The base of this wheel is buried in the ground, and so it is stable and does not move. I’ve often wondered what would happen, though, if I were to dig it up and begin navigating the world. For surely, this must be the helm of the world. It can’t be anything else.
I can picture it now. At first there would be a lot of cracking and creaking because the world is so used to being stuck in its spot in the port. But I would stand my ground and turn the helm and keep turning it. Then quite suddenly, the Earth would begin to move and shake a bit, and then it would take on the rhythmic pulse of the waves. Slowly, it would leave the port and sail on heaven’s ocean. And I’d be the captain. “All aboard!!” I’d shout as we set off, and as many of you who wanted to come along would be welcome, but I wouldn't wait for anyone who hasn’t made his mind up.
We can’t do anything about the ship we’ve been given, but we can still steer it in the general direction in which we want to go. We can swab the deck and batten down the hatches and make her look really pretty. We can set sail for any port we’d like, and we can always refuse to dock in any port we dislike. The ship is not ours to own forever, but it is ours to command while we are here. The ocean on which we sail does not belong to us, but it is the medium for our vehicle and will support us if we respect it. You are a clipper ship, not a tugboat. See that you behave that way.
|Grab the helm while you still can.|