slow and low is the tempo * litha * midsummer We have officially entered upon the summer of ‘018 and the time of year when the legions of the ever so jazzed ramp things up a notch or two, and perhaps to the level of notorious if not nefarious at times. We’ve just finished up celebrating our International Surfing Day, and commenced upon the perennial endless summer. ‘Tis also international surf music and camping months, along with the just passed observance of the solstice and an international day of yoga, both falling upon the first day of summer and longest day of the year. And did we mention the not to be missed Go sk8boarding Day. And personal opinion not to the aside, can appreciate the beach clean ups and in my case benefits for Heal the Bay and the such, and still would be the more keen for a Surfrider Foundation and the like to ramp up their efforts in promoting a vegetarian diet in relation to our man bent environment, for the suggestion re: wearing hemp and og cotton clothing, to grow our own food, to ride the bike to work, and to move from “wishful” recycling to eliminating single use plastics and more. Surfrider has done fab if not phenomenal works in the legal arena and has brought a needed spotlight to water quality, albeit would love it if their next ISD (International Surfing Day) paid tribute to our Polynesian roots by not only bringing attention to our melting sea ice, but by way of our waverider population that lived by less rather than more, and that made the concerted effort to come together as ocean & earth guardians. |
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Case in point is any surfer worth his salt likely is much the more familiar with Bruce Brown’s Endless Summer than any gmo tomato with the same said namesake. As a surfer I am well in tune with by most accounts my fave season of the year. Am “slippery when wet” and more oft than not found “waterlogged.” And if I was Bruce Brown I would have followed up on just the such and “cycled” in season round the world in accord with this same said endless summer. And after Hollywood couldn’t sea the beauty and magic of my worldwide circumambulation, I hath decided to take my surf flick immemorial to none other than midwinter and snowy Wichita Kansas for two weeks of sold out multiple screenings, and again after Hollywood still failed to even feign interest in my iconic work I hath decided to then follow that up with a yearlong run in NYC. Our “endless summer” is nothing short of cultural waystation and impetus for the age old axiom, “dream your life, live your dream.” For many of us, surfing has been the soundtrack to our life. Whether surf, sex and rock ‘n roll, or some form of the surf beat rockabilly reverb via a facsimile of whammy bar and glissando, we all have reason to pay tribute to when Dick Dale met Leo Fender, and for the advent of the many “the” surf bands, i.e. the Ventures, Surfaris, Chantays, Deltones, Belairs, Challengers, Trashmen, Fireballs, Astronauts and Shadows. Our instrumental surf rock led to many a surf stomp and Hollywood Beach Blanket Bingo. And lest we not add the campout to this entreaty, as most any happy camper finds him or herself the more engaged and cognizant of sunrise and sunset, of songbirds and the great outdoors, and with the chance to sleep under the starlights. For the NorCal bioregion the not to be usurped overnighter is out to Big and/or Spanish Flat and out and about on the Lost Coast (to Needle Point). For the soul surfer we welcome the chance to get outta the office and to put our phone(s) down, to unplug and to find a semblance of peace with things. Unfortunately most any (real) surf trip involves the commission of planes, trains and/or automobiles, albeit any (real) surfer will come equipped with a tincture or coupla few of tea tree oil, duct tape, fishing line and a good supply of Skin So Soft from my local Avon lady. My brother slept on restaurant tables in order to stay on the cliff above Ulu, and in exchange for the promise to get massages and eat his meals there. For some of us we cherish meditation and share a love of nature, and while others of us are hell bent on diving deep into backwoods and backwaters. And then there are the sk8boarders, the ones that took the sidewalk out of surfing. Whether it be pools, parks, ditches or the local canyon culvert, and the full throttle Jay Adams or your local sk8 recluse with the neck tan, we all share the added benefit of just plain and simple getting outside when sk8ing. And again personal opinion not to the aside, am a fan of yoginis and think us surfers are something to the akin as we have come upon the “innermost limits of pure fun” and have touched upon “the morning of the earth.” We know rhythm and balance, harmony and synchronicity. It’s in our bones. We have a Reunion Island and our own “Santosha.” And like yogis of late, we are like emissaries found along the coast of oceans worldwide, and may have a time or coupla few have been the one with the all of it. We are grateful to be a surfer and cherish our connection with our ocean & earth, sun & moon. At this time of year we vow to take it slow and to stay low key and on the down low. We live and let go. We stay cool and know that things will ripen in accord with the natural rhythm and flow of life and as we know it. And for the if and when it gets hot ‘n heavy, we oft choose to slow down and get outside, to let the sunshine in and to let our lovelight shine, and as we move into the darkness like chocolate. We are Jack in the green room and get our glow on from within. We rededicate ourselves to our big blue and green mother ocean and reaffirm our sun goddess within and light the proverbial tiki torch without. We light candles and incense, drink the honey moon mead and elderflower champagne, and as the Holly King takes the baton from our (California Live) Oak King, we gather St. John’s and mugwort and light the beach bonfire. As the sun stands still for us, we real eyes ‘tis “always summer on the inside.” |
