Foam ride. Photo: Nicole Boramanand
“I will know that there will always be another wave… ” – Shaun Tomson
I love the ocean – its rhythms, sounds, colors, smells (most of them, at least). Few environments are more centering than the beach at sunrise or just after the sun goes down, when a painted sky is reflected in the water and its receding tideline. Most often, the only folks out that early are surfers, who will almost always pause between waves to absorb the moment. I can’t tell you how many versions of this I’ve captured; it’s a scene of which I never tire.
I can’t yet say that I am a surfer. In my photography, I have always assumed the calm, the peaceful zen, a unified appreciation of the environment, the “stoke,” and the surfer’s sense of community. My interpretation has been that of an admiring observer – a singular perspective, always from the shore. Three weeks ago, after thousands of photographs, I finally took my one-hour beginner lesson.
In his essay, “Surfer’s Code: 12 Simple Lessons for Riding Through Life,” Shaun Tomson takes basic mantras of surfing and applies them as broader life philosophies or guideposts. As a pre-novice, I may only aspire to absorb (and understand) each of those mantras one day. That said, during my own spiritual experience of being tossed around under crashing waves, squealing with mixed anticipation and fear, and snorting copious amounts of sea water, I considered a few applied life lessons of my own*:
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Go for it. This is not just about catching the wave. For the beginner, the journey starts when you set your mind to do The Thing – the combined process of intention, mental preparation & negotiation, and follow-through. Take all of the imagined reasons to not do something, and turn them on their heads. The water is not as cold as you believe, you can fall and emerge without permanent injury, and you are not the only one over 40 in a neon training rash guard. Revel in the fact that learning at 40 still leaves a good 20+ years of stoke if that’s what you want.
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Take your time. Take a moment or two and imagine what you want to do. Envision yourself standing up and, most importantly, believe that you can. Break it up into small steps: Make sure you’re on the board. Don’t let your feet hang off the end.
Paddle.
Paddle. Paddle. Paddle.
Wait for it. Paddle more. Feel the push. Hands close to your chest. Push up. Right foot forward. Lunge. Stand up. Stay low.
Look Forward.
Ride. -
But don’t hesitate too long. Don’t overthink it and, most of all, don’t be afraid to fall. You can go to your knees, but that’s where you’ll stay. And if you wait on your hands, your wave will finish that way … always remember Lesson 1.
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Stay centered. The center stringer gives the board its strength – center your mass along this line, and find your Balance. Tilt too much to the left or right, and that’s where the board (and you) tip. It’s pretty hard to stand up once you’re headed over the edge.
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Stoke happens. The lift of the wave, the water parting around the tip of the board and flaring out the sides: the power and grace of nature. Don’t give up: you can’t be perfect on day one. Or two. Or even year one. The accomplishment is in the fun and frustration of the process. The stoke is there. Remember this, no matter how small the wave or how short the ride.
*Having formally launched my photography website one year ago this month, I can say that each of these lessons applies.
In between tumbles and shaking water out of my ear, I looked out further into the ocean – towards the next set where the “real” surfers gathered. They wait. I see new images and know I will need to be in the water to capture those feelings: the calm, the peaceful zen, a unified appreciation of the environment, the stoke, and what I hope will eventually be my community.
And so I know that, for me, there will be another wave.
Her ride. Photo: Nicole Boramanand
