A youthful mind is seldom totally free from ambition; to curb that, is the first step to contentment, since to diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment.
Ever since I was old enough to fantasize about my own future I dreamed of surfing. Years on end I pictured myself jumping into the ocean as if it were my back yard; ducking underneath the foamy waves, the salty water washing over my face as I open my eyes to the next oncoming wave, then effortlessly launching myself into a liquid turquiose barrel of bliss. The sun shining. My body bare. The water warm. My countenance a reflection joyous ease. It was my escape, the greener grass on the other side of my beachless inland existence. I promised myself that one day I would make this fantasy my reality.
Well, at fucking last, here I am. 23. Making it happen. What's happening is not the fantasy, but the brutal reality of this captivatingly invigourating experience of taking on the ocean. She's not your friend. She owns you, and she will beat you, and spit you out. You must gain her respect, visit her often, and take all her bullshit. Only then, will this divine diva allow you moments of synergy between your puny form and her almighty gusto.
This week I've been wiped out by a tiny shore break, stung silly by blue bottels, and had my leash ripped off my leg by waves that plant panic into every nook and cranny of your body.
This week I stood up for the time on my board, saw a sunset so beautiful, it is a shame to try and put it into words, and I watched from the shore perfect waves barreling, churning wih power and grace, while people who have deserved the honour, rode them, and I felt myself elated in their moment. Waiting for mine.
Surfing is not for pussys. I did not know I was a pussy until I started surfing. I plan on rectifying this pussyness....one reason for this....
Well, at fucking last, here I am. 23. Making it happen. What's happening is not the fantasy, but the brutal reality of this captivatingly invigourating experience of taking on the ocean. She's not your friend. She owns you, and she will beat you, and spit you out. You must gain her respect, visit her often, and take all her bullshit. Only then, will this divine diva allow you moments of synergy between your puny form and her almighty gusto.
This week I've been wiped out by a tiny shore break, stung silly by blue bottels, and had my leash ripped off my leg by waves that plant panic into every nook and cranny of your body.
This week I stood up for the time on my board, saw a sunset so beautiful, it is a shame to try and put it into words, and I watched from the shore perfect waves barreling, churning wih power and grace, while people who have deserved the honour, rode them, and I felt myself elated in their moment. Waiting for mine.
Surfing is not for pussys. I did not know I was a pussy until I started surfing. I plan on rectifying this pussyness....one reason for this....
I. want. to. be. in. a. fucking. barrel.
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