|
DON'T SEEK TO
FOLLOW IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF SLATER. SEEK
WHAT HE SOUGHT.
"I don't know how I appeared to the
world, but to myself I seemed as a small
boy playing on the water's edge, seeking
a shell or pebble more brilliant than
the last, and the whole ocean of truth
stretched out before me" - ISSAC
NEWTON
Kelly and Tom have just been on a little
exploratory mission up a river on one of
the myriad of islands we pass each day.
Tom's videotaped the whole thing and as
soon as they get back to the boat, he
whacks it on the TV for us all to watch.
Someone chucks in a Café Del Mar CD and
it's atmospheric, primal percussion
sounds like it was composed especially
for the footage. And as we watch, caught
up in the images of the jungle and
river, and the ambient soundtrack, I
sense we're watching something more than
a couple of blokes on a dinghy up a
river... |
|
"The life on tour is pretty
exciting. There's always a lot of stuff
happening. It's really easy to get
caught up in thinking that's what life's
about, you know, to not be excited just
by everyday life," Kelly will tell
me some days later, reflecting on his
absence from the pro tour.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm missing
out a bit on pushing myself. But then,
I'm probably more healthy, physically
and emotionally and, at this point in my
life, that's more important."
Kelly sits on the bow of the dinghy as
it slowly edges upstream into this
dense, teeming jungle. He holds a rough,
hand carved wooden paddle in his hands,
dipping it's tip into the brown river
water to form a perfect tube in it's
wake. The video camera focuses in on the
little barrel so deftly created - a tiny
spinning vortex in the wake of the boats
passage. The dinghy approaches a fallen
tree trunk that blocks its progress. All
manner of jungle debris has gathered in
the lee of the tree - leaves, branches,
seed pods - forming a kind of natural
dam. Kelly climbs out of the boat and on
to the fallen tree, surveying the
surrounding jungle curiously. The dinghy
recedes and the lean, tanned figure in
vivid blue boardshorts is left standing
uncertainly in the midst of all this
rampant nature. There is not a scrap of
plastic or man made refuse among the
jungle debris, nothing inorganic, and
only the fabric of his shorts stands out
from all the pervasive earthy tones of
jungle green and mud brown - a small
speck of humanity dwarfed by the
overwhelming natural world. With thick
stubble and a deep tan from a week out
on the ocean, he looks every inch a
native. All of a sudden, he's not a
six-time world surfing champion, not a
surf poster pin-up boy… just a person.
Small, vulnerable, exposed, but
strangely relaxed, hemmed in on all
sides by this uncaring vegetation, over
sized palms and overhanging vines. Less
threatening, perhaps, than the leering
looming autograph hunters or television
cameras that press in on him back in
that other world - the world of contests
and swarming media and surf shop promos
- a world that, at this moment, seems a
million miles away, unimaginable in its
hollow posturing. There is some kind of
relief, some peace, to be found in the
jungle - which would unknowingly swallow
him up and leave him here to rot into
compost, draw him into the inalterable
cycles of decay and life like any other
entity, mindless of his fame. And right
now, it seems like that kind of
anonymity is exactly what Kelly Slater
craves. The whole little expedition, a
flat day diversion during the latest leg
of The Quiksilver Crossing, seems to say
something about Kelly's current
circumstance - open, inquiring, curious,
uncertain. The river is often used as a
metaphor for the journey of
self-knowledge all of us are on. The
tree presents an obstacle to further
progress - and Kelly accepts the
temporary delay easily, peacefully,
taking the opportunity to step outside
his safe place and inspect his
surroundings, get in touch with the
natural world, the great unknown, the
unknowable...
Weird how all this soul searching is
going on even as the whole world still
watches, via internet, on the specially
launched "Kelly Slater - Outside
the Boundaries," website, where
daily feeds of words, digital photos and
video clips are beamed back to a surfing
world hungry for news of its greatest
champion. It's trippy to be a part of
this expedition that broadcasts a daily
record of its progress, each night, from
our boat anchored off a deserted
tropical island somewhere in the Indian
Ocean. Our skipper, Albert, gets up on
the wheelhouse roof with the satellite
antennae and moves it around, risking
radiation poisoning, while George, the
internet technician, checks the
reception on the Sat-phone inside the
wheelhouse. "Two bars, three bars,
two bars", George observes, as
Albert scuffles about the roof trying to
find the best reception.
