Nie chce byc malym szarym czlowiekiem.

The spoiler translation is:

‘I don’t want to be a small gray man.’

According to the NYT, it’s a common Polish expression. Beyond the translating, the meaning is pretty clear. No one wants to end up little and gray. For a long time in Poland, the totalitarian state that remote-controlled the population was very intent on turning out little gray citizens, even among the young.

The story at the link is about a man named Aleksander Doba, who fought back against that, ultimately by kayaking across the Atlantic at the age of seventy, rejoicing in our human talent for suffering, along the way.

(The version I came across first was audio, via NYT’s The Daily Podcast, with a release date of 3 May 20.)

Under the thumb of the megrims, I have been quite small and gray these days past. Even my resistance methodology has been tiny and colorless–heavy doses of mild over-the-counter painkiller, and marathons of sleep.

Through it all I managed one heroic thing, and that was to stay on track here spilling, in addition to a fair amount of other, unpublishable writing.

It’s no Atlanic kayak trip I admit, but I really sort of love those last few posts.

I’m thinking that Doba’s solution is an alternative path to the end goal of dying free and living free until then. Stop pursuing comfort, go be hideously uncomfortable, and epic in the process.

Nonetheless, (his wife) Gabriela was not prepared for Doba’s first trans-Atlantic expedition. He had been taking long trips for decades, but he always slept on land. So, Gabriela told me, she laid out for her husband all the reasons trans-Atlantic kayaking was stupid. She threatened divorce. “If you have a crisis in the middle of the Atlantic and the closest land is the bottom,” she asked, “what will you do then?” Doba said, “There will be no such crisis.”

Thoughts on an anniversary.

Tomorrow I ascend up that mountain again, on a related note.

Wish me strength, in keeping this keyboarded streak going, while I kayak in the waters of bliss.