Surfing is about communion. It's about appreciating a breaking wave so much so that one feels moved to hitch a ride. This is surfing in its purest expression. Photo: Getty
There is much to say about surfing, and it touches me deeply, because the ideas and concepts that I have regarding this activity contain tendrils that reach out to other pursuits and areas of life.
My disclaimer: surfing is art. Art is subjective. There is no “right” or “wrong.” There are no standards of style. Each surfer’s expression is unique…or should be. Example: my friend Phillip has been surfing since the late 1960s/early 1970s. He rides a BZ foam board, exclusively. He has carried his BZ to Africa, Hawaii, and beyond. People ask, “What is that guy doing?! Why does he ride a foam beginner’s board?” The answer is, it doesn’t matter what Phil rides. He’s a great surfer because he does exactly what he wants to do, despite any jeering or pressure from others. Phil’s lifestyle and his choice of wave riding vehicle are his, and his alone. Surfers and others should celebrate his unique expression, because it adds to the colorful tapestry that is the surfing community.
My own relationship with wave riding is best expressed with a longboard and no leash. Though I learned on a short board, the first time I paddled a longboard and felt the supreme pleasure of my entire body being supported on the water, I knew I’d discovered a fit. Riding a shortboard might provide the opportunity to do more tricks, or to ride waves that are faster, yet the glide imparted by a longboard does it for me. It’s that graceful feeling of sailing smoothly along that keeps me interested in communing with the ocean.
In the photo above, I see a perfect set-up: a solitary surfer in clean conditions turns with anticipation to stroke into a blue, roping wave. There’s no fear involved, only the adrenaline rush and aesthetic pleasure of celebrating universal energy as expressed in breaking surf. When I look at this photo, the first thing I notice is the wave. It’s sublime. It’s textured, yet symmetrical and inviting. I see the surfer in the photo, as well, but the surfer is subtext – the focus is on the wave, as it should be. And this is the crux of my argument. This is the philosophy, the approach, that drives my wave riding. I don’t care about tricks – not about noseriding, or cheater fives, or floaters, or anything else that might be important in a contest or that centers surfing squarely on the rider. I don’t want to conquer, or achieve, or accomplish anything with surfing. To me, the beauty of riding waves is discovering the myriad shapes and conditions in which waves show up. Getting in the water is solely about communion– about appreciating a breaking wave so much so that one feels moved to hitch a ride. To me, this is surfing in its purest expression.
I wish that I knew more surfers who felt this way. I wish I were part of some surfing sub-community whose focus was wave-centered, not surfer and trick-centered. I think Miki Dora understood my trip, and he articulated his own vision of what it means to ride waves in a very powerful way:
“For me, I cannot live in the northern hemisphere. I must live back, back in time, where all this sea life, all the oysters, shellfish, crustaceans, everything’s a part of the smell, everything must come into the focus of the whole situation. If you don’t understand this, you’re only a pretender, because the whole magnificence of riding waves is THAT living being–that communication between you and the whole existence of reality on this planet.”
Derek Hynd also made an excellent point when he explained that, “when one is older, surfing has nothing to do with desire and everything to do with joy. It’s just joy in the water.”
Tom Blake called surfing “the great church of the open sky,” and I think he nailed the experience. Getting in the water is all about praise. It should be done reverentially, with great thanks – thanks for the opportunity to tap into a powerful source of natural energy, and thanks for the time and opportunity available to wash one’s sins away in clean saltwater, sinning in this sense being our unwillingness to pay attention – to TRULY pay attention in the most fundamental way. Once a surfer takes off on a wave, nothing else exists. His/her concentration is focused, if only briefly, on not falling. In this instant, the fire of attention is honed, just as it is in Zen meditation and the Japanese tea ceremony. When one takes the time to truly pay attention, one discovers that no moment exists but this one. All else is fleeting. Everything, everything is transient. And, if everything is transient, shouldn’t we treat our lives like today is our last day? Shouldn’t we be more mindful and compassionate? Shouldn’t we treat each moment as a rare gift? Surfing is a wonderful activity to engage one’s self, but it also contains a message that transcends its fun factor: Pay attention! Be mindful! Be sharp! Approached correctly, surfing helps to hone the fire of attention.
The other day, I shared a conversation with my good friend Mike regarding this very subject. He told me that, no matter how many waves he rides, he’ll always want more. He said that, no matter how much he surfs, or how good his rides are, the experience always slips away. This keeps him motivated to engage surfing as frequently as possible, and has steered his surfing ship all over the world. Mike is probably the most well-traveled surfer I know: India, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Barbados, just to name a few of the destinations where he’s waxed up. I have experienced exactly what Mike is talking about, only in my situation, that fleeting feeling discouraged, as opposed to encouraged, my wave riding pursuits. I put an end to focusing my energy on traveling, because it began to feel hollow to me. I didn’t like the idea of suddenly injecting myself into other worlds via air travel, only to surf waves that I would not remember two years later. I felt that I could no longer justify spending so much time and money on trying to capture what is ultimately fleeting. I felt I was chasing my tail. What I’ve discovered since is that this experience is relative.
For Mike, surf travel is his passion. Through his pursuit, he constantly engages that concentration that I discussed above. From my point of view, this is his meditation – his Zen. It’s how he taps into the fire of attention, and he has set up his life so that he makes enough money and is able to carve out enough time to do what he needs to do in order to stay centered. This is laudable. I thank Mike for showing me the flip side of a coin that I believed was one-sided.
In 2010, I am learning to appreciate surfing, again, but will continue to pursue it in my own way, by riding logs and focusing on wave appreciation. Additionally, one thing that stepping away from surfing for a while helped me to understand is that I can do without it. In the ’90s, surfing ruled my life. It dictated where I lived and worked and how I spent money. If the surf was bad, I was bummed. If I couldn’t travel, I was heartbroken. Referring back to Dora, he once said that, if there was no surf, it didn’t exist. In other words, he didn’t get caught up in whether he could ride one day or the next. He simply accepted conditions for what they were, and adjusted accordingly. There is a kind of Zen to this – an ability to traverse the ups and downs of life by sailing along smoothly in the middle, by maintaining composure and equanimity, no matter the situation.
These days, if I get a chance to get in the water, I’ll go. If not, that’s fine, too. As long as I can sit zazen and constantly remind myself that NOW is all there is, then I feel I can show up larger in the world for others. The fire of attention honed in wave riding, and the appreciation of nature that is integral to immersing oneself in the ocean only complements what is learned in zazen.” Pay attention!” I remind myself. When washing the dishes, be the sponge. When walking to the store, REALLY feel the road beneath your feet. Take off your shoes and dig the heat. Let it sink in. Slow down, look around, bike or walk instead of driving. Breathe from your hara. This moment is ALL we have, so honor it by not being sloppy. Paddle gracefully, walk deliberately, and sit solidly.
