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Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity
Crossing the Unknown Sea is about reuniting the imagination with our day to day lives. It shows how poetry and practicality, far from being mutually exclusive, reinforce each other to give every aspect of our lives meaning and direction. For anyone who wants to deepen their connection to their life’s work — or find out what their life’s work is — this book can help navigate the way. Whyte encourages readers to take risks at work that will enhance their personal growth, and shows how burnout can actually be beneficial and used to renew professional interest. He asserts that too many people blindly trudge through a mediocre work life because so many “busy” tasks prevent significant reflection and analysis of job satisfaction. People often turn to spiritual practice or religion to nurture their souls, but overlook how work can actually be our greatest opportunity for discovery and growth. Crossing the Unknown Sea combines poetry, gifted storytelling and Whyte’s personal experience to reveal work’s potential to fulfill us and bring us closer to ultimate freedom and happiness.
272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
About the author
David Whyte
76 books1,444 followersPoet David Whyte grew up with a strong, imaginative influence from his Irish mother among the hills and valleys of his father’s Yorkshire. He now makes his home in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.
The author of seven books of poetry and three books of prose, David Whyte holds a degree in Marine Zoology and has traveled extensively, including living and working as a naturalist guide in the Galapagos Islands and leading anthropological and natural history expeditions in the Andes, Amazon and Himalaya. He brings this wealth of experience to his poetry, lectures and workshops.
His life as a poet has created a readership and listenership in three normally mutually exclusive areas: the literate world of readings that most poets inhabit, the psychological and theological worlds of philosophical enquiry and the world of vocation, work and organizational leadership.
An Associate Fellow at Said Business School at the University of Oxford, he is one of the few poets to take his perspectives on creativity into the field of organizational development, where he works with many European, American and international companies. In spring of 2008 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Neumann College, Pennsylvania.
In organizational settings, using poetry and thoughtful commentary, he illustrates how we can foster qualities of courage and engagement; qualities needed if we are to respond to today’s call for increased creativity and adaptability in the workplace. He brings a unique and important contribution to our understanding of the nature of individual and organizational change, particularly through his unique perspectives on Conversational Leadership.
The author of seven books of poetry and three books of prose, David Whyte holds a degree in Marine Zoology and has traveled extensively, including living and working as a naturalist guide in the Galapagos Islands and leading anthropological and natural history expeditions in the Andes, Amazon and Himalaya. He brings this wealth of experience to his poetry, lectures and workshops.
His life as a poet has created a readership and listenership in three normally mutually exclusive areas: the literate world of readings that most poets inhabit, the psychological and theological worlds of philosophical enquiry and the world of vocation, work and organizational leadership.
An Associate Fellow at Said Business School at the University of Oxford, he is one of the few poets to take his perspectives on creativity into the field of organizational development, where he works with many European, American and international companies. In spring of 2008 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Neumann College, Pennsylvania.
In organizational settings, using poetry and thoughtful commentary, he illustrates how we can foster qualities of courage and engagement; qualities needed if we are to respond to today’s call for increased creativity and adaptability in the workplace. He brings a unique and important contribution to our understanding of the nature of individual and organizational change, particularly through his unique perspectives on Conversational Leadership.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 158 reviews
May 21, 2010
I got perhaps one third of the way into this book and then took it back to the library -- because I knew I needed my own copy so I could write in the margins and underline Whyte's beautiful, insightful sentences.
I've been struggling with work for my entire adult life, and now, at age 45, I've been worried that I'll never find the place where vocation and income intersect. Whyte puts my personal fears in their larger context of the deep relationship of work to the rest of our lives, as well as the necessity and the sometimes fearful risk of pursuing your true work.
Also: Whyte inspires me to write poetry. I'm not a poet, but whenever I listen to one of his lectures or read his non-fiction I find myself thinking in poetry. This morning during my commute I put down this book in order to write a work-related poem on the bus. Whyte has that kind of inspirational power.
I've been struggling with work for my entire adult life, and now, at age 45, I've been worried that I'll never find the place where vocation and income intersect. Whyte puts my personal fears in their larger context of the deep relationship of work to the rest of our lives, as well as the necessity and the sometimes fearful risk of pursuing your true work.
Also: Whyte inspires me to write poetry. I'm not a poet, but whenever I listen to one of his lectures or read his non-fiction I find myself thinking in poetry. This morning during my commute I put down this book in order to write a work-related poem on the bus. Whyte has that kind of inspirational power.
March 6, 2016
"In work as in life, we must contemplate the loss of everything in order to know what we have to give; it is the essence of writing, the essence of working, the essence of living; an essence that we look for by hazarding our best gifts in the world, and in that perspective, all of use are young and have the possibilities of the young until our last breath goes out."
