Sucks

I know, but I can't help complaining about it.

Trapped

Today was my third surfing lesson and my greatest fear happened. It wasn't a shark. I didn't drop my board from my head in front of hot surfer dudes. I got stuck in my wetsuit. I've been so worried about this happening, I've actually asked Jules about it at the beginning of each lesson. We talk and surf together for about 3 hours, and then she leaves and I hang out and surf on my own for a while. So today before she left I said, as I have before, "What if I can't get out of my wetsuit without you?" She said, "You'll be able to." "But what if I can't?" "You can."

So I couldn't get out of my wetsuit. I hated that. I hung out on the beach for about twenty minutes tugging at the long cord attached to the zipper (designed to allow people to get out of wetsuits alone) and looking around wondering who I would ask to help rescue me. Finally I decided that I couldn't do it, it was too humiliating, and I hoofed it up to the parking lot with my board on my head. Once at my car I wondered if I should drive back to the surf shop (to return my rented gear) in my wetsuit and get help there, or if I should just approach a stranger in the lot. I strapped my board on the top of my car and took my booties off . . . stall, stall, stall . . . and finally approached a mom with several kids. "Can I ask you to help me with the zipper on my back? It's stuck." She answered, "Do you have a quarter?" which I thought was hi-larious, and then one of the kids unzipped me. Dork. Nerd. Idiot. Durrrrrrr.

Guess what? It wasn't that bad. My worst fear happened and it wasn't that big of a deal. I hope it doesn't happen again, but if it does, I can handle it.

Scrambled

During my time in Hawaii I read two books. I mentioned the first one - Saltwater Buddha by Jaimal Yogis (who left a comment on my post right here - squeal!), which is an awesome story that I'm about to read again. It's such a great introduction to Zen in the mellowest, back-door way. You're reading a very cool story about a guy trying to find his story and suddenly you realize it feels like you've been meditating the whole time. I've since Googled that shit and found other articles by Jaimal, and he's a great writer on any subject. Reading him feels like an easy conversation with a good friend, like the best part of a lazy afternoon. Highly recommend Saltwater Buddha (here - complete with 36 5-star reviews. No kidding.)

The second book I read was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Rober Pirsig. (Spoilers ahead.) If you've read this book without slitting your wrists: kudos, and I'd love to hear from you. (Unless you claim to understand what that book was about, because then we'd both know you're a big liar.) I hope I can definitively say that it's my last time reading a story about a guy with schizophrenia going through a schizophrenic episode while writing. For a lot of reasons.

Anyhoodle, I read the very painful book (and the afterword to the latest edition - oh my god) and pretty much hated it. I hated page ten and page eleven, pages one hundred and one hundred and fifty, and every page in between. Every day there was hate while I laid by the pool and forced myself to finish the book I hated. Yes, I did understand parts. I really liked the narrative of the trip, and I enjoyed the relationship between the author and his son, Chris. (Holy . . . ) I even enjoyed the stuff about multiple hypotheses and a good amount of the philosophy as it related to the subject-object stuff. Pretty cool. And, fine, after I was finished, the whole thing kind of started to grow on me. But seriously. I never want to hear the word "quality" again.

So I was laying by the pool forcing myself to finish the book, really only because of my slight OCD, and finally on page 285 was the first thing that really clicked for me. Now, 284 pages is far longer than I would wait for most books to make sense, mild anxiety disorder or not. But there is something compelling about ZATAOMM, so I pushed through the parts I didn't understand for over half of the book. And then I read something that clicked for me.

The author is discussing a detailed motorcycle repair that, if I remember right, comes down to a single screw. To make the repair, he needs to take off a cover plate, and the screw that would enable him to take off the plate is broken. At that point it doesn't matter what the specific repair is because he can't get past the screw. He starts this portion of the story, "Stuckness. That's what I want to talk about today." He describes: "This is the zero moment of consciousness. Stuck. No answer. Honked. Kaput. It's a miserable experience emotionally. You're losing time. You're incompetent. You don't know what you're doing. You should be ashamed of yourself." It was at this point that I took notice. Incompetence and shame? That sounded familiar to me. Suddenly, 284 pages in, I found something I could relate to my quest of learning how to surf.

