Guest post by Frederick Manfred Simon.
April 4, 2019
Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan
must have relied heavily on his cosmographer and sextant when he set
out on the “Peaceful Sea” in search of fame and fortune while
finding a westward route to the Spice Islands on board his flagship
Trinidad on behalf of the Spanish Crown, eventually achieving the
near circumnavigation of the globe five-hundred years ago. I imagine.
I imagine his trepidation of the coming storms and mutinies immixed
with the tenacity of an explorer par none. I imagine. I imagine
myself as Fernão de Magalhães gazing into an endless night of
scintillating stars forever. In lieu of finding islands of spice
somewhere beyond the cosmic horizon, I’m in search of edible gold
collected on Iles along a fixed course navigated some 130 years
prior. A captain at the helm of my landbound ship pitching and yawing
slowly stabbing westward across an infinite sea of undulating
earthen-brown waves unending; a sea in near permanent stasis. Of
land. Scape. Earth. Sediment. Shaped. Violently. Over eons now
cultivated into an ocean of gold; a copious campaign where the seeds
of bread are born and borne; matrix of the cornucopia that feeds the
world. And no matter how many times I embark on this Sisyphean
voyage, I too feel the trepidation and tenacity of a modern-day
explorer as I push the black pitch of twinkling night before me to
the next island, and the next, and the next, ad infinitum.
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