Fill me up

The bookshelf on the boat is my playground these days. I'm trying to shove as many words and images that I can't take with me physically into this slippery brain of mine. Slippery because so many ideas and options and emotions are bumping around in there, sliding off cell walls full of pasted up memories, snippets of conversations, 3am dreams that may have been real, red wine soaked red blood cells calling for more zinfandel, and an army of societal expectations sinking in the cerebrospinal muck.
So I am devouring and borrowing, the pile of pages in my cabin on my bed at my feet and my head almost toppling over, making sleep dangerous (book corner in the eye!) and uncomfortable (I can't stretch out my legs all the way! Cramp!!).

It's not just books. I sit in the crew mess absorbing words flung about, smiles across sushi and chicken wings, bickering tones turning to laughter, a tribe of strong willed individuals who have become a family. Today the topic of conversation at lunch was me.
I am being (voluntarily) flung from the nest on Friday, onto the road and sea, onto new projects and groups of smiling, strong willed persons. My current circle volleyed suggestions for work across the table, smirking with each outrageously (un)helpful but hilarious proposition. Propositioning indeed came into the forefront as our lunchtime discussions usually plummet into baseness; this was no different. I went along with the various ingenious forms of prostitution humorously thrown at me (in talk, not action. geesh) and relished the last days of inappropriate discussions involving sex or bodily functions as we chow down on the piles of food in front of us. But more than the words and jokes, I am going to miss the companionship, the loyalty, and the kindness of this transient family where I was fortunate enough to land. I'm actually going to miss sharing a room ("Nighty night" L says from the bunk under mine), sharing meals, sharing hysterical laughter during dinner service ("sssshhhh, they can (gasp) hear. Pffawww!!!") with the Galley Girls and M. Nights out, midnight swims, impromptu brunches, the appreciation of good wine. The eight months on board have buoyed me up and let me be free in a way that only (for me) a gypsy-appropriate job can. A sort of working meditation. Throughout the months the thoughts have led to action and now I know that a different sort of freedom is in order.

It's time to fill up the outline of me with new adventures, new words, new roads and stories and new views of the stars. Fill me up with tumbling emotions and escalating knowledge, perfect sunsets and breaths full of pine/salt/jungle scented air. Fill me up with fresh food and dirt on my hands, children's questions and old folks' wisdom. Fill this outline to the limits and more, spill me into the world and let me slip into others' lives and grow and be.

Shake me up, will you?