Today was mostly about surfing, though it didn't begin that way. I thought I was going to work, but being that I woke up in Santa Monica and my work was an hour and a half up the coast, well...you can't really blame a guy for "living a little for today" once in a while--right? Allot of my days recently have been about surfing actually. Allot of my dreams at night too. I dreamed of tidal waves twice in the past few months. I recall one being exceptionally beautiful in its rise on the horizon, moving toward shore faster than any jet, and colored an incredibly light green-blue that seemed too inviting. It came up unexpectedly, and the crowded line-up was a thick mass of sudden chaos. My vantage point was from above, from the edge of a high cliff. I remember as the wave loomed high over the shoreline, lurching up, up , up and seeing only the few guys who got up in time and how they skittered off in speedy lines directly in to the beach, while most of the ant-like others were swallowed up and spit out or digested. Mostly I just remember the feeling that it was part of the plan, and nobody was really going down in a bad way. There was nothing to worry about. After all, they were surfing. I used to imagine that was how I would die. I don't really want to go out early, but that wouldn't be a bad way to ride out i guess...
Yesterday i caught some fun rides at County Line where the conditions: clean waist to head high lefts and rights, no wind and few surfers at the point--were ideal. But today I passed it up to get to the all-too-accessible point break in Ventura. I was really tempted to surf Leo Carrillo State Beach along the way, but after seeing too many "too aggro" surf enthusiasts getting too few waves to themselves and mostly really short, spastic 'rides', I got back in my chair and back on the pacific coastal highway. In the drive as in life, I really just want to enjoy the ride. And not to tell you or anyone about it around the fire or at some cubicle-clustered-corporate-headquarter water tank. It isn't about getting the photo in a magazine or the trophy, or any of that shit. You know? I know that in the end, it's about the feelings. I feel good when I enjoy the ride, and let the fray go on without my 2 cents. I love to go out there and find peace of mind, and once in a while I catch a wave that surprises and stokes me, and that's it. that's all I need to go back to the grind and feel good about life, and wherever I stand in it. Surfing is as free as it gets. I like to think it will stay free. Just a board, the ocean's cooperation, and some surf wax--and I feel like a kid at the carnival again. It's been a good therapy for about every stress I can think of.
I went for the past several years dealing with ear issues though, and I let it keep my out of the water. The cold water winters back east and a straange foxtail incident (i won't go into just now) have really messed with my ability to tolerate wind and cold water in my ears, so I stopped surfing almost completely for a few busy/stoke-lacking years. My ears bug me now actually as I write, but so do allot of other things i cannot control, so.....
About six months ago I met Clare, my endlessly amusing and amazing muse. This dear woman I love came into my life like magic and jump-started an old artery somewhere deep inside of me, and I realized my second childhood has finally arrived. And so, within a month of meeting her, and with her encouragement, I got a new board. Well, it's new to me anyway. This board, passed on to me by its shaper, John Baum of Venice, CA, was originally shaped for his wife as a gift. There is a poem along the stringer in Hawaiian, and there are red footprints and a few of his hand prints across the deck to amuse and guide the rider in three surfing modes: "stand here for tube ride", "stand here for trim" and "stand here for bone-shattering wipeout!" I saw the board and laughed. I love the fact that it is so not-attempting-to-be "cool". It is a good fun shape, mellow nose and mid-sized. It is just what I've needed. Short, "knifey" performance thrusters are what I always looked for and rode before, and I was frustrated often in the water when conditions weren't just right for them. I took surfing too seriously. So I really liked this board, and its creator, John. Apparently, John's pretty much a legend there, by local accounts, whose friendly eyes gleamed with a reassuring stoke, even though he is going through a really rough transition. John went into the back story a bit for me before it became mine. It was a birthday gift for his wife, and it had traveled halfway around the world and been well-loved. But, a few years ago, his wife got cancer, and battled it for a few years. She passed from this life just a year ago. He felt that it was finally time to let the board go, and to get on with his life without it there to remind him of something can no longer be. I feel deeply moved knowing he allowed me to have this board, and privileged to own and to surf with it. It makes me smile inside every time just to see it. Thanks John Baum. If you ever get to Venice and want to meet a true soul surfer with great presence, look him up, or just ask a stoked surfer--they will likely be able to at least tell you a great story or two about him. It happened to