My big green kayak has slipped from its perch. It lies there on its side, looking every bit the forlorn, neglected dream that it is. I was going to travel to Baja and paddle off into the sunset, never to return. That was a few years ago, and plans have changed.
I have to get realistic about where I am in life, and where I am is old, weak, and ugly. Just a fact. No judgment, remorse, or self pity.
So the kayak is going to stay here, most likely, for the rest of its natural life, the rest of my natural life.
If that is the case, what is it that I am going to do with the days I have left? The answer to that is more about inside work than outside, visible, material doing.
I want to become the crazy old man who lives the life impractical. I want to lean into getting old, feeble, senile, and free of inhibitions, to live the life that I feel will be my best life: more art, more music, more honesty, more generosity, more emotion. I'll probably cry a lot more.
So, there you have it -- my plan in a nutshell.
Time to go prop that kayak up, give it some dignity in its old age.
