Your heart is a muscle and you have you use it, and respect it, and love it, and have to listen to it, it talks to you.
A treasure hunt. I was in Sweden last month in search of the right schooner for a voyage...and for few more practical reasons. Now I’m in London and I don’t think there are too many Spanish Santa Maria old sea worthy vessels lying around these harbors. However what I am looking for is an old book. One of those books that have been handed down ages. Sits atop a book shelf only accessible by latter. Dusty, with scribbles on the margins...barley legible drawings of hidden coves, and theories. A journal of sorts.... Although most of the earth has been explored, most of the sea bed is uncharted and I am scuuuuba certified. Mystery and good tales await! Ok enough of that olde English accent. In all reality sitting on beach with a mai tai in your hand gets boring rather quickly. Give me a shovel and put me to use. We work ourselves into oblivion thinking one day we’ll buy a place in the tropics and all will be good. All wrongs righted. Yet why are we not searching for the things we ought to be searching for now. Where is the real “gold” in life? Where is your purpose? ~
I repeat and add a few more lines.... Your heart is a muscle and you have you use it, and respect it, and love it, and have to listen to it, it talks to you. It leads you to far away lands, and there and back again. ~
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