Milkman of the Ocean

Some people live in a culture where sharing is actively discouraged. And then I think— James Joyce allegedly used to wear a milkman uniform when writing because his eyesight was so bad. Did he just put on the wrong outfit that morning? No. Allegedly, wearing all-white helped reflect light off of his clothes onto the page so that he could see better. This anecdote may not even be true— at least not in the sense that "truth" means it factually occurred. But there is "truth" to it; something that can easily be believed because people are that eccentric and determined to share their vision. It may not have happened in the particular, but it happens in the general every single day, whether you're James Joyce or not (and for the record, I don't claim to be. I've never even read any of his work). 

My point is: there's no end to the number of reasons why not to share something. Why it's a bad idea to attempt a connection with somebody— anybody— it doesn't even matter who, precisely. In "truth", yes, it is always a bad idea. There is a reason why sharing is actively discouraged. Effort can be misinterpreted. The resulting product might be unwanted, or unappreciated. Maybe these aren't the droids we're looking for.

But.

There's also a reason why someone— anyone— it doesn't matter who— feels compelled to do it anyway. To share. Share what? Just little moments in time, is all. That's all this is. A little moment in time, rolled up and dropped into a bottle, corked, and tossed into the ocean. In one way: he who throws his bottle into the ocean may be hoping for rescue someday. In another way: he might just be encouraging the ocean to write back.

One of two things may happen. I'll learn something about myself, certainly— but I may also learn something about the ocean, if it ever writes back. 

Then again, perhaps I am the ocean, and this is my message back. Time to put my milkman uniform on.

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