He goes on for pages about the grief this type of situation causes to the mechanic. The whole repair hinging on one single screw. It's a mess. And then he proposes another view:

Let's consider a reevaluation of the situation in which we assume that the stuckness now occurring, the zero of consciousness, isn't the worst of all possible situations, but the best possible situation you could be in. After all, it's exactly this stuckness that Zen Buddhists go to so much trouble to induce; through koans, deep breathing, sitting still and the like. Your mind is empty. You have a "hollow-flexible" attitude of "beginner's mind." You're right at the front end of the train of knowledge, at the track of reality itself. Consider, for a change, that this is a moment to be not feared but cultivated. If your mind is truly, profoundly stuck, then you may be much better off than when it was loaded with ideas . . . Stuckness shouldn't be avoided. It's the psychic predecessor of all real understanding.

Swoon. It gets even better after that.

It reminded me of something Jules said during my last lesson when we were talking about my unemployment and the fact that I'm not currently a contributing member of society. We acknowledged the intense social affirmation that comes from being a Sick Workaholic, and I mentioned that I miss that sometimes. I miss fitting into society in that way. She talked about her former life (pre-beach bum, she called it) and I got the sense that she really understood my dilemma. And then she said this: that if you're lucky, really lucky, something in life comes along and cracks your egg and you're not able to continue on the path you were previously on. Your understanding changes. Your priorities get reordered.

Stuckness. The place at the front end of the train of knowledge. Not to be feared but to be cultivated. A difficult shift, at least for me. I don't totally understand it, but I do know that my egg has been cracked. And I'm going to try to stay here a little bit longer to make sure I learn as much as I can.

(Sorry that my posts lately are really long and all about this kind of junk. It's so where I'm at, but I know it's not that interesting on a wide scale. I won't be here forever :>)

Final Day

The very coolest thing I can say about my last day in Hawaii, which was my fifth day renting a board and going out in Waikiki, is this:

In the airport waiting for my flight home, I was reading through my blog entry about my most recent lesson with Jules. As I described, it was a very emotional lesson for me, and I have returned to that post several times to help me continue to process it. In the airport I was killing time reading through it, and I got to the part where I described how unstable the board is in the water:

It's fricking irritating - the board is slick and the water is moving and everything in the universe is conspiring for you to not stay on that thing. I pounce in the middle and grip the rails and just wait to feel balanced, but just end up flipping right over.

And sitting in the airport reading that entry, I was so surprised that I'd described the board as unstable. I had a few moments of genuine confusion over that description, wondering why the board was flipping over. Over the course of the week it had become so comfortable and so natural to be on and around the board. As I'd sat on it and laid on it and hopped on and off of it, I'd heard Jules in my head calling after me as I shot away from her on a wave, "Manhandle that thing!" I'd kind of stopped being gentle and afraid of it, and I'd started gripping the rails like it was my own, and I'd stopped fighting against the waves and started accepting them. And somewhere in the middle of that, and no one is more surprised than I am about this, it all started to feel pretty natural.

That last day when I rented the board I left my rash guard on the beach, so it was just me in my bathing suit and the board. I have to say, being out in just my suit felt amazing; amazingly organic and pure and free. Very different. Never mind the wetsuit, it felt different not having the reef walkers and rashie. That was an awesome feeling - nothing between my suit and the board, just feeling the water all over my body. I really felt in the water. I loved that feeling.

So I stood in the water about knee-deep and put my leash on, and then paddled out, way, way out. I noticed that sometimes it's helpful to paddle with my legs up, bent at a 90* angle at the knee and crossed at the ankle, as it settled my weight in a smaller space on the board. Other times, it felt good to extend my legs all the way back and utilize the entire length of the board.