"A life's work is not a series of stepping-stones onto which we calmly place our feet, but more like an ocean crossing where there is no path, only a heading, a direction, which, of itself, is in conversation with the elements. Looking back for a sense of reference, we see the wake we have left as only a brief, glimmering trace on the waters."
"We shape our work, and then, not surprisingly, we are shaped again by the work we have done."
This is just a taste of Whyte's beautiful, poetic writing on the relationship of work to our humanity. This book is unique in that it explores how work affects our identity as humans rather than the 8-5 mentality of so many pop-success business books. Highly recommended.
"A life's work is not a series of stepping-stones onto which we calmly place our feet, but more like an ocean crossing where there is no path, only a heading, a direction, which, of itself, is in conversation with the elements. Looking back for a sense of reference, we see the wake we have left as only a brief, glimmering trace on the waters."
"We shape our work, and then, not surprisingly, we are shaped again by the work we have done."
This is just a taste of Whyte's beautiful, poetic writing on the relationship of work to our humanity. This book is unique in that it explores how work affects our identity as humans rather than the 8-5 mentality of so many pop-success business books. Highly recommended.
November 1, 2019
I've found several bites of wisdom that did not leave me disappointed. But the book could have been much shorter. So far, Whyte's poetry seems to be better than his prose.
Better yet, anyone with basic poetic intuition could probably just read his poems and understand everything that needs to be understood.
Better yet, anyone with basic poetic intuition could probably just read his poems and understand everything that needs to be understood.
March 11, 2020
I wasn't prepared for the intensity of poetic imagery used in this book (although I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me.) It's gorgeous, if at times a little over done. The images and stories certainly stick in your head.
I also wasn't prepared for how _male_ this book is. Adrienne Rich is the one that popped David Whyte to the top of my 'to read' list, but he didn't seem to read and admire her in return. I mean, I get that a big portion of this book is his personal experiences, but he presents his white educated male experiences as universal and never examines his privileges. He has a network and an education to fall back on if his job change doesn't work out. When he says 'we', he means himself and a male reader. He talks about the joy of simple shared meals (not prepared by him) and coming home to children (who picked them up?). He talks about a "good waking" (*his* three year old goes right back to sleep. At least he acknowledged she existed? ) and I just wanted to laugh--clearly he wasn't up in the night for years on end. Yes, he gave examples with women in the workforce, but there's zero acknowledgment that "work as a pilgrimage of identity" might be different for a woman. Oh, but women and men generally unwind from work differently? I had this line from Mark Rothko Song running through my head through large portions of the book:
"Your behavior is so male.
It's like you can't explain yourself to me.
I think I'll ask Renoir to tea."
Still, I loved many of the images: the old sheep dog doing his job with minimal but precise movements, the awkward swan waddle to get to the graceful swim, Moses shedding the protection of his shoes and realizing the whole earth is holy. The energy that comes from doing something wholeheartedly (even when the anticipation of it makes you sick to your stomach.)
"The anecdote to exhaustion is *wholeheartedness*"
"Amidst the plethora of information clawing at us from the insistent radio in the morning to the irrelevant television of the evening, we search for the one word that will knit sense out of nonsense. The unknown is the dark basket into which we plunge our hands to bring out words that feed the hungry and clothe the poor--as good a definition of poetry as we might find."
I also wasn't prepared for how _male_ this book is. Adrienne Rich is the one that popped David Whyte to the top of my 'to read' list, but he didn't seem to read and admire her in return. I mean, I get that a big portion of this book is his personal experiences, but he presents his white educated male experiences as universal and never examines his privileges. He has a network and an education to fall back on if his job change doesn't work out. When he says 'we', he means himself and a male reader. He talks about the joy of simple shared meals (not prepared by him) and coming home to children (who picked them up?). He talks about a "good waking" (*his* three year old goes right back to sleep. At least he acknowledged she existed? ) and I just wanted to laugh--clearly he wasn't up in the night for years on end. Yes, he gave examples with women in the workforce, but there's zero acknowledgment that "work as a pilgrimage of identity" might be different for a woman. Oh, but women and men generally unwind from work differently? I had this line from Mark Rothko Song running through my head through large portions of the book:
"Your behavior is so male.
It's like you can't explain yourself to me.
I think I'll ask Renoir to tea."
Still, I loved many of the images: the old sheep dog doing his job with minimal but precise movements, the awkward swan waddle to get to the graceful swim, Moses shedding the protection of his shoes and realizing the whole earth is holy. The energy that comes from doing something wholeheartedly (even when the anticipation of it makes you sick to your stomach.)
"The anecdote to exhaustion is *wholeheartedness*"
"Amidst the plethora of information clawing at us from the insistent radio in the morning to the irrelevant television of the evening, we search for the one word that will knit sense out of nonsense. The unknown is the dark basket into which we plunge our hands to bring out words that feed the hungry and clothe the poor--as good a definition of poetry as we might find."
