“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.” ----from ‘Moby Dick’ by Herman Melville
We too have times when we grow grim about the mouth. We must get back to whatever it is that renews our spirit, our sense of purpose in life. The very thing that rejuvenates one’s soul. There is far too much grimness in people’s lives; too many damp drizzly November days in the soul. When we stray from the path of the Dao, we stray from that which gives us our inner life.