I paddled out past the surfers, slightly beyond Diamond Head, and found an area in between two line ups that seemed like a good place for a rookie. I got settled on my belly and started enjoying the rhythm and motion of the waves; I swear they were almost mathematical in their patterns. I laid on my belly on the board and looked at Diamond Head, and looked at the shore. I listened to the way the waves would knock on the bottom of the board. I thought about how Jules says that you generally get the kinds of waves you need each time you come to the ocean to surf. And I thought about if that has greater application in life. I crossed my arms across the top of the board and laid my head down on them, first to one side and then the other. I did that for about an hour and a half and it was the most stable thing in the world. I almost fell asleep. The waves didn't scare me or knock me off center. They lulled me. When I was certain I was over my rental period and figured they were about to come searching for me, I paddled back into the shore and never once flipped, or even almost flipped. I glided across the top of the water, gripping the board through waves and dodging the other folks in the bay. I felt comfortable on the board, less like it was an extension of me and more like I was an extension of it.

It was an awesome day.

PDX

Tonight was another amazing Portland night. Aren't they all? I went to a movie downtown (Away We Go) and then wandered over to Yamhill to get a slice of Schmizza. The guy working told me about Flicks on the Bricks, so I went down the street to Pioneer Courthouse Square and found hundreds of people watching Dirty Dancing. It was 80* out at 10:00 PM, the movie was free, and everyone looked like they were having a good time. You'd think that many people coming downtown might be a parking problem, but it's not. Guess why. It's Portland, so everyone took the Max.

Tomorrow I'm going to head down to the PSU park blocks farmers market for breakfast.

Please don't ever let me leave here again.

I Want to Marry This Couple

Thanks to Amiee for making my day.

Great.

The other day I accidentally put my iPod Shuffle through an entire heavy cycle of the wash. I was so bummed when I found it lying lifeless in the bottom of the machine. I tested it just for kicks and thought it worked, but it only played one song over and over. So I went down to the Apple Store to purchase a new one - I can't run without music. My own gasping and wheezing alarms me.

I walked in and flagged down someone to help me. The guy that come over took a minute just staring at me before he started talking. He said, "Can I help you?" and then "I'm sorry, but you look so familiar. You must know my mom."

Days Three and Four

I rented a board the day following my first time out so I wouldn't chicken out and scrub the whole idea. The good news is that I didn't shake while renting it; the bad news is that the guy didn't offer wax and I was too nervous to ask. Bummer. So it was a slippery situation out there. 

This was only my second time screwing around on the board alone, so it was very rookie-tastic. I paddled out, falling off every twenty feet or so. It's so humiliating/humbling to fall off a surfboard in front of a long line up of bored surfers awaiting a wave. They're hanging out, looking around, and I provided a great focal point. Sometimes you have to really swallow your pride to learn something new.

When I'm running at the local high school track, it never fails - there are always a group of 18 year old girls in their booty shorts (with the waistband rolled down several times, because the shorts aren't small enough?) and sports bras on the track with me. They're running faster than I am and maintaining conversations while circling the track in a cluster. Their bodies are a study in elasticity. I imagine them looking and me and thinking, "I am never going to get old." So when I run, I look at the track in front of me and block everything out, pretend no one is there, and just focus on the run. Most of the time I'm successful at it, and when I can block everyone out, I notice I run faster, better. That's what I tried to do at Waikiki - block everyone out and just focus on my experience. I wasn't always able to do it, but I tried. 

One super fun thing is that when you're paddling out to the surf, you face waves that are coming in your direction. One way to get through the waves without getting pushed off your board or losing too much ground is to do a small half push up right when they reach your board. You raise your upper body so the waves go in between your body and the board, which kind of disperses the impact. This guy is kind of doing it below.

In Oregon, I do those little push ups and the water goes between me and the board and I keep going. In Hawaii, the waves are different (bigger? I don't know) and when the wave would come and I would push up, the force of it kicked my legs up and I caught air every time! It was awesome! That was my favorite part. 