me a few weeks after I inherited the board, while I was in a hospital waiting room. It is an amazing feeling to just watch the waves from inside or on the beach sometimes, with the appreciation that I can have this great freedom to play and connect with the earth on such a personal wavelength, without spending money or having to schedule or plan my visit. And to paddle out into that great green-blue body of life filled beyond our comprehension with animals and plants and free energy, whenever I want or feel the need to seems so surreal right now. Living in water from the time of conception onward until our actual birth, with the rhythms of heartbeat and breath, we aren't so far from our original environment out there. Ok, there IS a resined and fiberglassed polystyrene foam board under me and a skin of polypropylene tightly zipped over 90% of my body, and I am slathered in a "50 spf sunblock" concoction beyond that, but...the feelings and sounds inside of a waves vacuum-like slurping in the magic moment before sealing me in (or someday maybe actually spitting me out), I have to believe are pretty much primordial and prenatal in essence too. The "Green Womb". The tide was at its highest and a sieging of wayward wind blew out and closed out allot of otherwise fun waist- to-chest-high peelers as the sun sank into a thickening grey-blue marine layer. I was reminded again today how people so different in styles and personalities can find camaraderie and common ground, or water, when it comes to this unique pass-time. I stood nearly freezing tonight, long, long after sunset, with these two hulking characters, Sean and Robert, and then eventually a talented surfing seashell jeweler/artist named Donna who transplanted from Santa Cruz to C street, where we all stood in a circle of four--just laughing, sharing and taking in all kinds of info. on you-name-it. To look at these guys I would never have guessed it could become new connections and the time it was, in the scene that it was. Sean seemed like he could take you out pretty quick if he had to--or if you dropped in on him more than once in a session. He seemed like maybe a linebacker-wrestler-turned-lumberjack. He was actually involved in high-tech design sales to our military, and a proud and committed father of three, as well as seasoned surfer, environmentalist and hardcore East Cliff local up in S.C. He also had a hell of a case of poison oak all over his arms from weed-whacking mass amounts of the bastard plant life to clear a trail to the surf a few weeks prior, which made him look even gnarlier. He really isn't the kind of guy you walk up to if he isn't smiling at you first, but I did, for some reason, and I was stoked for that decision. He was someone worth taking time to meet for sure. If I ever ge up to S.C. again, I will look for him in the line up. I will be sure not to drop in on his waves though... hahaha... Robert, his friend, looked more like an inland investment broker with a Gold's Gym membership, and was mostly quiet and just learning to surf, so he did allot of listening. Another nice guy though, who seemed genuine and reliable if you needed financial advice. I forgot what he actually did for work. Then there was Donna, who began and owns the "now international" Betty Belts apparel company, with a storefront of great fashion and gift ideas, and surf photography by her mate Dave... and me--well, you know, regular old goofy surf/skater, house painter/modern day shape-shifter... but I have no idea what pigeon hole I fit into visually speaking. It just depends on the day really. So we talked for an hour+ past sunset, realizing common homes, friends, attitudes and we kept half-joking about going back out to surf now since the moon was so high and the tide getting so low. The lines had noticeably increased in size and the lefts were getting cleaner and cleaner, which was really doing it for me. But, poor Donna was freezing (she had been out in a short John with no sleeves at all) and dinner was calling us all too, and so we peaced-out and I went to a local taco hall for my fav. standby chili relleno burrito. Good stuff...worth the heart burn every time. I didn't work at all today, and I felt pretty bad about it for most of the morning into the afternoon. But after surfing and shooting the shit with some friendly surfers--everything seems just as it should be...in fact, even better than that! Thank God for the waves free energy and for bringing good people together... I hope I never get too old for surfing. I am so grateful to be out there with the dolphins and seals and unique people who paddle out to ride waves, instead of just watching for the world's end on the evening, as fools bomb the faux foes for 500 billion dollars worth of bullshit control of the precious oil stock and worry about their junk bonds all day long. The bonds I've made in the surf have been free, priceless, high-yield and I wouldn't trade 'em or my freedom for anything.
Tomorrow should be bigger, and the next even bigger still. Dawn patrol is on the itinerary. We will see if my arms still want to work after that. Best get to bed. I hope for more dreams of big waves tonight.
Surf's up...ummm hmmm...ummm hmmm.... Board a tidal wave...
~S
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