Sea Anchor

Been sick and depressed but managing to get myself back at the keyboard. Not being self indulgent – just a statement of fact. Been with a very depressed friend today and my advice to him is equally applicable to me. Simone Weill talks about obligation being the fundamental of human experience and my obligation is to share what I have experienced and offer it out to anyone who may choose to pick it up in the hope that it may help someone out there. If nothing else it may show someone that they are not entirely alone.

I talk about my writing being my sea anchor and I have written a piece which expands on that. The piece will act as the introduction for The Book of Fragments.



My parents in their extreme old age were like two rusting tankers calmly anchored in a backwater, sinking companionably beneath weed covered water.

I have never found that backwater.

I am holed and far out to sea.

Darkness is falling.

Like Jack London, I have come to a decision.

By the time it was dark, wind and sea had become too strong for the boat, and I reluctantly took in the sail and set about making a drag or sea-anchor.  I had learned of the device from the talk of the hunters, and it was a simple thing to manufacture.  Furling the sail and lashing it securely about the mast, boom, sprit, and two pairs of spare oars, I threw it overboard.  A line connected it with the bow, and as it floated low in the water, practically unexposed to the wind, it drifted less rapidly than the boat.  In consequence it held the boat bow on to the sea and wind—the safest position in which to escape being swamped when the sea is breaking into whitecaps.

These jottings are my sea anchor.

I want to see the horizon before I die.