Simple

I have four weeks before my final two state teacher-prep exams. I've passed all three that I've already taken (miracle) and if I can pass these last two on July 24th, I'll have all of my prep exams done before night school starts on August 25th. Crazy. My life is very strange.

These tests are competency exams to be licensed to teach business and social studies (that one is all essay), and I just started studying yesterday. Not the brightest given that I spent about two months of intense study for each of the previous tests, but I've just been burnt out on studying, and I've been enjoying the arrival of the gentler, more frequent summer waves. I've spent the last two days on my balcony with my cat and my books, and I'm going to try to stay here until I feel like I've made some serious headway. Or until I can't stand it anymore and I need a little surfy surf.

I gave up my basic cable a few weeks ago (and my fancy cable months ago) when I realized that I never really turn the TV on, and when I decided I needed to cut back further. I'm keeping up with the news thusly for about 30 seconds a day, and am totally enjoying what is, to a large degree, a media black-out. I'm not a "Kill Your TV" person by any stretch, but I feel more peaceful when I don't have urgent, irrelevant messages pouring into my brain all the time. When I lived in Japan, I had an almost four-year break from advertising, and it was very positive. I think having less money has made me less focused on consumerism/consumption. It's a good change for me. If I think of something I want to buy, I try very hard to think of reasons why I might be better off without it. Sometimes it works. Every once in a while I come across something in my house - for instance, I have all matching wooden hangers in my closet - and I think: now there's a sign of a person who used to have too much money. (That was actually just OCD, but you understand what I mean.)

A month or so ago I donated probably 98% of my clothes to Goodwill. I ended up with about 4 pair of pants and a lot of t-shirts. (Literally.) I know the joke will be on me if I get another job where I have to dress up, but it is SO much more relaxing to go to my closet to get dressed now than it was before. I put some old blankets in my dresser drawers because they're empty! I've been overflowing into the garage with boxes of clothes for years. Silly.

Maybe I'm just trying to prepare myself for living on a teacher's salary? I don't know. I'm just trying to do ok with less, less, less. What does a girl really need besides good underwear, a few books, and a surfboard, anyway?

Surfing x 3

On Saturday the 12th I made it to the coast by 10, which was good because it really filled up and got crazy. It was a gorgeous day - warm air and blue sky. Jules went out for some personal surf time before my lesson, so I suited up alone and went down to meet her on the rocks by the water.

We had a good beach talk covering a few intense topics, including my comfort level going out alone (described at the end of this entry.) Her partner was there for part of our talk, laying on his back, spread-eagle, huffing and puffing, after a particularly intense session. He wanted to get up but couldn't. :) At one point he contributed a brief but very poignant comment to our discussion on a topic he knows well. Even though the beach talks are Super Secret Private Girl Talks, I really appreciated his contribution that morning.

We had a great time in the water, just a lot of fun - damn, Jules and I have a lot of fun in the water! - and I was doing really pretty good. My move was flowing and I was catching and standing up on pretty much every wave. I'd stand up, pivot, ride it in to the shore, fall off, and then walk back out to Jules with my board. We would kind of laugh and shake our heads together, just hanging out in the space of "Dude, I'm totally surfing" and enjoying it, wave after wave. Jules gave me small pointers, and I tried to listen, but I was just loving life and loving being able to catch waves so consistently. We even tried a green wave or two, if I remember correctly. All I know about those is that they feel real steep, like instead of riding horizontally, I'm more vertical. But that was just to play. We decided we'd wait for a real small day and paddle out to officially try green waves another time. For now I'm still practicing in whitewater (usually chest-deep.)

Jules knows I journal and blog about each session, although she doesn't read the blog, and encouraged me to title this entry, "The Sunglasses." She forgot her pair at one location and, because we were moving around the cove trying to find the best waves, had to leave me alone for a while to go back to a previous spot and retrieve them. While she was gone, I just did my thing I usually do - paddle, paddle, pop! . . . paddle, paddle, pop! . . . with pretty consistent success. At one point I looked down the beach and saw Jules quite far away, but walking back with her shades, and then I took another wave - paddle, paddle, pop! - and there it was, my best wave ever, my sandwich wave. Crazy, long, stable, feel that I'm a little too far back, scootch my feet a few steps forward, there - that's better, look up at the parking lot, and over at the trees, am I still riding this thing? What do I do now? Why does it keep going? I could pump my legs a little to see what happens. Ah, that makes it keep going. Wow, how long have I been on this thing?