Read
May 14, 2016I must have underlined about half of the sentences in this book — so deep was my appreciation for what David Whyte has laid out for those of us, especially at midlife, who are beginning to ask more from our work and our lives. Highly recommended.
September 3, 2013
David Whyte is described as a "corporate poet", which fascinates me. Hats off to anyone who has figured out how to entice the corporate sector into funding their poetry! I struggled to know what to make of this book. At times it descends into superficial self-help territory, but at other times it reads like a classic spirituality text, drawing on the poetry and literature of the Western canon (and some Eastern poets) rather than any traditional sacred text. My own grounding in Christian theology makes it tempting for me to dismiss this as lacking the depth of a religious wisdom tradition, but I'm not sure that this is fair. Why shouldn't poetry and literature be a source for our reflections on life, identity, exile, belonging? Food for thought for me.
July 31, 2016
As I was reading this, I kept asking myself, Why am I reading this? I found very little of value in this treatise on work and certainly could see the author's "pilgrimage", which had very little relation to my own work life. I think that much of Whyte's premise of "good work" and "firm persuasion" represents a pretty privileged viewpoint. I slogged through to the end because this book is for an assignment.
July 18, 2014
Recommend to all the corporate and even just work world poets I know. I am on page 6 and feel like I'm flying, deep in poetry and prose and thinking of my whole life as a continuum.
May 22, 2023
very illuminating guide to the trickier aspects of aligning work with a sense of purpose in the world. conversations about personal relationships with time draw the reader back in after an upfront conflict with the self is unpacked. i enjoyed and believe i will reread in the future and gain something new each time.
July 15, 2024
A poetic exploration of the love and loss of work - this book helped me move through a particularly difficult work transition and gave me a new perspective with which to view my work and my relationship with it.
December 5, 2024
A beautifully written masterpiece about work and our identities, work has been made to be such an ugly word but it’s actually a magical way for your soul to express itself and contribute to the world. This book is perfect for the times you’re lost on your journey and you’re looking for a reminder of what you truly want.
January 28, 2009
This is not a book one can read in a sitting. Plan on reading and re-reading many times if you are serious about revisiting just why you are doing the work you are currently doing. Also plan on having a pen/pencil with you for underlining.
Here's one of my favorite quotes about endless work tasks:
"When doing is followed immediately by doing, it can seem impossible or indulgent to celebrate any accomplishment. One set of good figures can be replaced by another on the company ledgers and the bottomless hunger of Wall Street is still not appeased, the investors still unsatisfied, the media still on the hunt for faults and cracks. What has been done is simply replaced by a new thing to be done; the years fly by until that strange day when all the doing suddenly has to stop; in retirement, in illness, in bereavement, in death itself."
Here's one of my favorite quotes about endless work tasks:
"When doing is followed immediately by doing, it can seem impossible or indulgent to celebrate any accomplishment. One set of good figures can be replaced by another on the company ledgers and the bottomless hunger of Wall Street is still not appeased, the investors still unsatisfied, the media still on the hunt for faults and cracks. What has been done is simply replaced by a new thing to be done; the years fly by until that strange day when all the doing suddenly has to stop; in retirement, in illness, in bereavement, in death itself."
May 31, 2016
David Whyte spoke to me again with this book. I am by now quite a fan of his pace, his choice or words, his gently wondering and wise prose. It's not a career advice kind of book, but an invitation to soul searching and reflection. With some practical advice to make it seem less daunting. I read a library copy, but I feel the need to own my own copy. I can see myself picking it off the shelf, reading a couple of random pages and walking away with a most-welcome invitation to reflection.
August 25, 2019
A book best enjoyed slowly, in a quiet place where you can immerse yourself in it and let the language wash over you, one sentence at a time. It’s an homage to “good work” that makes us feel alive, a poetic perspective akin to “Shop craft as Soul Craft” or even “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” Whyte’s wonderful storytelling makes the book come alive, rending it more personal and yet also more accessible.
December 3, 2018
This was a beautiful, meditative read on work and vocation. Whyte is a poet and that certainly comes through in his prose as well. I appreciate the depth of insight that he offers about work, especially the metaphor of work being a "conversation with the elements as a part of a sea-crossing."
Whyte has given me much to consider for the years ahead in my work.
Whyte has given me much to consider for the years ahead in my work.
May 30, 2021
An insightful and comforting read for anyone unsure about what to do with their life. David Whyte weaves together poetry, observations, and practical wisdom to help you think deeper about how the work you do connects to your inner self, and how to develop a healthy relationship between the two. While certain parts may feel more applicable than others, the underlying themes of humanity and wholeheartedness are ones that everyone can benefit from spending some time thinking about.