So I just paddled out past the surfers, gave them some entertainment, and tried to get used to my board. When I got out to a spot that looked safe from surfers and waves, I just did little drills for a couple of hours. I'd slide off the board, hop back on (that's a sight to see), lay down on my belly, sit up, lay back down, and slide off. Over and over. Moving around is tougher than it sounds. Also, when I go from laying down to sitting, I'm always in the wrong spot on the board, so I have to do this crazy scootch dance to try to get where I need to be. It's a delicate situation because the board is extra big (because I'm new) and I'm straddling it, and I already learned on my first day that I can't really use my legs to grip it. Also, when you're sitting on the board and waves come up behind you that aren't big enough to surf but are big enough to give you a little impact, you have lean back into the wave to stay balanced. To do that, you have to be at the right spot on the board, or it's going to shoot out in front of you like a rocket. Thus, the scootching. In that time I'd also practice bringing my left foot up and gripping the rails to do a little half pop-up to try to get my body to remember what to do when I'm actually ready to try to catch a wave.

After all the drills, by the fourth day I was feeling a little better about the board. I only fell off the board once, and while I was out in the water there was a huge rainbow stretching from one side of Diamond Head to the other - amazing. Everyone out in the water turned their boards to watch it. It felt amazing to be out there and to be part of the group experiencing that together.

I was in Hawaii for a total of 7 days, and I skipped renting a board on two of the days. I'd like to say it was because I was tired or had other things to do, but it was really the humiliation of the whole thing, and the negative messages I was giving myself. I know this happens to everyone, but I really got into a loop of thinking: What am I doing? I'll never ride a wave. I'm not athletic. This is ridiculous. What was I thinking? This was such a stupid idea. Most days I have the energy to combat that and I don't let those messages get very far. But a couple of times it was just too much to paddle out and slip off the board in front of all those experienced surfers, and I let myself skip it and lay by the pool and read. ( . . . books about surfing.) It's hard to be strong all the time.

So I did some great practicing, and had a lot of time on the board to get the feel of it. I'd stretched myself and overcome the fear of just renting the damn thing and practicing without Jules. In a way, I was proud of myself. Pretty soon it was my last day in Hawaii and I had one more opportunity to hang out in the water.

Getting Warmer

I've been in a rotten mood today. It's hotter than the surface of the sun in my apartment, and this is just the beginning of a really warm week. I'm not exactly sure if it's only the weather that is creating this foul mood, but today had me wishing I had a partner just so I had someone to pick a fight with. 

I had my final meeting with my career coach today. When the Bank shitcanned me they hired a consultant probably to ensure they didn't get sued if I jumped off a cliff. I cannot fathom that four months of coaching together with my severance package and bonus was cheaper than keeping me and letting me do the work of three, but I digress. (See? It's all attitude here today, folks.)

The consultant left me a phone message last week to set up our meeting today. Her voicemail said, "I hope you're back from Hawaii rested and ready to get serious about the job hunt." Ruh roh. I am back from Hawaii, but I'm not really serious about anything right now, and certainly not the job hunt. I've been concerned that when I come back from running errands some day, my family and friends will be sitting in my living room in a circle. Today my sister told her that she thinks I should stretch the funemployment thing out as long as possible, and it was a huge relief to hear her say that (since that is becoming the closest thing I have to a plan.) 

I had a really great weekend. I met Iron Fist and Kerri Anne for breakfast (was that lunch? I'm not a morning person) on Saturday at the PSU Farmer's Market (where I took the very random picture posted here.) It was so awesome. I think I'll go back this weekend. Then I took my second yoga class. (When I paid for that first one it included two weeks of any classes.) It was interesting - this one was totally different from the first. I still didn't love it, but I did like experiencing another person's style. This time the teacher was slightly older than the last, maybe mid 40's, and you could tell she'd been through therapy. She had zero control issues; she said if we just mimic exactly what she's doing then we're not really doing yoga, we're just conforming. Hello, Portland. I've missed you. She talked a lot and I just loved her vibe. Then I had a pretty good jog that night. 

On Sunday I had my Apple lesson, and instead of working in iMovie, we just screwed around sharing cool sites and talking about Hawaii. It was really fun. Then I met a friend for lunch and had a great discussion about transgenderism, and then another good jog in the evening. Somewhere in there I also watched the coolest documentary, Sliding Liberia, which is a must for surfing fans and everyone else, too. Trailer here. In Hawaii while I was at the North Shore I met the girl in the movie. Very good story.

