LITTERARIA: Pawel Jedrzejko's Academic Home Page

One of the most serious passions of my life is sailing; the experiences of the sea may largely be held responsible for how I live, what I think, what I write and how I sing. Indeed, I am an old sea-salt who has skippered a number of cruises in the northern hemisphere. In spite of the fact that for some time I had been professionally involved with sailing, however, I have never lost the sense that the beauty of sailing lies in its magnetic capacity to soothe minds and not in the money it offers.

While sailing, inevitably, one is exposed to a limited range of stimuli: colors, sounds, people, the yacht - all generate far fewer interpretable objects than does the everyday experience of life in a large industrial city. It is shocking how soon one appreciates the clarity of mind, miraculously healed by the absence of colorful signs, television, computers, adverts, flowing masses of people, minor stresses inherent in everyday interactions with shop assistants, office clerks, bosses and employees alike. When under sail, there is no rush: one reaches the adopted point of destination when - and if - the sea and weather permit. The gentle swell of the ocean offers you a natural stepper practice; after a while you no longer realize that all parts of your body constantly work to keep you stable on the deck of the rocking, pitching and rolling boat.

Within a week of regular watches, regular meals, regular experiences of sunrise and sunset, your mind clears and your body recuperates from all the effects of long-lasting abuse you yourself had been serving it before you went sailing. And yet, make no mistake: the sea does not allow lack of mindfulness. It punishes instances thereof cruelly: when it shows its anger, it will not allow one to mistake it for a more spectacular roller-coaster, or a gym for the tough to work out. It will, however, demonstrate its inhuman quality, thus undermining all hereto made attempts to humanize or personify it. In the uncooperative, unhearing, liquid context, you have to be able to see all and foresee as much as you can. The unforeseen requires quick decisions and courage; if you fail to foresee enough, your choices, no matter how quick, may not suffice to save you.

In a gale, the swell reaches five meters and over. Then, when you are a deckhand, you learn to master your fear by looking to the watchmates, who will take the splashes without even getting their cigarettes wet; when you are a mate, you overcome your anxiety by looking to the master, who will tell jokes against the howl and will take over the wheel with a smile to let you have a cup of coffee with him. When you are a master...