July 4, 2018
Crossing The Unknown Sea, is a beautiful and intelligent book that needs be read slowly and savoured. A friend lent me her copy, and like other reviewers here I now want my own copy to re-read and highlight all the amazing quotes. It really spoke to me.
August 15, 2023
'To die inside, is to rob our outside life of any sense of arrival from that interior. Our work is to make ourselves visible in the world. This is the soul's individual journey, and the soul would much rather fail at its own life than succeed at someone else's.'
June 5, 2016
I recently discovered that I love talking about work: other people's work, my work, anybody's work. Do they like their work? Love it? Hate it? Why? Did they land there accidentally or achieve their position on purpose, with great strategy and striving? Did they always dream of becoming what they are? How do they spend their days? What is their next goal? I could talk to anyone for hours about this topic.
So it comes as no surprise that I loved this book. David Whyte marries the subject of finding and creating purpose through your life's work with his own work passion: poetry. And he does it masterfully. The book is a beautiful piece of poetic art. I would highly recommend this read for anyone: those just starting out on their journey into the working world to those who have been working a long time and wondering why they are not anywhere they thought they would be at this point. Whyte helps the reader through the introspective process that is so important for shaping the life's work we all desire.
Great quotes: "When the going gets tough, the tough do not get going; they disappear, only to reappear again, renewed and reimagined."
"It always helps if we can arrange our work so that we do not make our colleagues into an enemy force who are out to sap our strength and steal our precious time."
"The moment of truth for the balance of our life and our work: How we navigate and find safe harbor in our return to hearth and home speaks volumes about the way work is arranged in our imaginations."
So it comes as no surprise that I loved this book. David Whyte marries the subject of finding and creating purpose through your life's work with his own work passion: poetry. And he does it masterfully. The book is a beautiful piece of poetic art. I would highly recommend this read for anyone: those just starting out on their journey into the working world to those who have been working a long time and wondering why they are not anywhere they thought they would be at this point. Whyte helps the reader through the introspective process that is so important for shaping the life's work we all desire.
Great quotes: "When the going gets tough, the tough do not get going; they disappear, only to reappear again, renewed and reimagined."
"It always helps if we can arrange our work so that we do not make our colleagues into an enemy force who are out to sap our strength and steal our precious time."
"The moment of truth for the balance of our life and our work: How we navigate and find safe harbor in our return to hearth and home speaks volumes about the way work is arranged in our imaginations."
December 14, 2020
The first thing to say about Crossing the Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity is that it’s not actually about work. The second thing is, my God, what would it be, to be able to write as David Whyte does? Whyte’s lyricism infuses the pages with linguistic beauty that has to be experienced to be understood.
This book, you see, was supposed to be merely a distraction for me, an interlude between various histories of Southeast Asia, works of fiction by Vietnamese and Indonesian authors, tales – real and merely informed – of war and colonialism and regret. Work, in fact. Instead, and in no small part because of the prose, Crossing the Sea captivated me wholly and completely, slightly unnerving me in the process, for this book felt as though it could have been written for me, an admittedly absurd idea.
Against the backdrop of the Galapagos in the opening chapters and the Spanish steps at the end, with Seattle and Snowdonia nestled snuggly in the middle, Whyte works his wordsmith magic. He does so in describing his mother, she who crossed the Irish Sea at 15, against the wishes of her widowed father. Here, Whyte hones in on the “effervescent, temporary power of leave-taking and the powerlessness of those left behind” such that the reader can picture a bent man, raging against the world, as he plunges a knife deep into a chair, the only course of action left for him. Is it any wonder that her son perceives the mark this experience has left, unspoken though it may be? “She has never said it out loud; she has always lived it out loud.” (p. 109) The courage of the leave-taking, the courage of living life out loud: the determined and tenacious teen smoothed and strengthened over time as seaglass tumbled by waves.
Whyte similarly conjures imagery from ink when he reflects on the fortune that befalls those who know beyond a superficial level how to make a life of meaning, writing that this notion of purpose “is silver, gold, the moon, and the stars to those who struggle for the merest glimmer of what they want or what they are suited to.” Before I’d fully digested his meaning, I was transported, fairy-like, to twirl in the moonlight beneath ribbons of metallic light.
In pondering the essence of a life well lived, Whyte writes “death’s tide washes over everything we have taken so long to write in the sand.” (p. 178) Life: ephemeral; time: ever slippery, and the chief mistress of Crossing the Sea. I’ll say no more of her than that to read “speed is a sin…glu[ing] us into whatever immobile, unattending identity we have constructed” (p. 121) was to be hit in the solar plexus, so uncanny was the resonance with my own personal reckonings.
Though they make their homes in different genres, the parallels between Whyte’s philosophies and those of Alan Watts or Pema Chödrön are many and remarkable. Only the choice of words separates their notions of self-determination powered by the twin undercurrents of joy and gratitude and necessity of remaining wholly in the moment. Whyte’s observation that there are “powers at play in the world about which [we] know very little” could just as easily have come from either Chödrön or Watts.