Both days were so connecting, so satisfying. On my way to meet the kids on Saturday I thought, I'm probably at the point where the social things and activities that I've done in the four months since returning to Portland likely outnumber those that I did during three years in upstate NY. I mean, that's not the total equation, but it's part of it. 

Time to call this stinky day done. I think the lesson from today is that I need to get out of the house, even when it's 7,000* out. Sitting inside all day drives me crazy. I'm going to have to find an adventure tomorrow to get me moving.

My Way

On my second day in Hawaii I went up to the North Shore to Haleiwa Town. It's one of my favorite places - super mellow, and I feel like I've really gotten away from the rest of the world when I'm there. There's something quiet and peaceful about it. Plus, it has Matsumoto shave ice. This time I went to visit the Surf Museum and Ehukai Beach, home of the world famous Banzai Pipeline.

At dinner time I went back to Waikiki to rent a board. Honestly, I was shaking from nerves when I rented it, and I shook the whole time I was on it. Super dorky, I know. I was convinced the guy managing the rentals was going to say, "Hey, are you LSL? You don't know how to surf. Get out of here. You have to leave Hawaii right this minute and you can't ever come back." I don't exactly know why I was so nervous. There's something about having a board under your arm or on top of your head that says, "I kind of, a little bit know what I'm doing" and I don't yet. I think the big deal was that there are great surfers in Hawaii, and I felt like a huge poser. I had to tell myself over and over I'm not trying to be anything that I'm not. I'm not an athlete, I'm not really a surfer. (Jules always says to me, "You're surfing!" And I say, "I am? I don't think I am.") I just love the ocean and have wanted to learn to surf for years. I'm just trying to have some fun. 

At home I use a soft top 10' board, but that day they gave me an 11' hard top. I just shut up and took what he gave me. He told me to wax it, which I'd never done, but it's easy to figure out and I'd read about waxing it in circles, so I was fine. It turns out - wax is awesome. That stuff is like glue in the water. It almost feels like cheating.

The long story short is that I paddled out on my board, flipping off the goddamn thing every fifteen feet or so, and went to the very end of the line up, quite a ways away from the surfers. (Jules made sure I knew a little surfing etiquette before going.) I was so unstable and still totally shaking, so I decided that I wasn't going to even try to catch any waves. I just wanted to mess around with the board and try to get a feel for it. In Oregon, I'd never spent any time paddling or just grooving on the board. Jules and I are both tall and luscious, and you can walk out a long ways into the water and have it still be only chest or neck-deep. So this was the first time I'd had to paddle out into deep water. It's exhausting! It is exhausting. (I continue to be completely amazed at how much surfing draws upon upper body strength that I don't have.) Also, in my lessons I only hop on the board when my wave is coming, and then I'm on it only until it shoots me off like a rocket, so I'm not used to sitting or laying and just hanging out on it. That was my goal for the day. I purposefully stayed away from the waves, not wanting to get in the way, and not wanting to break my neck. Several times I'd turned my board around so I was facing the shore, and I'd hear the unmistakable peeling sound of a gorgeous wave behind me. Crap. I'd paddle like hell to get away from it, and think, this must be the opposite of surfing. That happened several times.

So in the end, it wasn't all that great, but I did it. I rented a board. In Hawaii. I paddled out - way out, messed around, and paddled in. And I had scars to prove it: I'd sat too far back on my board at one point and tried to grip it with my calves as it slipped out in front of me, slicing the back of my left leg. But the best part was when I could finally get stable on the board for a few minutes: I was sitting out in the ocean and on my left was Diamond Head, and on my right was the setting sun. Yeah. And it was even better than you're thinking right now. 

When I finished I knew I wanted to rent a board again the next day to practice some more.

(Um, I should mention that I'm not purposefully trying to make these cliffhangers. There's no big finale at the end, so don't be waiting for me to say I surfed Pipeline on a fluke and got invited to the Masters. These experiences would be trivial to someone else, seriously. Didn't you just read that I paddled away from the waves? But I wanted to capture as much as possible from my vacation because I am having a TOTAL BLAST learning. And I'm doing it slower and weirder than just about any other person on earth, but I am loving it and I'm overcoming a lot of personal obstacles. I mean, yes there were times, I'm sure you knew, when I bit off more than I could chew. But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out. I faced it all and I stood tall, and . . . jk.) 