Kelly is not oblivious to the irony, or
ethical dilemmas, of this kind of
promotion of the great wilderness of
surf experience. "I guess if you're
a real purist at heart, a true soul
surfer, what we're doing here is like
the devil's work," he tells me.
Days before, we'd come upon a right hand
point break that a guy and his
girlfriend on a yacht had to themselves.
They didn't seem to mind, but Kelly's
sensitive to the intrusion. "Like,
we pulled up and surfed and there were
people there just having fun and we pull
out the jet-skis and we have
photographers who are downloading to the
internet, and this guy thinks he's got
some spot no one knows about."
It's hardly surprising that he's become
suspicious of the machinations of the
probing media world that has made his
life such a goldfish bowl. Everyone
wants to know Kelly, what makes him
tick, where he's at, what he wants,
where he's headed. Thing is, those are
the very same questions that seem to be
dominating his thoughts these days. Fame
is no promoter of self-knowledge -
perhaps exactly the opposite. We get
talking about astrology one day and I
mention that your late 20's are known as
the "Saturn Return," an age
when a lot of people try to "sort
themselves out" or start asking the
big questions about life and their role
in it, and make major changes. Kelly is
29. "I think I'm generally a couple
of years behind." He reckons, as if
the artificial clammer and hype of pro
tour life has impeded his emotional
development. But not anymore… Kelly
arrives at the harbour to board this leg
of the Quiksilver Crossing riding on the
roof of a mini-bus, with his board bags
and a couple of locals, like any other
dusty Third World traveler. It's this
desire to step outside his cocoon and
just experience life, as the rest of us
do, without special treatment, that he
seems to crave right now - like Jim
Carey in the Truman Show - sailing to
the edge of the world's largest TV
studio, and stepping outside into the
unknown world. Yet, like Truman, he's
still being watched even out here.
"I think my next challenge is just
personal stuff for me," he says,
thoughtfully, towards the end of the
trip. "Trying to get to a more open
place in my life, like on a personal
level." More peace, I suggest?
"More peace, a place where…"
he pauses to find the words "I want
to have kids and stuff. I mean, I have a
daughter, but I want to have a proper
family and that environment, and be
excited by that every day I wake up.
It's sort of the challenge getting back
to that place and letting go of
attachments to that other world, finding
a happy medium but being most fulfilled
by the family stuff and that more simple
life. I definitely have glimpses of
it," he says. |
|
I've been waiting to bust out the tape
recorder all trip - to be honest - and
find out what's on Kelly's mind these
days. "He likes to give himself
maximum space," Tom advises me
early on. There are two boats, Indies
Traders 1 and 2 - one for media and one
for surfers - perhaps to give him just
such space. Kelly comes across as
stand-offish, private, though I've met
him plenty of times before. I decide not
to push it, not force myself on a
reluctant subject. I watch him surf, nod
a hello in the water once or twice each
day, and I just sit back and enjoy the
show. He's amazing. I don't think you
can exaggerate his talent. They all rip,
produce moments of pure poetry and power
on the waves, but Kelly's on a mission
of his own. He lays down some beautiful
lines and soars through some hair
raising tubes and, whenever the
opportunity presents itself, he's
hurling into enormous aerial flips at
the end of waves, or off whatever
suitable launching ramps appear. I've
never seen anyone get so consistently
high and remain in control and attached
to their board, and stay composed
through spins and inversions the way he
does. He's regularly landing six foot
high and wide 360 loops, with various
twists - often on the back of the wave,
because he's up there so damn long the
wave passes him by. But he's working on
that - just got to find the right bit of
lip, to project himself out in the
direction of the breaking wave.
So, I bide my time, enjoy the trip, wait
for a window to appear or a dropping of
the walls. I've just about given up,
towards the end of the trip. When the
decision is made that one boat has to go
in early, and the other will wait out
here for swell, it seems my chance is
lost. I'm on Indies 2 heading back to
port and Kelly's on Indies 1, waiting
for the swell. The two boats are going
to travel together through the day to
another lefthander, where we'll be
having a last surf before heading in,
and my trip feels pretty much over, as
that strange sense of vacuum that comes
at the end of something envelopes me,
and I start to contemplate my other
life, back home. As the two boats lift
anchor, for no apparent reason, Kelly
jumps off 1 and swims to 2, perhaps to
travel in greater comfort. I'm surprised
when I find him lying on the couch
reading a golf magazine. A window, I
figure. Funny how, when you let go of
things, the universe lets you have them.
