diff --git a/content/sail.gmi b/content/sail.gmi
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..949a6ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/content/sail.gmi
@@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
+It's the last evening of the year as I write this, and I feel my mind is perhaps a bit of a mess.
+I feel psychologically, mentally emotionally beaten about, a tiny yacht on a vast, stormy sea.
+To go on, there are dual, necessary, but opposed needs.
+
+To the first, I need to rest.
+
+Exhaustion helps no one, and to face the ocean worn and tired is to invite mistakes: the sea is a harsh mistress after all, and surely won't forgive.
+To this end, I heave-to, retreat inside and light the hearth.
+Outside the watery turmoil abates none, but from inside the cabin that's no concern of mine.
+Now far into this voyage, I turn to my habitual comforts to whittle away minutes, hours and days in the pursuit of trite dopamine hits from the eternal entertainment matrix.
+In the moment, there's a respite, an absence of exhaustion, of concern, of anxiety or worry, but an absence is all it is: there's no recovery or improvement.
+
+As a smoker is relieved in the moment by a rush of nicotine, to dip into my own coping mechanisms is alluring, relieving, but ultimately futile.
+It's a pattern I should know: I smoked for years, and ultimately kicked it.
+To smoke from time to time isn't a failure - I've not resorted to the habit.
+
+I steal away hours in the night, feeling that I'm clawing back my sense of self-evident existence, but come the morn I am where I already was, still at sea, without a horizon in sight.
+I know that which brings me joy and growth is that which I create, explore, learn and do anew.
+I know concurrently that mine habit this outcome will not provide: but I remain stuck in my own animal desires and complexes, unable to crack the cycle with any frustratingly logical analysis.
+
+To the second, I need to progress.
+
+Every moment I spend warming myself in the cabin, buried under blankets and ignoring the maelstrom on the other side of the hull, is a moment I don't spend moving.
+I don't know that the voyage will ever end, that I may ever sight land on the horizon, but how sad it would be to be equipped with a sail and to sit still.
+I know that to push my own endurance, will and ability is a pursuit and goal in itself.
+To move, to be swift, to strike out for somewhere new is that which has brought me the greatest joy and meaning I've ever known.
+The more I practice, learn and endure, the faster I will go, the easier it will be.
+
+The calculus is clear: go out into the storm.
+Go out into the wind and the rain and the dark and the cold and face it, travel and progress regardless.
+The hearth will always be there, but I will not. 
+
+If I do not go now, tomorrow, and every moment I can, how can I ever excuse what might have been, but is not?
+
+
+