surf mission accomplished

What a beautiful year it has been for me, full of everything under the sun - love, joy, pain, sorrow, reflection, wilderness, pavement, drift, and purpose. In true southern California style, I thank the universe for all it has given me. In a more tangible vein, I also thank everyone who gave me a hand, who pushed me further, who let me off the hook, who never let me off the hook, who loved me, who cried with me, who told me with a quiet voice that all I needed to begin was to love myself. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is my Thanks-giving.

I also want to share my success in achieving the final part of my year's commitments, which I laid out for myself in my June 15th entry. After Gestalt, wilderness, tai chi, meditation, and writing, all that was left was to wax down that board and hit the surf. So last weekend I hopped on a jet plane to San Diego, dropping some CO2 but loving the journey. I arrived in the evening to the lights of downtown San Diego and the big ol' military base there. My friend Sam picked me up, and we flashed away through the night to his secret paradise up in Cardiff, where he lives in a small apartment with his girlfriend, looking out over the Pacific. Next morning we rose at six and checked the surf conditions from his balcony. That's right, from his balcony. We strapped on our neoprene gear, tucked a board under our arms, and walked down to the beach to hit the waves.





It was amazing. I failed to get up on the board in any significant way, but I paddled hard, body surfed through the whitewater, got chewed up and spit out by a few waves, and felt a little bit of the rhythm of the ocean. These simple acts constitute a huge step for me. One of the reasons I put surfing down as a goal for 2009 is that most of my life I've been somewhat scared of the ocean. It's beautiful, sure, but the feeling of being out in the big, cold, salty waves coming over and over used to make me brace up inside. This time, though, I felt the fear and just pushed through, embracing the salt and my own struggle. I even ended up cutting the bottom of my foot on our second surf lesson, but went out later on anyway just to feel the ocean again. It was refreshing and rewarding, and I will go back to it again. My deepest thanks to Sam for taking me out there to the edge of my known comfort zone...

On a related note that I also want to share, my weekend in San Diego was also marked by conversation that was nearly 100% purposeful and directed. Sam and his partner Brooking are pretty self-aware folks who have done a lot of personal work in their lives, and it was wonderful to avail myself of their good natures and broad minds. I noticed somewhere in the middle of the second day that we had established a pretty organic flow of speaking only when we had something relevant and meaningful to share, about ourselves or the world. In the absence of that, we kept our peace and functioned well in silence, even as we were occupying the same small space. I felt my mind clearing of clutter and becoming light. It was amazing. Not that I necessarily spend most of my life engaged in idle gossip or chit-chat, but the experience of hewing away unnecessary chatter is a beautiful experiment that I highly recommend. The more I do it in my life, the better I feel. I help myself stay on track and in touch with my purpose in any given moment. The more I can let go of nervous filler talk about celebrities, abstract political views, hollow pleasantries, and other things that feel vacant, the more I get down to discovering my purpose, being loving with those around me, and feeling good about what I communicate to the world. It's like a cleansing diet for your mind - get on down to the brown rice and vegetables of your soul by cutting out the pork rinds of vapid banter. Thank you Sam and Brooking - you are inspiring!

This is all I want to say for now. As I write about speaking with purpose, I feel like I've put enough words out there in the world. May you be well and thriving, enjoying this weekend to give thanks and praise.