Remember how surfing wasn't for me? I think it just might be.

When I finished the ride, I fell backwards into the water, got up, pumped my arms and jumped around a little, and looked around for Jules. A little embarrassing that I was so demonstrative about my excitement, but that was literally my best ride to date. That was exactly the ride I had been waiting a year to take. When Jules got back, I was so stoked I didn't even know what to tell her, but before I had a chance to try, she said, "Hey, you had your best ride!" It meant a lot to me that she'd seen it. My best ride ever. That was a great ride.

Near the end of the session, Jules administered some tough love about my signature dismount. She said, "You're doing your move, you're standing on every ride, you're letting go and rising up; you have it down. Now, for the love of god, stop falling off the back of your board to end the ride!" (Yeah, I don't know. I tried just jumping off and landing on my feet during my next solo session and jammed my knee a little. That's some shallow water I'm ending in. I know I need to figure something out, but I'm not sure what yet.)

Jules left after our session, but for the first time since last fall, I stayed for more. It was too beautiful of a day with waves too perfect to leave. I got out of the water for about 45 minutes, had a granola bar, and fell asleep laying on the rocks with my wetsuit down to my waist and one hand on my board. After my nap, I got back in for about an hour until I couldn't physically push myself up anymore and there was absolutely nothing left to ride! There were three of us sitting on our boards floating around looking at the horizon with not a wave in sight.

The day after that session, I had a great run at the local track. I'm usually on a bit of a high the day after a good session, and if it's a day I run, it usually means that I'll make good time on my first mile or something. This time I ran 5 miles without stopping and I maintained my pace pretty much the whole time. I've never run 5 miles before, so that's a really big deal for me. In the middle of that night I got up to go to the bathroom and my knees no longer worked, so I don't think I'll make a habit of it, but I was proud of myself.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Friday, June 18th, was my best day yet. I read the shop owner's surf report the night before and it basically said that it would be 5-6', and because of a noon minus low tide, the surf was going to be better either real early or late in the afternoon. I wasn't sure what to do, so I dropped Jules an e-mail because I really wanted to go out, but I usually think of 5' as my max, and minus low tides are tricky. Jules responded telling me that I'd be fine in 6' as long as I stuck with whitewater, and that I should definitely mind the tide, meaning to go early or late.

Jules' confidence in me boosted my own, and I ended up getting out of bed at 6:45 and leaving the house at 7:30. (That's like 4:00 AM for normal people.) I had a beautiful drive out to the coast - Jack Johnson kept me company and got me ready for a great sesh in the way only he can - and arrived to find just a handful of people at the cove. I was intimidated while suiting up. I started to play mind games with myself - thinking about how only the really good surfers are out in the mornings, and how at least during the day, I'm not the only person playing in the whitewater. At 9:00 AM I would stick out like a sore thumb.

I pushed through it and went out to find my spot. The sun was shining and the waves were truly gorgeous. They were definitely 5-6', and a tiny bit rough at times, but I didn't mind, as that helps propel me; my paddle muscles can only do so much! I stayed mostly at the north end of the cove (no rip that day), and just enjoyed wave after perfect wave with complete glass in between. I can't remember ever experiencing anything like it.

That day was magic. With one exception, I stood up on every single wave I took, and I took zillions of waves. I practiced scootching up and down the board quite a bit, which is a big improvement for me. I even took a couple of green waves. And most exciting, I noticed a real snap in my pop up. It was quicker, but not sloppy. Very controlled, and quite precise. Over and over. Push up with my arms, snap my body to my feet. Rise up with my heart. Stand tall and relax.