First Try

By the time I left on my trip I'd lost all confidence and knew I'd need to take a lesson in Hawaii if I planned to surf at all. I'd done some research on surf schools earlier in the week and, as the cabin door of the aircraft was closing for my flight, I called and scheduled a lesson for the following morning. I guess I should mention that in my research I found a surf school where all the instructors are firemen. You heard me, firemen. And I figured, if I'm going to take a private lesson, I might as well take one from a fireman surfer. A surfer who is a fireman. Two of my favorite things all wrapped into one.

The lesson was way out west of Ewa Beach, and I ended up with a really cool guy as my instructor - super cute, very friendly and down to earth. I mean, he was no Jules, but I did ok. I explained my situation to him - that I've had two lessons but am still pretty intimidated and haven't been able to get up yet. 

I don't have a lot of testosterone in my daily life right now so I forget the powerful force that it is. As soon as I said that I hadn't gotten up yet, he latched onto it and said it was his one goal to get me up on the board. And that's kind of where things went wrong. He felt pressure to get me on a wave, I felt pressure to not let him down; it was all this intense performance-based drill. I hated it. I ended up getting both feet on the board, which did feel new and good, but only long enough to take a swan dive off the front end. The waves were pretty big (for me), about 4 or 5', and the lesson was just over an hour, which was too short to get my mojo flowing. This was also my first introduction to reef and I HATED it. Hated. The reef was really bad where we were, patchy and around 3' tall with deep holes, and I cut my foot almost immediately. (I didn't tell him because I didn't want to be a baby.) And that was with reef walkers on! Every time I wiped out, I was certain I was going to face plant into the reef. It sucked. I later told my friend that I think I was the only surfer in Hawaii who wished I was surfing in Oregon. I was glad to get board time and further instruction, but the whole experience wasn't that great. And I decided that it was too stressful dealing with the reef to surf in Hawaii.

Another bummer was that my instructor tried to be really nice and handle my board for me, and that ended up causing a problem. I'm totally capable and comfortable with my board, and kind of pride myself on that. I know how to get it in and out of the water safely and can deal with it around waves and kids and stuff like that. (It's hard to imagine, but those things can be like missiles if they hit the water wrong and get away from you.) Well, at one point my dude was trying to maneuver both his and my board as we went into the water, and a wave caught the nose of my board and it slammed into my head. I called a friend later because I was convinced I was going to have "the thing that killed that actress." It was a little stressful. (I ended up with nothing more than a goose egg and a headache.)

That evening I went to Waikiki Beach to watch the surfers and noticed that no one was wearing reef walkers. What the? I also noticed that the line up cleared out a bit around dinner time, and I decided to come back the next day to rent a board.

Now Breathe Into Your Right Lung

I did something really out of my comfort zone tonight. I attended a yoga class. I just did it without too much thinking because I would have chickened out if I spent time on it. I called the place and asked for the basics (What should I wear? Just what I wear to the gym.), and texted my sister right before leaving my house for last-minute details. (Do you wear shoes in yoga? No for fear of slippage.) 

I bought a series of yoga classes about ten years ago but quit after my first one because it was really terrible. The instructor was very anal and spent the hour-long class repeating my name over and over as an indicator that I wasn't doing it right. Over and over. For an hour. (I now also think it was vinyasa, which was too advanced for me.) So this time I made it a point to tell them when I registered that I was brand new, hoping that would set the stage.

I don't know what I think. I didn't really like it. It's definitely, definitely not user or newbie friendly at all, in my opinion. All the pose names and weird descriptions (Breathe into the center of your skull. Now let your forehead melt away.) I sweated my ass off - I wanted to say, COULD WE GET A LITTLE A/C IN HERE? - and my knees were killing me about half-way through. Some of the other kids in the class seemed ridiculously serious, with their aluminum water carriers and "This white t-shirt is green" shirts. I had on my "Just Do It" garb and accidentally burped at one point. The whole thing seemed a skosh elitist, I have to say. 