I don't know how you imagine these surf
star interviews take place. I've been
doing this stuff now for 15 years, but
I'm strangely nervous as I approach him,
sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in
how to improve his drive. "Excuse
me, Kelly, I don't know if this is a
good time, but I'd really like to ask
you a few things about your surfing
during the trip," I offer, as
gently and politely as I can. I'm
probably going overboard, but the guy
seems so over the whole media thing, I
fear he might just let fly and unload
all that built up resentment and
contempt for the great media machine in
one great purging at the first site of a
tape recorder. He swings lightly into a
sitting up position with a smile and
throws down the golf magazine.
"Sure, no problem," he answers
breezily. Easy as that.
Sorry to disappoint the voyeurs amongst
you, but there are no questions about
Pamela Anderson - we talk mainly about
surfing and design, a bit about his
hopes and ambitions for the future, and
as much personal reflection as he
willingly offers up. I can't pretend to
have some amazing insight into the
six-time world champ, but I can tell you
a few things.
He's been surfing regularly with
Christian Fletcher, that great aerial
rebel of the late '80's and early '90's.
He's also been getting a lot of
inspiration from skaters like Tony Hawk.
He's been getting into yoga, goes to two
classes a week when he can, but would
like to make it three. He honestly
doesn't know if he's going to make a
comeback to the pro tour. He's pulled a
few aerial flips and is working on
perfecting the manoeuvre and a number of
spinning variations, like the rodeo
clown. The ability to regularly land the
futuristic moves at will appears to be
not too far away. He wants to find new
materials for his boards, so they don't
break and are less toxic. He's inspired
by the thought, "What can I do to
leave this sport better than when I got
here?" He wants to develop new fin
designs because he reckons all our fins
are letting us down. He wants to write
surfing guides, to try to articulate the
complex feelings and body mechanics that
create good surfing, to communicate that
to others and help them advance their
own surfing. Most significantly, and
most commendably, I reckon, he seems
absolutely determined to wean himself
off the constant stimulation and
distractions of the pro surfing
lifestyle and all its associated
weirdness, like an addict coming off his
fix, and be able to live a life of
relative normality, appreciating the
everyday. Which may prove his greatest
challenge. The flips, in comparison to
the great quest for self-knowledge and
inner peace, seem downright simple.
|
|
"You just have a wave that projects
you the right way, or you've got to come
more vertically at it," he
explains. "If you don't come
vertically at it you can't really get
the boost out away from the lip, so I
don't know, it's just going to take some
time really practicing. I don't think
it's too far off . I think some guys are
already pulling some flips. For me it's
just going to take sitting there and
doing it over and over again. Since I've
started trying flips, I haven't had many
good sessions where I've just tried and
tried them. About six or eight weeks ago
I had a session at Straddy where I was
just trying and trying them and I pulled
a back flip right off the bat. I got
five waves in a row where I was trying
them and almost making them and I'm
going, oh, it's going to happen today
for sure. And as soon as I thought that,
the wind blew up and I got freezing cold
and I had to go in."
|
What sort of waves are good for flips?
"Straddy's really good for them.
Macaronis is good, has a good shape to
it. You want somewhere that's steep but
not too hollow, that's got kind on a
vertical face but it's not a gnarly
wave. It might be hollow but it's kind
of thin lipped. A beach break would be
best for it, like an onshore beach
break, kind of steep but not really
barreling."
His understanding of technique, of the
curves of waves, and the flight and
hydro-dynamics of board and the effects
of wind, are staggering. He has
obviously thought about this stuff a
great deal. "Sometimes I go do an
air on an offshore wave and if I don't
grab right away, the boards gone. But
then you've got to start trying
different airs. If you're going down the
wave frontside and the wind's offshore
you can actually hit and rotate off that
wave, reverse. If it was a dive it would
be like doing a Gayner, like a front
flip, going back into the wind, to let
the wind push the board against you. So,
you've really got to think about the
curves of the wave and the wind to.
"It just takes practice. If I had
the right wave and a bunch of guys who
were into doing aerials, I think in a
week or two weeks time we would have
pulled a flip off, if we just go out and
try it everyday." Kelly's almost in
awe of Tony Hawk and his technical and
creative mastery on a skate ramp.
"I was at this video game
convention and Tony Hawk was there and
they had a ramp set up and… these guys
were doing the craziest stuff. They were
doing these twist and flips and stuff
and they knew exactly what was going on.