Every wave was perfect; it broke my heart I couldn't last ten hours. As I took wave after wave after wave, I started to realize, "This isn't a fluke. I'm doing it. This is happening." I thought of this session (makes me emotional to read that) when I finally let go and found my way. Jules had cried a little when I took my hands off the rails and rode on my feet for the first time, but I just shook my head in wonder and couldn't believe I'd done it. Well, that solo day, that Friday the 18th, was the day it hit me the way it hit Jules during the earlier session. After riding wave after wave consistently and feeling so peaceful, so totally peaceful and at home on my board in the water, it hit me and I got a little choked up. I thought of how I've been trying so hard for a year to do one thing, ride on my feet, and there I was doing it. I was emotional not just over my progress, but because I recognized that I had gone through some kind of letting go, of shedding the unwanted and the unnecessary. I still can't totally explain what happened, but that Friday was a good day for me. Surfing is so good for me.

I came home and wrote Jules an e-mail filled with exclamation points, run-on sentences, and the phrase, "I don't know how to describe it, but . . . " sharing the stoke with my favorite surf partner.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

This past Sunday, the 20th, the report was for 4-5' with light winds, and I was anxious to have another great session, so I headed out. But I didn't exactly get what I was hoping for. From an e-mail to a buddy afterwards:

I was ex-haus-ted emotionally but I slept the night before, so I thought I would be ok. It was really rainy and shitty out, and the waves were really choppy; it was just hard to find a consistent wave. Some were great and maybe 10 seconds, and then they'd be like one second apart, wave after wave. Nothing you could ride. I got some good rides in eventually, but mostly felt like I was getting tossed around, and I got tired fast. I only stayed in a little over an hour and finally admitted defeat and got out. As soon as I did, of course, it stopped raining, the sun started to come out, the waves started to break in a straight line, and lots of folks started to show up. It was almost eerie, like the exact opposite of good timing. I kept thinking about how after an early lesson, Jules told me that surfers believe that the ocean gives you exactly what you need every time you go out. I'm still trying to figure out wtf it was I needed that I got yesterday.

And then, of course, we have the craptastic session of yesterday, the 22nd. Glad I didn't know what was coming during my two great sessions before these! I think I'm figuring out that surfing is, like many things, two steps forward, one step back.

I will say that during these two recent bad surfs, I spent a lot of time moving around in the cove - noticing the strength of the rip on the north and the undercurrents and responding appropriately. I think this is an improvement over the past, when I would get in the water, feel the strong tug of an undercurrent, remember the sensation of the board hitting my head when I lost control of it that day last year, and turn around and get back out. These last few days I felt the pull, wanted to turn around and run, took a deep breath, and decided to try out a few spots in the cove before deciding what to do. This is much better, as both days there was a small current, and the rip came and went, but neither was very strong or unsafe. I think that taught me a little more about the cove and also helped me to continue to face my fears.

It's A Half-Afro

The forecast said sunny, so I went out for a mid-day surf. I have three sessions to catch up blogging about, but I have a lesson with Jules on Thursday, so I don't want to get further behind! I don't need to record every detail like I have in the past, but I do want to have a few memories written down from each surf session while I'm still feeling like each experience is so transformative.

Life is hard right now. I have some heavy stuff going on, and there is a lot of heavy stuff going on with my family. I am ridiculously emotional all the time. I am trying to be militant about my self care - jogging, yoga, Al-Anon, eating right, and, of course, surfing. But my efforts seem to be barely keeping up with the stress. Maybe I need to stop trying to outpace it and let it engulf me so I'm no longer afraid. Like the protagonist who faces capture by the villain and says, "Do your worst." Except that I'm not that feeling that brave. It's tough; I'm not going to lie.

In other news, I thought being emotionally needy and unemployed was the perfect combination, so I recently started accepting applications for Part-Time Lover. (I'm giving online dating another shot.) I went out with a guy on Saturday and it was not a disaster. (Dear Universe: if you think that makes up for all the shit you've thrown my way recently, think again.) We'll call him J. I've heard from J. three times today, so I think it went well for him, too. I have a date with another guy, we'll call him R., this weekend, and R. seems to be the exact opposite of J. (I'm just here for the buffet.) They're 10 years apart, but, sadly, both on the shorter end of things. We'll see. I'm not really looking for anything serious right now because I like doing only my own laundry, eating breakfast at 11, and reading blogs (not yours) on the toilet, but I thought it was wrong to not spread some of my sunshine around.