Like Chödrön, Whyte writes of edges galore, while it’s in the notion of unmaking a life where Watts’ and Whyte’s thoughts are twinned. Where Watts presents the idea of embroidery representing exterior and interior life – beautiful on the front and messy threads hidden beneath – Whyte merely observes that “in order to stay alive, we have to unmake a living in order to get back to living the life we wanted for ourselves” (p. 77). Where Watts stops, Whyte pushes on, asking: for what is desire? The origin of the word, the reader learns, is the old Latin root, de sider, or of the stars. “To have a desire in life literally means to keep your star in sight, to follow a glimmer, a beacon, a disappearing will-o’-the-wisp over the horizon into someplace you cannot yet fully imagine” (p. 78). Here again my mind takes flight, slipping the surly bonds of earth of follow Whyte’s glimmer, whatever it may illuminate.
Lest I appear to slander the title, I’ll slip in that it’s not wholly true to say work does not feature. After all, in speaking of dignity and personal honor, Whyte admonishes his reader of “certain things we should not do, certain people we should not work for, lines we should not cross…money we should not earn…” (p. 90). In the event the deed is done? “We must speak out, take the wheel, call the rest of the crew ourselves, or, if all of these avenues are blocked, abandon ship, resign, and go elsewhere” (p. 47). Of the workplace itself, Whyte notes presciently of “multi-ethnic, eccentric, and slightly chaotic organizations” that will be both infinitely more ungovernable and adaptable than the reader of 2001 could imagine. Check, check, and check.
Only once does Crossing the Sea begin to drag a bit; ironically, it’s as Whyte describes his transition to full-time poet that his writing reaches a low ebb. It is in returning, in thought though not in person, to the Galapagos that he recovers, for in reading “There is no mercy in this world if at least once in our lives we do not feel the privilege of being wanted where we also want to be wanted” (p. 195) is one not quickened?
Frequently as I read, I wondered if I needn’t ruminate on Whyte’s words or his meaning so deeply, if I might perhaps be better served merely to luxuriate in the wash of his lush prose over me. Whyte’s own words put paid to such a notion. Writing of Margaret Thatcher, he observes that whatever else she may have been she was only and always “unutterably herself,” thus persuading me that my own nature could not, or at least should not, be so easily countermanded. When Whyte doubled down a few chapters later writing “one of the distinguishing features of any courageous human being is the ability to remain unutterably themselves…” (p. 165), I was glad for my insight though admittedly unsure that I qualify for such lofty esteem. The sentiment, though, well the sentiment is something for which we all might strive.
This book, you see, was supposed to be merely a distraction for me, an interlude between various histories of Southeast Asia, works of fiction by Vietnamese and Indonesian authors, tales – real and merely informed – of war and colonialism and regret. Work, in fact. Instead, and in no small part because of the prose, Crossing the Sea captivated me wholly and completely, slightly unnerving me in the process, for this book felt as though it could have been written for me, an admittedly absurd idea.
Against the backdrop of the Galapagos in the opening chapters and the Spanish steps at the end, with Seattle and Snowdonia nestled snuggly in the middle, Whyte works his wordsmith magic. He does so in describing his mother, she who crossed the Irish Sea at 15, against the wishes of her widowed father. Here, Whyte hones in on the “effervescent, temporary power of leave-taking and the powerlessness of those left behind” such that the reader can picture a bent man, raging against the world, as he plunges a knife deep into a chair, the only course of action left for him. Is it any wonder that her son perceives the mark this experience has left, unspoken though it may be? “She has never said it out loud; she has always lived it out loud.” (p. 109) The courage of the leave-taking, the courage of living life out loud: the determined and tenacious teen smoothed and strengthened over time as seaglass tumbled by waves.
Whyte similarly conjures imagery from ink when he reflects on the fortune that befalls those who know beyond a superficial level how to make a life of meaning, writing that this notion of purpose “is silver, gold, the moon, and the stars to those who struggle for the merest glimmer of what they want or what they are suited to.” Before I’d fully digested his meaning, I was transported, fairy-like, to twirl in the moonlight beneath ribbons of metallic light.
In pondering the essence of a life well lived, Whyte writes “death’s tide washes over everything we have taken so long to write in the sand.” (p. 178) Life: ephemeral; time: ever slippery, and the chief mistress of Crossing the Sea. I’ll say no more of her than that to read “speed is a sin…glu[ing] us into whatever immobile, unattending identity we have constructed” (p. 121) was to be hit in the solar plexus, so uncanny was the resonance with my own personal reckonings.
