Monday, March 9, 2009
To be a surfer...
The present moment is a gift.
For the 25th of December I received a worthy surf film. The echoes of stoked surfers' hoots reverberated from the southern hemisphere to my living room. The sea waves were ridden by those worthy of being called surfers as opposed to people who happen to surf. A story of brutal grief transformed through the meditative, restoring life of wave riding. The old soul of the filmmaker mixes with the youthful physicality of his subject. Striking. Beautiful. Honest.
Last night I slipped away to receive a gift. I parked just east of a classic, summertime, low-tide, barreling reef. The film began and I was in a classic, all season, vision of surfing perfection-immersed. Visions of lined up logging waves, fishy-heaven point waves were served. Kegs of machined Indonesian how-deep-can-she get waves, anyman's weekend waves were served. All of them feasts. Boards and non-boards of all types ridden with an evident hand of skill and the bluff of ease were inspirational. From the artist comes art.
To be a surfer in the present moment is a gift. We are more free than ever. We are more able to eschew the branding of surfing and embrace the true community of surfing. More capable of being humbled by unfamiliar surfcraft. We are closer to the purity of sand in the shorts, sun on the back, "did you see that?" days. Rules are for competitions, uniforms for institutions. Believe me- we, us surfers, do not need rules and uniforms. We need the sheer joy of surfing found in the present moment.