I should mention that I have 100 pounds of fairly curly hair that I very carefully blow-dry straight whenever I go out. It takes a long time and the result is tenuous, at best, but I only like it straight, and I don't belong to an 80's hair band, so that's what I do. I was very nervous on Saturday night so the light drizzle that fell while walking from the car to the restaurant didn't bother me much, but about 3/4 of the way through the date, I went to the restroom and found myself, for the first time since leaving home, in front of a mirror. Yes, the half-ro. The humidity turned my silky, golden locks back into the half-ro I was trying to hide. Ugh. What can you do? I mean, after hyperventilating, what can you do? I just went back to the table and tried to act normal. He'd already seen it. Overall, J. seems like a pretty good guy. Oh, and Scottish. With a little, tiny accent. And, no, that's not a height joke.

The waves were 3-4' today and they were breaking beautifully - pretty much in a straight line parallel with the shore. (When I'm out lately, every time, I think of the gulf oil spill and the pictures of those waves and those animals. How could I not?) I don't know, I just felt exhausted before I began, and never really got my groove on. That's actually an understatement. I didn't get one ride all the way in. Not even one. I got a couple short ones, but mostly I struggled to even get up. It wasn't about letting go - I didn't get that far. I was so frustrated. I kept thinking about my session last Friday (which I haven't written about, but it was goooooooood) and wondering if I imagined it. I tried for about an hour and then gave it up. But it wasn't the conditions because there were tons of surfers there and more showing up as I was leaving. You could feel the stoke in the air. Alas, no stoke for LSL. Not today.

I don't know. I'm just going to sit with it. What else can I do? There's something to be learned here, I can feel it, but it's not quite within my reach.

You Are Here

It was rainy at the coast on June 1st, but I was having an intense week and really needed a surf. Jules and I started our session with a beach talk up in the lot while I was suiting up, and we kept going as we made our way down to the rocks by the water. We spent almost an hour catching up and our time was honest, emotional, and raw. Our beach talks are all over the map - philosophical, theoretical, personal. Sometimes they're about surfing techniques. Sometimes they're about Russell Crowe. But this one was different from most and when we finished up, grabbed my board and waded into the water, I felt more connected to Jules than ever, and more connected to myself than I had been for weeks. At least.

My goal that session was to be gentle with myself - my progress, my abilities, my judgments. I always go into a lesson with a goal, and that day I knew it would be important to just take it easy on myself no matter how I did in the water.

Conditions were choppy and there was a bit of wind, and while the north end is usually better for days like that, we found a great spot at the south end of the little cove. The rain made the day dark, and the hills and trees around the cove were misty - it was different than I'd ever seen it before, and it actually reminded me so much of where I lived in Japan. The more I looked around and noticed how the weather was affecting our surroundings, the more I started remembering places and scenes from Japan. It was a little hypnotizing. And very calming. I can't really explain it, but I was transported that session and wouldn't have been surprised at all if Jules had started speaking Japanese to me. Since that day, I've been remembering little details of my life in Japan that I haven't thought of since I left Nihon-koku in 2006.

Jules and I had an awesome time together. Some days the motion of the water around me just feels even better than usual, and that day it was massaging me, gently grabbing my attention and saying, like a dot on a map, "You are here." I felt especially in tune with my board - I could feel it cradle my belly as I slid on top to get ready for a wave. And I felt so in tune with Jules. I can usually process very little of the feedback she gives me - I'm just excited and on sensory overload and it's all I can do to briefly listen to what she says and then forget it all and go slide on another wave. But this time I took in every little comment and tried to incorporate each adjustment into my next ride. She noticed I was holding my weight unevenly between my feet when standing, and after hearing that, I was able to settle myself differently and really feel the board under my front foot more. And Jules was crazy in tune with me, too, that day; at one point I took a sweet ride and I don't know why, but the wave was so loud and so clear - I felt like there was nothing on earth besides me and the water that was carrying me. That wave was whispering in my ear the whole ride. Afterwards when I got back out to Jules she said, "Your timing was perfect - you were really listening to the wave on that one." I still have no idea how she knew that. By the time I'm doing my thing, I think she's too far away to see my movements that specifically. And I'm not aware of her being able to read my mind . . . but you never know with Jules.