Though they make their homes in different genres, the parallels between Whyte’s philosophies and those of Alan Watts or Pema Chödrön are many and remarkable. Only the choice of words separates their notions of self-determination powered by the twin undercurrents of joy and gratitude and necessity of remaining wholly in the moment. Whyte’s observation that there are “powers at play in the world about which [we] know very little” could just as easily have come from either Chödrön or Watts.
Like Chödrön, Whyte writes of edges galore, while it’s in the notion of unmaking a life where Watts’ and Whyte’s thoughts are twinned. Where Watts presents the idea of embroidery representing exterior and interior life – beautiful on the front and messy threads hidden beneath – Whyte merely observes that “in order to stay alive, we have to unmake a living in order to get back to living the life we wanted for ourselves” (p. 77). Where Watts stops, Whyte pushes on, asking: for what is desire? The origin of the word, the reader learns, is the old Latin root, de sider, or of the stars. “To have a desire in life literally means to keep your star in sight, to follow a glimmer, a beacon, a disappearing will-o’-the-wisp over the horizon into someplace you cannot yet fully imagine” (p. 78). Here again my mind takes flight, slipping the surly bonds of earth of follow Whyte’s glimmer, whatever it may illuminate.
Lest I appear to slander the title, I’ll slip in that it’s not wholly true to say work does not feature. After all, in speaking of dignity and personal honor, Whyte admonishes his reader of “certain things we should not do, certain people we should not work for, lines we should not cross…money we should not earn…” (p. 90). In the event the deed is done? “We must speak out, take the wheel, call the rest of the crew ourselves, or, if all of these avenues are blocked, abandon ship, resign, and go elsewhere” (p. 47). Of the workplace itself, Whyte notes presciently of “multi-ethnic, eccentric, and slightly chaotic organizations” that will be both infinitely more ungovernable and adaptable than the reader of 2001 could imagine. Check, check, and check.
Only once does Crossing the Sea begin to drag a bit; ironically, it’s as Whyte describes his transition to full-time poet that his writing reaches a low ebb. It is in returning, in thought though not in person, to the Galapagos that he recovers, for in reading “There is no mercy in this world if at least once in our lives we do not feel the privilege of being wanted where we also want to be wanted” (p. 195) is one not quickened?
Frequently as I read, I wondered if I needn’t ruminate on Whyte’s words or his meaning so deeply, if I might perhaps be better served merely to luxuriate in the wash of his lush prose over me. Whyte’s own words put paid to such a notion. Writing of Margaret Thatcher, he observes that whatever else she may have been she was only and always “unutterably herself,” thus persuading me that my own nature could not, or at least should not, be so easily countermanded. When Whyte doubled down a few chapters later writing “one of the distinguishing features of any courageous human being is the ability to remain unutterably themselves…” (p. 165), I was glad for my insight though admittedly unsure that I qualify for such lofty esteem. The sentiment, though, well the sentiment is something for which we all might strive.
November 18, 2011
Not necessarily groundbreaking, but there are some wonderful ideas about work and life related rather succinctly and poetically. That it's all a balance of not only providing for one's family, but also playing one's part in the machines of business -- and neither of these mean handing over your soul. Whyte stresses the importance of creating something meaningful out of your work life. He's big on putting everything you are into your work, being the work -- which makes sense for someone in my line of work. Not so much for people in less-than-deal work situations. A lot of it is very Buddhist, though: be present in what you do.
January 10, 2019
Useful in light of all the burnout conversations recently. NOT a structural take on navigating the world of work (still gotta seize the means of production, etc.) but lots of advice in here on separating ourselves from our work, staying true to our values, acknowledging work and leadership not as individual pursuits but a product of the collective - something I find most self-help books are woefully terrible at.
For those of us privileged to consider making a living out of what we love, this is a good meditation on how to pursue that without losing sight of what’s important.
For those of us privileged to consider making a living out of what we love, this is a good meditation on how to pursue that without losing sight of what’s important.
January 23, 2010
This book is the sane response to things like "The Law of Attraction." David Whyte says that the larger forces of nature don't give a damn about your career agenda. It is our responsibility to put ourselves up to the edge of what's not controlled by us and allow that interaction, not our propped-up self esteem, to form our identities.
March 27, 2013
This book is simply great. My only caveat is that you need to let this book find you. You'll know when it is the time to read it. If you start, and it instantly doesn't grab you. Don't force it. Put it down! And try again later - you will get pulled in immediately if you are meant to read this book at that point in time.
January 30, 2017
I wanted so much to love this book -- the topic, the fact that the writer is a poet, even the title I love so much -- but I found myself re-reading the same passages over and over trying to get the cadence right.
July 7, 2016
Couldn't finish it. It was a LOT of stories that were not ....interesting. Maybe I'll try again another day.