I'm sure there was a time when no one
had done a 540. Tony's done three 900's
now or five or something. He's 33 or
something, he was like a superstar in
skating by the time he was 15."
There are obvious parallels in their
careers, and Kelly seems similarly
gripped by determination to be expanding
the possibilities for some years to
come.
This trip was originally conceived as a
tow-in trip, but when the swell didn't
co-operate, Hawaiian Dave Kalama - the
Jaws pioneer and top windsurfer - showed
them how to use the straps and the speed
off the skis to launch windsurfing style
loops and flips with ease. "It's
inspiring to watch Dave too because Dave
can pull in, hit the lip and do airs
with the straps on and he's got the
rotations down, you know. And just on a
normal board without straps he's not an
aerial guy, but he's just real
comfortable with it. He's used to a lot
of speed and power on bigger waves, so
when you have that you're less
intimidated by things to try and pull
them off." |
|
What other aerialists inspire him?
"Everyone's got their own approach.
There's a lot of different guys. Ozzie
Wright does a lot of different grabs and
stuff. Christian Fletcher, I've been
surfing with Christian a lot, and he
tries all kinds of different airs. He's
really inspired by Snowboarding and
Skateboarding and Motocross. Timmy
Curran's been doing, like, Superman airs
where he actually pulls the board out
from under him like that (he holds an
imaginary board out at arms length) and
pulls it back under him.
"Christian's into doing judo airs
where he grabs and kicks his foot out.
There's a whole lot. We, as surfers,
take off on a wave and do a bottom turn,
off the lip, cutback, look for the tube,
and if that's all you're doing, you're
not thinking about a mute or an indie or
a stalefish or a judo or a superman air
or some kind of flip. It's all about
keeping that fresh in your mind."
So, how is Christian, and how do these
unlikely surf buddies come to be hanging
out together? "I think people
really didn't understand Christian,
myself included. I think Christian
brought a lot of that on himself because
he was just a rebellious kid and he was
doing drugs and he didn't know what his
direction in life was… He was probably
ahead of his time. He definitely was,
with trying shorter boards, and he was
into just trying stuff, and people
weren't. People were like, you've got to
have more rocker and you've got to have
narrower boards, and Christian went,
'Stuff that', you need a shorter, wider
board so you can bust air. The guy calls
me up daily and says, 'Let's go surf,'
and its cool because Christian and I
never hung out. We were like the
opposite ends of the spectrum and now
it's cool. We're like, let's go surf.
He's good, he's solid. He wakes up at
daybreak everyday and goes surfing, and
he's super into it, snowboards and
skates and wake surfs."
So, does all this free-form
experimentalism, outside the competitive
arena, make him ponder that age-old
question - is surfing sport or art?
"They're two different things.
There's a difference between sport and
art, for sure. Sometimes I want to go
out and I don't want to be around
anyone. I don't want to have people see
me. I just want to experience what's
happening. And other times I want to
perform for people. And they are two
different things and they are both
valid. There's no right or wrong...
"There's other things that inspire
me too, like technique and trying to put
down on paper in words what you feel
when you're surfing. What exactly is
happening, so that someone can read it
and before they even go out and surf
they have an idea, oh, and if I get in
that position can I be doing a better
turn or a more efficient move or a more
flowing style? So I think about that a
lot."
Then there are his pet topics - fins,
surfboard design and new materials. Get
him started on the intricacies of fin
design, foils and hydro-dynamics and you
could be there all day. "I do a lot
of designing, fin designing. I actually
think that most of the fins we have
suck. I think most of the fins that
people are riding are failing them like
most of the fins I've ever ridden in my
life. Tom and I were talking about how
intuition has played the biggest part in
designing fins and stuff and that's good
to a point. And we've tried so many
different aspects and now it's got to be
a little more scientific, you know. And
I got here and broke three boards in my
first three sessions, so I need better
materials in my boards. That's a given.
We've been riding the same materials for
30 years, more, and they're not good.
It's almost like aeroplanes have been
the same for 50 years and they need a
change too, but everyone's comfortable
because it makes money, that is what
people are used to, this is the accepted
thing, so we'll keep making the same
equipment..."
Then there's the vexed question of flex,
which has clearly been taking up a good
portion of his mind power. "I've
been thinking about flex a lot lately.
