Zen and the art of surfing

Forgive me for going a bit spacey and zen on you this post. It's been an unusually good day. I bought a columbine. I turned in my final (FINAL FINAL FINAL) manuscript. I saw the cover of my book for the first time. I got four and a half rides.

Talking and writing about surfing is immensely difficult, much like talking about pianos. Like I said a while back, I'm looking for a new piano. How to put into words what I experience playing different models (all extremely fine specimens), why I like some, why I don't like others? Words are such a crude approximation. What am I listening to, for? What am I hearing? What am I feeling? I can say, "The bass sings" or "The treble is bell like" or "The bass break is awkward" or "The treble doesn't project" but really, what I'm feeling is "I like to play this piano" or "I don't" or sometimes "I should like it but I don't." It's not a why question. I am very distracted by one particular piano I played last weekend. It is haunting me. I don't know why except that it has more soul than any other I've found. Plus there is just the tactile, physical part---I liked touching as well as hearing it, the feel of the keys. That's really important.

What can I say about surfing today?

It was the kind of day that could make me like surfing again, I knew that right off. The waves were small, it was sunny and there was no one out. All I had to do was stay out of the range of the fishing lines of the nearby fishermen. Nothing but me to stand in my own way.

"Alternately frustrating and exhilarating" as the commenter on my recent post put it so well can apply within a single day as well as day to day. I didn't catch a wave for long enough that I started thinking, I'm like a beginner, I can't do anything, I'll never learn, I need lessons...

And then at some point, somehow, I stopped: I was just playing.

It's not supposed to be work.

It's like the difference between practicing the piano and playing it. Practicing is hard work. Necessary, sometimes, but a very different experience than playing. That's why they call it playing.

Today, I didn't get out of the water to look at the clock on the church to see if it was time to go in yet only to be disappointed that it wasn't.

Today, I was able to stay in the moment. Being Here Now. All I focused on was the next wave, not the rest of the day, not yesterday, not tomorrow. That's the hardest thing to do but it's everything.

I've had a long run of bad sessions that dragged down the whole rest of the day and made me exhausted, emotionally and physically. I knew that this one, no matter what happened, wasn't going to do that because it was going to stay in its time---the here and now---and after that it would be done.

I caught lots of waves. I popped up once. I knew that because I felt it in my midsection. It was a movement that had nothing to do with the knees and not much with the legs.

More than two years ago, when I was in California, I was catching lots of perfect little waves and feeling the drop. I had the idea then that there is something that happens in that drop which makes it much easier to pop up. The trick, then, would be to catch that instant when it is easier. I still don't know if I was right or wrong about that, but today I felt like I was right. I recognized the instant that would have been that instant, if it indeed exists, and I tried to pop up in it. Most of the time it didn't work. I would get my hands down on the deck, the first step to any popup, but then---against my will---my knee would be on the board. I'd clamber up---I think some of the times I did this I got the rides. I think that when I knew I did the popup, and a couple of times when I wasn't sure, I didn't get rides...but it's all fuzzy, as usual.

If there is a magic second for popping up, it's because in order to pop up you have to push down with your arms---I do that even when I'm doing popups on the floor of my living room. That is definitely the second step, after getting your hands on the board, and feeling that drop makes it easier. (And of course it's not a magic second, it's a magic one-fourth of a second.)

I think. I really have no idea.

One of the fishermen caught a really big fish. One yelled and pointed out a seal right in front of me, but truthfully I couldn't see it.

A guy came out after me and I thought, Now my fun is over, because I was all alone at the jetty spot where I usually can't get close to because that's where all the really good surfer-machowavehogs hang out. I thought he would just position himself right in the spot where I was, a little closer to the jetty to show he was superior.

He didn't. He very considerately (is this possible?) positioned himself far enough away that we didn't have to fight over waves or even watch each other. No one ever, ever does this. Thank you guy on the blue and white board! My day only got better, not worse, because of you.