Notes on My First Summer of Surfing
As I was rinsing off at the beach shower this morning, another surfer walked up to do the same. I offered to hold the faucet open for him, and he said, "Nah, after this many decades, I got it figured out." As every old timer I've run into has done, he continued talking. "I've been surfing for over 60 years. I started when I was 8. I'm now 74." I had a cheeky reply, "Only took you 60 years to figure out how to rinse your surfboard one-handed? I'm in month 5. It's good to know I've got time." He chuckled as old timers do, gave me some encouragement, then we went to our cars. So much about this is lovely. The easy camaraderie among surfers at Blackies, no matter what level (in my limited experience). The gentle encouragement that I've come to expect from the more experienced. And this guy is still shredding waves at 74. It may take me that long to actually catch a wave and ride it on my feet, but I'm totally willing to put in the time.
One of my favorite writers is Jessica Dore (find her on Insta @thejessicadore). She brings together modern psychology concepts and archaic knowledge, including a wonderfully developed and growing sense of the tarot, which I love. She is also probably the inspiration for keeping this blog. She has interesting things to say at her particular intersection of knowledges, and I thought surfing and mindfulness might be another interesting intersection. In her weekly essay today, she mentioned that "...personal narrative [is] not ... a portrait of a fixed true self but a site of selfing & of potentiality, that can be worked & re-worked toward 'becoming other than what we have been.'"
Since settling into my new home, this whole summer has been a project in becoming: landing in a new life, exploring not just the landscape but who I want to be here, and processing things past. Letting go of what is no longer working, cutting through the waves of uncertainty to find a peacefulness and equanimity deep in my belly. Usually, once autumn hits, I feel an annual sense of melancholy for the summer I didn't have. Though fall is indistinguishable from summer here, I don't have that feeling. I had a good summer.
And I wanted to remember the moments that have made it wonderful. When I was in high school, my group of friends kept "cheer up lists." A cheer up list was a list of our inside jokes, the good times we had, and anything else that made us laugh. (Now, we might call it "an Instagram account.") Several "vignettes and still lifes" that have marked this first summer of surfing, here is my cheer up list.
The group of us women in May, standing up with our surfboards after the lessons for the picture. Sherri getting everyone's phone numbers and starting the chat.
All of our instructors at Endless Sun: Amy the owner, winning a surf contest this weekend with her baby bump proudly squeezed into a wetsuit; Bryan, Chett, Sean, Tanner, and Dylan. There were more -- so kind and we totally underestimated the value of that little push into the waves!
Dolphins, nearly every time we went out. Usually a pair of them. Today, there was a whole pod, at least a dozen, some quite small. The Southern California coast is home to one of the largest populations of Common Dolphins, and we see them all of the time.
Wetsuits really do keep you warm. Not dry, but warm.
Getting up at 6 am on Sunday mornings: so peaceful, like I'm in on a secret that only a few lucky people know.
Cheering for each other every time someone catches a wave. The unrelenting positivity, support, and encouragement.
Defining friendly waves as those small, slow rollers we love so much.
I went to summer camp as a 55 year old. Surfing. Summer. Camp. Took the week off of work and did it right.
Eating breakfast with the girls after camp, learning about their tattoos, hearing their stories, and only gaining more and more respect and admiration for these fierce women as I get to know them better.
Sitting out beyond the break, chatting, like we're sitting in a coffee shop, catching up on life, families, jobs, etc.
Handling big water. Well, big waves for us is anything over 2 feet tall...
Feeling like a local, letting people who want my parking spot to wait while I strip in front of them.
Spending too much time on Instagram planning my #vanlife surf bus.
Showing up to class after a couple of weeks being gone to cheers and hugs.
Too many more moments; I'll add to this as I remember them. It's been a good summer. Floating on a bubble of well-being tonight, toasting to the sting of the salt in my throat and the sand in my ears.
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