People have always thought - is flex
good or is flex not good? I think flex
creates feel, but when I got here, like
just grabbing my boards I felt like they
were too flexy, too soft and giving too
much away. And then they all broke. I
felt like when I pushed there was too
much give in them and I wasn't getting
back the power I was pushing against. It
was like, the more a board flexes, the
more of your power you're giving away.
It's like you're releasing it. Is that
trampoline effect really stored energy?
Do you get it all back? It's all feel,
and it's all give and take. Like the old
school guys (in tennis), McEnroe and
Connors and those guys, everyone had
loose strings, it was all about feel,
putting English on the ball, all about
spin and stuff. Nowadays they're all
about power and they use tight strings.
It's just the way the sport has gone,
every sport, every thing you do has give
and take. "I've thought maybe the
perfect board would be one that's flat,
the fins are sucked up into it, and when
you go to turn it flexes to reveal the
fin so you have more fin. I had this
dream one day that would be the perfect
surf board. Like a body board, it
flexes, but it's geared to flex only to
a certain point, where the tail can only
flex to two and a half inches of tail
rocker, and then you don't have the drag
because the fins are sucked back up into
the board. That would be pretty
interesting.
"I just think generally things that
are simpler work better. The more
rocker, the more concave, the more stuff
I have on the bottom of my boards, it
doesn't work as good. I've asked Al
(Merrick) to tone my boards down a lot
in terms of the amount of concave, and I
still felt like I was popping out of the
water when I was doing turns."
If I were to venture a prediction into
Kelly's future, it would be that he
plays a pivotal role in introducing new,
less toxic materials to surfboard
production, and helps spread a new
cleaner, greener consciousness in the
board industry. He has a clear passion
for the subject and an almost missionary
zeal. "In an article Nick Carroll
wrote once, he pointed out all the
chemicals, an astounding number of
chemicals you can't even pronounce, and
what their effects are on the body and
the environment and the breakdown of
them and how long it takes. And one
surfboard being glassed and how much
resin is being wasted. I'm just
guessing, but probably twice as much
resin is used to make a surfboard than
is necessary. So think of the number of
surfboards that are made. Then, all the
cloth that's wasted. It's astounding. It
made me feel really guilty about how
many boards I ride. It made me feel bad
about being a surfer in a way. This guy
was talking to us about how weak the
cloth is that we use, and asked why
don't we use a pre-wetted cloth and
vacuum bagged boards. He just laughed,
'you surfers are stuck in the dark
ages', and I think we are.
There's a common argument that the pro
tour is to blame for the stagnation in
surfboard design - that the best surfers
and shapers in the world are so
pre-occupied with the blinkered task of
creating boards to win
three-to-the-beach heats, true progress
is stifled. Kelly's not having any of
it. "I think that's a cop out. I
don't think that's what the tour wants
to be. I don't think that's the purpose
of what the tour's trying to be, but
because of the judging system that's
what it becomes to people. But I
definitely think there's a lot of room
for improvement. I think it has become
comfortable because there's a certain
way of doing things and this works so
well, we'll stick with it. I think
there's going to be revolutionary
changes to what the world tour is. I
don't know if I feel like going over it
right now.
|
|
"I've surfed a lot of my best waves
in the midst of the ASP world tour.
Maybe I've surfed my best waves, my best
performances on waves on the world tour,
so I'm not going to say that it stifled
me. I think it's up to each individual
to search that out. We have down time.
You have to go out and find something
else that inspires you. If you're not
doing that, you're kind of just
following what's happening, then no one
really wants to be there, But when
you're in the right frame of mind, it's
really easy to be anywhere. You just
view things a different way."
|
I ask him what the longest period is
he's ever gone without having a surf.
"Thirty five days," he replies
quick as a flash. When was that?
"'97 I think, doing music stuff
with Rob and Peter King. I was in
California, it was kind of cold, I
didn't feel like surfing." Did he
miss it? "I was a little antsy. I
was real stoked to get back in the
water. The first surf I had after that
was in Hawaii, six foot north, onshore.
I was so stoked to be out - it was nice,
it was good in a way, to take time out.
When you come back you have to work to
get back to where you were and that's
kind of exciting."
This reminds me of another great
champion who walked away from the pro
tour in a quest to make things feel new
again, Mark Occhilupo. Kelly seems in
search of that same freshness, the
"beginner's mind" martial arts
masters call it, when everything is new
and a whole new world of possibilities
opens up. Kelly knows the feeling.
