I intend to be as transparent on this blog as I am able. I have decided to write weekly reports of my progress on planning the circumnavigation expedition, as well general writings on my life as it progresses through the usual growing pains of anyone in their mid-twenties. These blogs will be published every Saturday along with a collaboration of all the social media posts I’ve made for that week.
This is for me, too. It holds me accountable to write every week, and writing for me has always been like an old friend; even if we don’t see each other for a while, when we meet back up again it’s like we never separated. We all value those kinds of friends, and I’d like to make more of an effort to stay in touch. Of course, I’ve said this all before to my old friend, writing. Maybe now that I have this fancy website and even fancier subscriber list, I will keep my promise.
After all, writing without a reader is akin to the famous philosophical question of the tree falling in the forest with nobody around – did it even make a sound? I’ve always been of the opinion that of course it made a sound, and trees do not exist in a vacuum but in ecosystems, and every animal, bug, and plant heard and felt that tree fall. “Nobody around” then seems to mean “no humans around,” which actually fits my metaphor nicely. If I write and nobody reads it, the writing still exists. And even if nobody reads it, I (the tree) still experienced the writing (the fall), and even though no humans read (heard) it, all the other energies in the ether felt the writing happen. No, I don’t have spirits reading over my shoulder. I just think that if I experience something, that experience gets logged into the general experiences of everyone and everything, and you’re damn right everything heard that tree fall but you, maker of that egocentric philosophical question.
With all this in mind and the length these blogs can reach in times where people’s attention span is at an average of 8 seconds, if you’ve made it this far, congratulations. I think that sitting down to read is becoming a lost art, even though writers still write. It seems there are more and more trees falling down with nobody to hear them, because people seem to care less and less about listening to the trees, or reading the words that are printed on them.
I understand if it’s difficult to read on the screen and not on paper; believe me, I would rather be using a typewriter right now, so I can see the words in the flesh as they transition from nebulous thoughts to complete sentences. I’ve come to realize I’m an analog person, and struggle with screens, the internet, things that don’t exist in the tangible world. Things that don’t have a physical presence, like a map on a GPS, can be difficult for me to grasp. Asking someone to read a weekly blog on a screen is something I personally wouldn’t be into unless it was sent to my mailbox. I guess, then, there would be more trees to listen to fall as they are sacrificed to make the paper for my weekly blogs. So, we’ll stick with the screens.
Well if you’re just now tuning in to the adventures of Ellen Magellan, thanks and welcome! You can check out my website to see a brief overview of what I’ve been up to, and what I plan to be up to. This blog will focus mainly on the latter, but who knows where my writing will take me. I hope you’re along for the ride!
That’s all for this week, it was a comparatively average week of flying with students (I work as a flight instructor), stressing about paperwork (I’m starting a nonprofit), and visiting my Pápá (Grandpa, who needs a little help). It’s been a little over a month since the end of my last expedition (4.5 months solo in a canoe), and I am finally starting to feel like I’m over the hump of the transition. Having ready access to potable water, fresh food, and a dry place to sleep certainly helps, but it’s never easy to come back.
But I’m here – let’s plan the next expedition and this time, I’m taking you with me.