April 29, 2023
This is the second time I have read this wonderful book. I first heard of it through a chance encounter, from the guy next to me on a Southwest flight so long ago that I don’t remember its origin or its destination. But, as sometimes happens, we talked, and in that conversation, we touched on issues of work, and vocation. And he mentioned this book, recommending it for its insights into the challenges of work, and its relationship to identity. For some reason, I made a note of the title and the author. I may even have looked up the book on Amazon or some such place. But I didn't put my hands on it--not right away. It was always one of those books that I intended to get to “someday . . . maybe.”
I read it years later, and regretted that it took me so long. It is marvelous, filled with poetic insight into the mind and the heart, and how we relate (or fail to relate) to the world. The first time I read it, I couldn’t decide whether to blast through it in a session or two, or to read it slowly and carefully, taking notes along the way. I opted for the former course, but I liked the book so much that I bought a copy of my own (my first read through was from a library copy). I expected to come back to it, and finally did. It did not disappoint.
Two themes: attention and memory. Whyte argues that we need to pay more attention to what and who we are, and to where we are (necessary preludes to developing a sense of what he calls “captaincy”). And he also argues for the cultivation of memory, of a recall of what we paid attention to as children and as youths for clues as to where our true interests lie. Essentially, he argues that, as we get older, as we conform to the pressures of society, or the expectations of our families, or as we succumb to our own fears and doubts (or just plain laziness), we forget who we are. But there are ways to recover (or perhaps uncover) that self. For Whyte, the remedies include nature, and place; but also human creations, among them anecdote, poetry, fiction, and myth.
This is not a “how to” book, or a “self-help” manual. It is instead an argument for the proposition that, if we feel displaced in our work, it may be because we are displaced at a more fundamental level. And there are ways to recover our place.
One measure of any non-fiction book ought to be this: What does it prompt me to look at next? “Crossing the Unknown Sea” succeeds because it has prompted me to add the following to my reading list
• T.S. Eliot
• George Eliot
• Stephen Spender
• William Wordsworth
• Campbell, Joseph
• John Keats
. . . and many more. As always, there is a world of good reading ahead. This book helps map out the possibilities.
One final comment: I long thought that I had no ear for, or real appreciation of poetry. Whyte deploys poetry throughout “Crossing,” which is not surprising, since he is a poet (and I think he would call himself a poet first). In reading this book, I found, perhaps for the first time, a glimmering of what poetry is actually for, and how it works.
(Perhaps the teaching of poetry should be reserved to poets; and kept from the clutches of the education establishment and academicians).
I read it years later, and regretted that it took me so long. It is marvelous, filled with poetic insight into the mind and the heart, and how we relate (or fail to relate) to the world. The first time I read it, I couldn’t decide whether to blast through it in a session or two, or to read it slowly and carefully, taking notes along the way. I opted for the former course, but I liked the book so much that I bought a copy of my own (my first read through was from a library copy). I expected to come back to it, and finally did. It did not disappoint.
Two themes: attention and memory. Whyte argues that we need to pay more attention to what and who we are, and to where we are (necessary preludes to developing a sense of what he calls “captaincy”). And he also argues for the cultivation of memory, of a recall of what we paid attention to as children and as youths for clues as to where our true interests lie. Essentially, he argues that, as we get older, as we conform to the pressures of society, or the expectations of our families, or as we succumb to our own fears and doubts (or just plain laziness), we forget who we are. But there are ways to recover (or perhaps uncover) that self. For Whyte, the remedies include nature, and place; but also human creations, among them anecdote, poetry, fiction, and myth.
This is not a “how to” book, or a “self-help” manual. It is instead an argument for the proposition that, if we feel displaced in our work, it may be because we are displaced at a more fundamental level. And there are ways to recover our place.
One measure of any non-fiction book ought to be this: What does it prompt me to look at next? “Crossing the Unknown Sea” succeeds because it has prompted me to add the following to my reading list
• T.S. Eliot
• George Eliot
• Stephen Spender
• William Wordsworth
• Campbell, Joseph
• John Keats
. . . and many more. As always, there is a world of good reading ahead. This book helps map out the possibilities.
One final comment: I long thought that I had no ear for, or real appreciation of poetry. Whyte deploys poetry throughout “Crossing,” which is not surprising, since he is a poet (and I think he would call himself a poet first). In reading this book, I found, perhaps for the first time, a glimmering of what poetry is actually for, and how it works.
(Perhaps the teaching of poetry should be reserved to poets; and kept from the clutches of the education establishment and academicians).
