"I'm late," I said to St. Brendan

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I'm a couple days late, but this past Monday, the 16th was the day of my patron saint, Saint Brendan the navigator.

Aside from being a somewhat scary looking guy, Brandan was an old sea dog, and probably a prolific storyteller. If we take him at his word (which I do not necessarily recommend), he and his monks discovered the Americas. They also camped upon a floating whale, not knowing what it was until they set a fire.

I'm very proud to be associated with this guy. Not only does he embody the restlessness imbued in that Bjork lyric I quoted two days ago ("If travel is searching and home what's been found, I'm not stopping,") but he also suggest that just because one is a saint doesn't mean he can't have any fun. St. Brendan was Irish, he was a sailor, and clearly enjoyed good company. Whoever said that saints can't cause any trouble?

Within the next week, I'll be celebrating St. Brendan by taking a long, long walk toward un unknown destination overnight. If you're interested in coming along, send me an email and we'll conspire together!