"Like playing the guitar, sometimes
I can't picture how I can improve. I'm
not saying I'm good. Sometimes you get
to this level where you say, okay, I'm
playing my best for my level and it's
not until you learn something else that
you start to go, God, I don't know
anything. You think, oh, I've played
every chord progression, or whatever,
and then you learn something else about
the guitar or even about music. Even the
best guitar players, this friend of
mine, the best guitar player I know
probably, he says, sometimes I feel like
I know everything I can know about the
guitar, and then all of a sudden I learn
something else and I feel like I don't
know anything. That's a real lesson in
humility."
Is it challenging for him to try and
feel that way about surfing, to
cultivate the beginner's mind when it
comes to riding waves? "I think
sometimes, I definitely could say there
are times when I've bought into sort of
like..." he pauses. The Kelly hype?
"Yeah, and then the nature of the
world can just wake you up to that right
away. It might be four or five minutes
or it might be five months, but then
sure enough something's going to put you
back in your place and make you realise
how much better life is when you don't
think like that."
Is there much he misses about the tour?
"Sometimes I miss that excitement
of, like, the - not even so much the
tour but just the first time doing
something. That happened a lot on tour.
I always had these goals. I was always
trying to accomplish them and each time
I accomplished them it was new."
So, where does he look for guidance in
this quest to embrace the everyday,
appreciate a simple life outside the pro
surfing spotlight? Religion?
Spiritualism? "I'm not very
religious, most anything religious kind
of turns me off. That's not to say I
don't believe, it's just that organised
religion kind of tweaks things for its
own gain. It creates more lines than it
erases. I think just looking at families
and people I respect, looking at their
families and the way they work. The way
people I look up to live their lives,
and spending time with them you start to
pick up on a little bit of that.
"I love yoga - I'd like yoga to be
like a three time a week thing for me.
It hasn't been yet, but I know it. |
|
needs to be. Sometimes I've gotten into
it twice a week and I feel really good.
Like anything in life, it needs to be
maintained. Like surfing, your body,
your relationships, everything in the
world needs maintenance. I've got this
friend at home who teaches yoga. She's
really inspiring. She keeps on me.
She'll call me - get to class
today."
The trips nearly over. Everyone's saying
their goodbyes. "I've got a little
observation for you," Kelly
announces out of the blue. This is it, I
figure. The great pronouncement, the
profound truth and insight into the
meaning of life, this whole trip has
been building up to. "Your back
foot is kind of turned out. You need to
turn your toes in more," he
explains, seriously. Huh? Kelly Slater's
been watching me surf? And wants to give
me some pointers? I don't know if I'm
flattered or embarrassed. "When
your foot's turned out and you crouch
you're loosing power," he
demonstrates, showing how my knees go
out in opposite directions when I bend
them, like a bow legged cowboy. I
cringe. He turns his back foot in.
"This way, you open your whole body
up to the line of the wave and when you
crouch," he demonstrates again, and
both legs bend forward in parallel,
along the line of the stringer, like an
alpine snowboarder, "the power is
projecting you forward."
It's a simple thing, but opens up a
whole discussion of body mechanics and
surfing technique that also draws in Tom
to the earnest forum. Kelly has me stand
in a relaxed pose while he pushes me
with one finger in the chest and the
middle of my back, alternately, to see
how my weight is balanced over my feet,
while Tom walks around me muttering like
a physician making a weighty diagnosis.
These guys are all-time. They know
things about surfing I've never even
thought of - and they seem to enjoy
nothing more than imparting this wisdom
to a willing student. "Most
surfers, their weight is back over their
heels," Kelly explains.
"You've got to imagine your weight
is distributed over four points, at the
heel and ball of both feet." He
slouches into a kind of Tai Chi slouch
to demonstrate, dropping his weight into
his lower body, the upper body loose and
free. I start to get a feel for it, and
my legs seem somehow energised, more
alive.
I get home from the trip and my regular
world is subtly altered by the time on
the boat. I go for a little beach break
surf and begin trying to turn my back
foot in, as advised, and can't believe
how difficult it is to make such a small
adjustment, but I begin to get the
feeling of where it could take me. And,
yes, there's that sensation - the
beginner's mind - the sense that
suddenly I don't know anything, that my
whole surfing life up to this point has
been a floundering beginning, that true
communion with the ocean still lies
ahead of me. And for that I'm truly
grateful.
Kelly talked about getting into a more
open place, of learning to give. I'd say
he's getting there.
|