July 19, 2018
This thought-provoking book about work (as in, meaningful life work) and identity resonated deeply with me in my current life stage. David Whyte writes with a beautiful, lyrical style that can only come from a poet who is used to paying close attention to words. He incorporates story-telling (from his own life and others), poetry (his own and others), and musings to draw a painting of what work ultimately means to us human beings trying to live out our full potential. There were so many quotable passages that I couldn't possibly capture them all (at times, it felt like the entire book was quotable), but here are a couple that particularly grabbed me:
My only minor criticism is that the last chapter felt a bit out of place, as he delved into musing about the youth of today and the future of organizations and companies. Most of the rest of the book was not so speculative nor so focused on the corporate world, but more observational of the nature of meaningful work. I felt that he idealized the potential of youth and tomorrow in a way that did not resonate with me. However, there were still meaningful passages even in that last chapter, and overall I found it to be a thoughtful book. I imagine this is a book I will want to reread at some point.
Our competence may be at stake in ordinary, unthinking work, but in good work that is a heartfelt expression of ourselves, we necessarily put our very identities to hazard. Perhaps it is because we know, in the end, we are our gift to others and the world.
Though we profess to love nature, we like it packaged according to our human desires. We do not look too hard at the world for fear of what we will find there.
[Spoken by his friend, Brother David, a monk] "The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness"
My only minor criticism is that the last chapter felt a bit out of place, as he delved into musing about the youth of today and the future of organizations and companies. Most of the rest of the book was not so speculative nor so focused on the corporate world, but more observational of the nature of meaningful work. I felt that he idealized the potential of youth and tomorrow in a way that did not resonate with me. However, there were still meaningful passages even in that last chapter, and overall I found it to be a thoughtful book. I imagine this is a book I will want to reread at some point.
November 29, 2023
My therapist suggested this book as part of my journey to evaluate what I want from my career. Crossing the Unknown Sea is written by a poet and though it's not a book of poetry, it definitely has a poetic flare that makes it exhausting at times for someone who is searching for practical advice in finding their true passion. This is not a book with practical advice on finding your passion; instead, it's a book that poetically follows David Whyte's path to discovering his calling, rich with metaphor. There are some beautiful phrases that left me wishing I could highlight them in my Kindle, but I was sadly working from a library copy and resorted to photographing paragraphs with my phone (why isn't a Kindle edition available)?
Each major section of the book more or less discusses some aspect of work, whether it's tapping into the passions of our youth for inspiration, remembering that speed does not equal good work, to warnings that work can build a wall around us that isolate us from our personal lives. It feels to me that this book is actually more relevant to overworked high-powered executives than job seekers; there's a heavy focus on warning how work can affect your personal life (and vice-versa) and commentary on the shifting culture of work (which is interesting to read in a book written 20+ years earlier).
Overall, an interesting metaphorical and poetic journey into the various ways work touches our lives, but this is not a book of practical advice for those searching for their passion—though reading about his own journey could serve as a source of inspiration leaving the reader saying, "I wish this could happen to me."
Each major section of the book more or less discusses some aspect of work, whether it's tapping into the passions of our youth for inspiration, remembering that speed does not equal good work, to warnings that work can build a wall around us that isolate us from our personal lives. It feels to me that this book is actually more relevant to overworked high-powered executives than job seekers; there's a heavy focus on warning how work can affect your personal life (and vice-versa) and commentary on the shifting culture of work (which is interesting to read in a book written 20+ years earlier).
Overall, an interesting metaphorical and poetic journey into the various ways work touches our lives, but this is not a book of practical advice for those searching for their passion—though reading about his own journey could serve as a source of inspiration leaving the reader saying, "I wish this could happen to me."
June 2, 2017
Whyte has a unique way of exploring the depths of work and why our wellness depends on it. It began a bit slow with personal stories and finished more strongly with a broader view of life, death and everything in between.
Expect a variety of thought provoking quotes featured throughout, both original from Whyte, and borrowed from others like Rilke.
Some of the concepts I appreciated:
- there's 'temporary power in leave taking and a more overt powerlessness of those left behind'
- the beauty in the foreground, spaces, silence and quiet moments
"I am the rest between the two notes, which are always in discord because Death' note wants to climb over- but in the dark interval, reconciled, they stay there trembling, and the song goes on, beautiful." - Rilke
- "the poems flow from the hand unbidden and the hidden source is the watchful heart." - Mahon
- sleep as a metaphor for innocence and death; attaining the comfort to share the experience of sleep with someone as the most intimate act possible
Expect a variety of thought provoking quotes featured throughout, both original from Whyte, and borrowed from others like Rilke.
Some of the concepts I appreciated:
- there's 'temporary power in leave taking and a more overt powerlessness of those left behind'
- the beauty in the foreground, spaces, silence and quiet moments
"I am the rest between the two notes, which are always in discord because Death' note wants to climb over- but in the dark interval, reconciled, they stay there trembling, and the song goes on, beautiful." - Rilke
- "the poems flow from the hand unbidden and the hidden source is the watchful heart." - Mahon
- sleep as a metaphor for innocence and death; attaining the comfort to share the experience of sleep with someone as the most intimate act possible
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