However, I will say that I liked the sensation of stretching so thoroughly, and I really liked the fifteen minutes at the end where we just lay in the dark. That was fun. (I thought about surfing.) I also found the instructor to be pretty authentic and compassionate. I got some very good vibes from her, which I really appreciated after my last experience. She also has a slammin' bod. Did yoga do that? Depending on how I feel in the morning, I think I'll try it a few more times and make a decision at that point.

Also of note, I went for a jog today after a two week absence. Ouch. We're going through a god-awful heat wave right now and I thought I could beat the temps by going early-ish. It didn't work - it was 80* by 10:30 and I almost melted on the pavement. (80* is my max running temp.) BUT I did make it two miles jogging/walking (I alternate), and for the very first time in my life didn't have shin splints! It's a miracle. I felt minor irritation, but nothing like the daggers I've experienced daily up until now. Sincere thanks to the brilliant Stacey and genius D for explaining calf/shin stretches over e-mail. You kids are the best! 

Heaven

I'm back from vacation and I had an amazing time. Hawaii is a dream. I surfed five of the seven days I was there, and am sufficiently bruised and scabbed up to prove it. 

I'm so exhausted from the red-eye flight and the time change that I'm just wandering around my apartment bumping into things. I will recount my adventures in what will surely prove to be mind-numbing detail as soon as I can remember my name.

I Can't Wait for Right Now

I'm packing my suitcase and eating black Red Vines. (I don't know why I eat those things. I know they make me shit wrong.) I leave for Hawaii tomorrow. I've been so freaked out about the flight. Tonight I was pacing around my apartment getting more and more freaked out, so I called a friend to meet for a late dinner. It was either that or Valium.

I hope I have a great time. My BFF who I've made all previous trips with couldn't go, so this time it's all me. I've been hoping to make this a bit of a surfing vacation, but I don't know.

My surf lesson last week was really tough. I'm sure there are people who can go out of their comfort zone and try something totally new without it being a complete emotional saga requiring intense psychotherapy . . . but screw them and their parents that are still together*. My two lessons have been great but intense, bringing up all kinds of issues for me. And you might think I'd hate it, but I don't. That's actually a big part of why I'm doing it, of course. But it's still uncomfortable and takes a lot of processing. The lessons are three hours long and this time I spent the first hour and a half - at least - totally going through the motions and wondering how on earth I ever thought this was a good idea. I couldn't get my foot up. I was sliding off the left side of the board. Nothing was working. At one point I shrugged and said to Jules, "I'm not really having any fun."

I tend to get overly focused on technique and doing things "right" and I just fight against the waves. It's fricking irritating - the board is slick and the water is moving and everything in the universe is conspiring for you to not stay on that thing. I pounce on the middle and grip the rails and wait to feel balanced, but just end up flipping right over. I spent the first hour and a half fighting with the water, trying to harness it and show it who's who. I used every muscle in my body to force the board to stay steady. And it left me exhausted and ready to throw in the towel.

Then Jules changed how we were going about it, and after every wipe out, I had to tell her one thing I did great that time. I'd paddled really well. Or I'd timed my pop-up attempt perfectly (wave - one - two - go!) I had some awful runs, and when she asked me what I did great, we'd both just stare at each other. Finally she'd say, "You really tried!" and I'd agree. Jules also started having me focus on just one thing - getting my back foot right, or pushing up from the rails and not the deck. She also made an observation - that when I wiped out, I stayed down in the ocean swimming around a bit. I played in the water, felt the motion of the waves, let them relax and focus me. She said people generally fight the momentum and stand up as quick as possible after wiping out. And somewhere in the middle of all that mess, I started to have an awesome, awesome time.