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The essence of surfing is simply just to go out and have some good ol’ clean fun. Just as the classic, quintessential surf scene has us wearing our big ol’ baggies at the surf stomp “surforama,” with woodies, beach palapas, and the “little grass shack” as backdrop, our rockabilly and rhythm and blues roots to our surf music well express the feeling of what it is to go surfing. We’re stoked! The “endless luau” or “hippie surfer, surf carnival,” is our creative antidote for “unsurfable” days. Tiki surf huts are our temples dedicated to our love of surfing. We’re “crazed.” Surfing families and whole villages use to drop everything to go surfing. Our “wave ridden surf culture” pays tribute to the “endless entity”, and our saviors, better known as “our breaking waves.” We make surf trips, have handmade surf totems, and are tiki collectors after any and all “surfiana.” It’s “surf city here I come!” Our life of leisure is nothing but “beach blanket bingo.” We are living life as a luau, and as just another day at the beach. Our beachside “magic kingdom” is never caught resting on its laurels. Our “summer of love” is full of sunshine, “good vibrations,” and summer romance. The “boys of summer” are a “legion of lovers” who fancy “hedonistic pursuit and distraction." As “merrymakers” they know how to have fun and are full of life and sexual vitality. They follow the “bohemian horde” from “hootenanny” to “corroboree,” and back home again to the “longhouse.” We are “romancing the sun” from sunrise to sunset with an “endless summer” of stories to tell. Under full sun we are energized and have an “endless zest and passion for life.” We are zany and lit up, and guaranteed our “place in the sun.” As free spirits we are alive and untamed, “exulting in tribal celebration,” with carefree abandon and an unharnessed joy. Shirts and shoes are not required, and you can really “let down your hair.” Our ocean children are toasty warm from the sun, refreshed by the sea, and cushioned by the sands of time. Caressed by oceanic breeze, we share a healthy camaraderie and are glad for our “sense of solidarity.” We have friends to fall back on and share our ocean dreams by way of our “daily diorama.” We are passionate about “stayin’ with the in crowd,” and make pilgrimage to the various communal shrines of our beach culture hamlets. There are beach bonfires and parties to be had, rife with the dark skin and rich complexion of summer love. It’s a regular, beach ballyhoo mardi gras, playing along to the soundtrack of our longshoremen lives. |
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Our fanatic appears content, but he’s a “counter dependent,” the usually male version of the better known “co-dependent.” He’s contracted “brodaditis.” He’s trying to be cool, but he’s really fried and on an “endless bummer.” He’s “Carless” Santana, without a car or much else in the way of work, and living with his mom, or he lives off his chick and friends. His deception leaves him on the outs, paying off the debt on his “misspent youth.” Misdirected, he makes no connection or peace with our “dearly beloved” ocean and earth. He’s a lost soul within an “aloof cult,” lost in our world of “disreputable indulgence.” His covetous ways and hoarding, miserly behavior lead to his loneliness. He’s a visionary, but mostly misunderstood. He’s out of season, out of sync, and out of style. Burnt out, he can’t accept the inevitable darkness of being. Left high and “dryfuss,” he suffices on junk food, junk sex, and worse yet, junk surf. |
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Stay connected. Spend a day in the water with your friends. Come into community. Good group juju builds charisma. Glow. Be the moon shepherd and light the way. Love and happiness is meant to be shared. It’s “not a thing to be owned or a goal to be attained, but rather a fleeting state to inhabit.” The essence of “ephemerality” is rooted in the pleasure principle. Feel your bliss. Make a wish for a “bloom to remain in blossom.” Be a friend to the end. Let people know they have a place in yours and our surfing world. Be accepting of all, including yourself. Knowing you belong makes you feel like you’re part of something. Host a potlatch luau. Give to others. Sharing flourishes in reciprocal social circles. Make give aways. Life is too short not to celebrate. Cut loose. Beat your drum to the driving surf beat. Music aids in your receptivity to your intuition. Sing healing songs. Share good times and good vibes. Pow wow. Cooperate. Choose life everyday. Live your life as an endless summer. “The underpinning of truth and soul is that feeling of a full day at the beach.” And make sure you take it with you, because it’s “always summer on the inside.” Awaken. “Unclothe your soul.” Frolic. Is your life going anywhere, or is it always just “fun in the sun?” Heat transforms and heals. Sundance. If you’re not barefoot and without a shirt, you’re overdressed. Explore your cultural heritage. Does your luau shirt or sundress brighten someone’s day? Feel good all over. Tikis represent ancient gods and magic. Travel and expand your horizons. Lead and follow. Contribute. Habitat restoration leaves you feeling fulfilled, and reminds us that, “the grass is not greener on the other side, the grass is greener where you water it.” |
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