Mixed Metaphors Ahead: Proceed With Caution

Life as surfing. Surfing as life. Lovely in the abstract, tiring otherwise. You have to work hard just to get to a place where there is the potential for something cool to happen, assuming, of course, impeccable timing, perfect balance and strong shoulders.

Copious amounts of energy are wasted on false opportunities--which waves are truly powerful and which are superficial. To get any good at surfing, or at life, you need to screw up gorgeous set after gorgeous set. Oblivious to your struggle, however, people on the left and right of you seem to take off with ease.

When I see and hear and feel the opportunity about to crash on to me, all I can usually muster is a faint "oh #$!@" as I am sucking into the power of events. I am a rock, I am an island. I am a floaty in some frothy, salty smoothie--power size, of course. Most of the time, something goes wrong--I paddle too weakly and miss the wave, I am not aligned correctly and go over the falls, or a myriad of other possibilities.

Solitude is impossible. The known spots are mobbed and people will murder to keep their secluded spots secret.

Board shorts are less about style and more about putting something, please, anything, between your legs and a board that loves to rip out hairs. The devil truly is in the details. And there is plenty of space for him. Wax that retains enough sand to become 20 grit sandpaper, the waves just small enough to avoid notice but big enough to smash the board in your face, and the leash with the rusted swivel that coils around your leg as if it were a snake on a plane.

Both have inherent trade-offs. I would say normally I rarely pee on myself. I especially avoid doing so in the company of friends, even if I am cold. However, cold or not, I always managed to locate a jetstream somewhere nearby.

Moreover, real mortal danger is all around you--the guy that beat on my car window the other day or the rip tide pulling me out to sea, my plane being blown up by chapstick or a wave pinning me to a sharp and jagged reef.

Still, I enjoy the ride. Last week I paddled out with a few friends in a nice secluded spot, let out a few howls for friends' sweet rides, and caught a few myself. The water was warm (on its own), the sets were rolling in nicely, and as the last bit of dusk was fading away, we made the long paddle back.

A pile of bills, an unfinished RFP, a belly that refuses to stop expanding, and a bakers dozen of bad habits await me. I think only, "God help me. The ocean is so big and my boat board is so small."

from » common-life-issues-as-cliched-insights dept