment and connection, and for sharing the memories my writing connected with. That is such a gift! And I think your description of what it feels to sail is completely on point, I love it so deeply. There is something about a dark night out at sea, just like you describe, that fills me with peace and wonder.
Thank you so much, Alexander. Coming from someone who actually lives out there on the water, your words mean a great deal to me. I deeply love the ocean and your writing manages to bring all those wild sensations right back. I’m really happy to have found your space.
The sea can be treacherous but also magnificent. My father taught me to respect it as if it was a volubile being, not lead by morals but by constantly changing emotions. Strong emotions. Beware of it's temper but love it none the less
I love this sentiment, and it reflects my experiences deeply. There is something so special about the changing sea, like changing emotions just as you say.
I felt like I had been transported back into an ancient Greek voyage. I loved the dark tones at the beginning, and then the lightness and victory that emerged at the end.
I had almost forgotten about whirlpools—there is something about them that really terrifies me. Their deadly pull, eager to suck you beneath the waves, feels like a portal to the Underworld.
Thank you for reading Simon. Your wonderful comment itself evokes a similar sense of epic myth! It's lovely when the themes and mood resonates as it felt when I wrote it, and the greek myth aspect was at the forefront.
The fact that whirlpools are real still baffles me, and when you are near them in a small sailboat they are truly terrifying.
A wondrous voyage, and mythologising it a bit is fine. We all do this in our heads anyway, when we reflect back upon a major journey. Your Viking ancestors will have done the same, and so we have the sagas...
The mysterious exists even in the everyday, if we look closely enough. In the seas around Scotland, it must emanate from everything.
It makes me feel like finding a boat and setting off on a voyage too...
Thank you Dave, you always leave such wonderful, thoughtful comments, and I deeply appreciate you reading.
Writing this has in many ways made me relate to how it must have felt for the vikings out at sea, with all the unknowns. No wonder they came up with sagas and myths!
Thank you for this beautiful comment. It's hard to do complete justice do the magic of Scotland in such few words, but I'm glad I could convey some of it!
Thank you! It's certainly inspired by the imagery of the odyssey, moby dick and paradise lost. Funnily enough it very closely follows the actual arc of the sailing I did, although here I have obviously added some mythical embellishment! I didn't set out to follow the hero's quest structure but it fell naturally into it (and maybe it is deeply ingrained in my brain as a narrative structure)
I truly love this one. I love the ocean — the way it makes me feel: naked, vulnerable, every sense awake and alert.
I've never sailed a sailboat, and I imagine it must feel like riding a motorbike, but on a ground that's alive, unstable and treacherous.
I once traveled on a Chilean navy landing ship to Robinson Crusoe Island, and I got to stand on deck at night — to see the stars, the bright plankton glowing in the water, the flying fish landing on the deck, the cold salt wind on my face. Your writing carried me back to that ship.
What a beauty, to be able to give yourself to the sea like that.
Thank you for this wonderful comment and connection, and for sharing the memories my writing connected with. That is such a gift! And I think your description of what it feels to sail is completely on point, I love it so deeply. There is something about a dark night out at sea, just like you describe, that fills me with peace and wonder.
Thank you so much, Alexander. Coming from someone who actually lives out there on the water, your words mean a great deal to me. I deeply love the ocean and your writing manages to bring all those wild sensations right back. I’m really happy to have found your space.
Kismet is the best name for a boat I've ever heard. ✨
Thank you, it was her name when I found her, so it really did feel like destiny!
Seriously, that could be the start of an adventure novel!
The sea can be treacherous but also magnificent. My father taught me to respect it as if it was a volubile being, not lead by morals but by constantly changing emotions. Strong emotions. Beware of it's temper but love it none the less
I love this sentiment, and it reflects my experiences deeply. There is something so special about the changing sea, like changing emotions just as you say.
So mythical, Alexander!
I felt like I had been transported back into an ancient Greek voyage. I loved the dark tones at the beginning, and then the lightness and victory that emerged at the end.
I had almost forgotten about whirlpools—there is something about them that really terrifies me. Their deadly pull, eager to suck you beneath the waves, feels like a portal to the Underworld.
Thank you for reading Simon. Your wonderful comment itself evokes a similar sense of epic myth! It's lovely when the themes and mood resonates as it felt when I wrote it, and the greek myth aspect was at the forefront.
The fact that whirlpools are real still baffles me, and when you are near them in a small sailboat they are truly terrifying.
A roller coaster of emotions and a beautiful combination thought provoking scenes as I travelled your Soul Of The Sea ⛴️
Thank you for reading and for this wonderful comment, Donna!
Hey Alexander
A wondrous voyage, and mythologising it a bit is fine. We all do this in our heads anyway, when we reflect back upon a major journey. Your Viking ancestors will have done the same, and so we have the sagas...
The mysterious exists even in the everyday, if we look closely enough. In the seas around Scotland, it must emanate from everything.
It makes me feel like finding a boat and setting off on a voyage too...
Best Wishes - Dave :)
Thank you Dave, you always leave such wonderful, thoughtful comments, and I deeply appreciate you reading.
Writing this has in many ways made me relate to how it must have felt for the vikings out at sea, with all the unknowns. No wonder they came up with sagas and myths!
What a beautiful read, Alexander. Captivating. Scotland is mythical and wild, in places. You capture it so richly in your writing.
Thank you for this beautiful comment. It's hard to do complete justice do the magic of Scotland in such few words, but I'm glad I could convey some of it!
Such evocative writing - I really felt like I was there 🌿
Without making it explicit, you have conjured the spirit of the Hero’s Quest. Very poetic, and exciting reading.
Thank you! It's certainly inspired by the imagery of the odyssey, moby dick and paradise lost. Funnily enough it very closely follows the actual arc of the sailing I did, although here I have obviously added some mythical embellishment! I didn't set out to follow the hero's quest structure but it fell naturally into it (and maybe it is deeply ingrained in my brain as a narrative structure)