I felt so fluid that session. Not on every ride, but for most of them. I felt so gentle on my feet. My flow from belly to paddling to charging to rising to standing was one movement, slow and rhythmic. A long time ago when I would jump on the board and wobble, Jules would calmly say, "Find your center" and have me pause for just a moment before taking the wave. I thought of that every time I got on the board that day, even though I don't really wobble anymore. (I often think of that when I hop on, actually.) Find your center. And then when the wave comes, I go from that place.

I had several super-sweet rides that day, but a couple in particular that were long, smooth and steady, and just felt right. However, I continued to fall off the board in a back-flop in almost the exact same way, and the same side, every time I'm done with a ride, and Jules was getting over it. She said that as soon as I'm up, she can see that I'm preparing myself to fall and putting myself in position to fall that specific way. I knew what she meant, and I know it steals a lot from the ride. I can tell. But it's become a habit, and it's also a way of falling in a controlled manner in pretty shallow water, and falling in shallow water freaks me out. After another great ride ending in yet another back-flop, Jules told me to try a ride not preparing for how I would end it, but only focusing on the ride itself. Good idea. The very next wave I rode in, I stood up, pivoted, and thought of nothing but the wind on my face. And then god knows what happened because I did a head-first flip off the front of the board and somersaulted in the water several times before coming up to my feet. Total washing machine. Before I could even figure out where my board went I thought, Damn. Jules is going to love that one. And she did. I saw her smiling and cheering out in the water, and when I got back to where she was, I said, "I know you loved that one." And she said, "I did! Do you know why?" Yeah, Jules. I know why. I let go. (Did I ever.)

Jules has been telling me for months that I need to keep my hands out in front of me ("Like ka-ra-te" she says) after I pop up, instead of using my right hand to plug my nose. That's been confusing me because I never plug my nose with my hands. I've always been a swimmer and I've never in my life done that. But I knew she was right that I was doing something strange because my hands aren't free immediately after standing. So for one ride I specifically focused on my right hand - just trying to be aware of what the hell I was doing with it - and sure enough, I've got a little tic where I quickly wipe the water away from my nose the second I rise up. Quirky. And unnecessary. It feels great to be a tiny bit more aware of my body on the board - I guess just because so much of the whole thing is about awareness of my body with the board - and now I'd like to figure out how to change that habit.

The whole session was a dream. It was my best one yet skill-wise, we both agreed, and I just expressed my appreciation for all that Jules brings to our time together. Or is it what she doesn't bring? We talked about my comfort level of going out alone and how it's increasing as the softer summer waves come, and (this session and the next) we talked about the surf shop owner's enthusiasm for me to get out and meet other people and not rely so much on lessons. But I tried to explain - I don't rely on Jules' instruction like a crutch. At least I don't think I do. Jules is a very good surf teacher, and she has great feedback. But for me, she is more. She does more.

This is what Jules does: She helps me unzip my armor so I am ready to be affected - acted upon, influenced, changed. She helps me prepare my heart so that it's ready for all the ocean has to give. She helps me put my racing mind to rest so that I am there. She reminds me that my body is strong and capable, and then helps me remember to work with the water instead of against it. Jules helps me feel the currents and notice the tides inside myself so that I'm not a foreigner standing in an ocean, but a small part of a larger body. And I think more than anything she does, it's something about who she is: Jules is grounded. And that allows me to be myself. This is no small thing. Being able to be myself and bring my whole self to something so totally risky and that requires such letting go -- it's about the most fulfilling experience I've ever had.

I know you're not really supposed to talk about surfing because it doesn't translate well and you end up sounding goofy. But that was a great day surfing.