Greek island ferry trips in the winter. Four and a half hours of un-distracted time on the deck in economy class. Low rumbling engines, wind lashing the after-deck and rolling rolling on the swell. The buzz of a political discussion in Greek from a neighbouring group of islanders – a language I understand well but as a foreigner doesn’t penetrate my psyche. So I tune out leaving only the friendly sound of humanity.
Time without the pressure to accomplish anything. A parenthesis in the modern world. If I do nothing that’s fine. Mildly bored, relaxed the mind wanders open to any thought that might break the monotony.
Idly playing with software and ideas, inspiration strikes! A old dead-end opens into a wide avenue. Away from this wild and rolling seascape how dull the mind becomes in the constant din of everyday life. But in the sweet boredom of life at sea, like Ishmael in Moby Dick the mind rambling the landscape of consciousness peers over into the unconscious making out strange shapes in the mist.