It's so damn hard to show up for yourself sometimes. To be fully present, accepting whatever thoughts or feelings come up, honoring them as valid and worthy of acceptance. At the end of the lesson when we got out of the water, we were team-carrying my board (because it's so damn heavy because it's so damn big) and I was walking behind Jules and I started to cry. Yes, cry. I had about three hours of sleep the night before, so I was exhausted before even starting. And it would have been easy to explain it away, or to not even mention it - we were both dripping with water; she never would have noticed. But I knew there was something that could be learned from what I was feeling, so when we made it up the sand to our bags I said, "Jules, I'm starting to get emotional."

You know how when you're crying around someone you don't really know and you feel weird and they feel weird and they kind of try to hug you to be nice, but it's awkward because you're pretty much strangers and it's weird to be touching and stuff? Yeah, it wasn't like that at all. We sat on a washed up log and looked out to the ocean, baking in the sun, and Jules scooted by me and put her arm around me and held me. I wasn't crying very hard or anything, I was just really overwhelmed and having a hard time putting my emotions into words. And I showed up for myself and she showed up for me.

There is a long list of things (for a long list of reasons) that aren't for me. Just normal things in life that one might encounter, but when I encounter them, there's no reason to even consider it. No reason to try. I know that's not for me. Do trust me when I say that surfing, for a plethora of reasons, is not for me. But I'm trying to challenge that, and by extension, all the other limits I've put on myself.

It was a hard day surfing. I didn't get up; I still haven't gotten totally up. (But I've almost mastered surfing on my knees, which, as far as I know, isn't a sport.) It was incredibly physical. During my first lesson I caught about twelve or fifteen waves, and another instructor chased my board for me. This time I probably caught thirty or forty waves, which means thirty or forty wipe outs, and chased my board - far and wide - all on my own. The waves were rough, well over five feet, with a lot of wind. (Beginner waves are 1 - 3'.) We worked a lot on my paddling, which was tiring, and I carried my mammoth board on my head all over that beach and parking lot.

After Jules and I finished processing - which was intense and magical, and that's all I can say - she told me to have fun for the rest of the day and bring the equipment back to the shop before closing. At first I didn't even know what she meant. When I figured it out, I told her that I didn't think I could go out on my own without her. We talked about it and in the end I decided to just borrow her belief in me and do it. She gave me a leash - HEY THANKS, NOW I DON'T HAVE TO CHASE MY BOARD ANYMORE - and I had a lot of fun for the next hour being pounded in the head by wave after wave, and exercising my faith in myself. It was pretty awesome.

That afternoon driving back from the coast I thought of my Hawaii trip and felt 100% confident in my ability to rent a board and play around on vacation. Who cares how I would do, I knew I would have a total blast messing around and practicing. The further I got away from my lesson, the less I felt ok about it, and right now I know there is no way that I can try to surf in Hawaii. I would do it wrong, I would embarrass myself, I would break surfing. I'm back here again.

I don't know. I'm reading the killer-est, kick-ass book called Saltwater Buddha: A Surfer's Quest to Find Zen on the Sea, and it's challenging me in deep ways. The way Jules challenges me. So I'm going to go to Hawaii tomorrow and lay on the beach and read, and maybe find some courage to do more, and have a crazy great time. I'm so excited. I can't wait.

Thanks, Bob. Love that line.

The Time of My Life

I have to be the big music geek that I am and mention that I finally saw Green Day live tonight. Best. Concert. Ever. Best. Ever. Times a million. Unbelievable musical performance, killer graphics behind the stage, crazy, crazy showmanship. He had every one of those 16,000 people in the palm of his hand. The crowd was one word away from rioting. I think I can die happy now.

Cross another one off the Life List. 

Love

I'm in Seattle visiting my two year old nephew and I'm totally overwhelmed by how much I love him. He bats his eye lashes - they are a mile long - and whispers "Auntie" and I forget everything else.

He waits on the porch for me to drive up the street in "Mimi's car." He tells me to sit down on the swing beside him. He grabs my fingers to steady himself as he walks on gravel. He falls into my arms as he spirals down the park slide. He asks me to hold his head and give him kisses as he goes to bed in his crib.

I love him so much. Too much. My heart almost explodes when he pushes his button nose against my face. His neck smells like playground dirt and hope and sunny days and tired tears and a thousand prayers.