Where Do You Max Out?

 Comfortable on a Small day at Bells Point, Martha's Vineyard, MA

There seems to be an unspoken rule among serious surfers in Northern California that respect can only be gained by charging the biggest waves possible. This is scary on many levels.  Maybe its a competitive paranoia that I posses, but the need to go big, BIG, BIGGER, seems to be well ingrained in surf culture and it certainly seems to be reinforced by the hyper-adrenaline infused media.

I've been surfing up and down Highway 1 for the past four years and still get butterflies every time the swell surges to 8+ feet. I grew up in Massachusetts, started surfing at age 17, and swim as gracefully as a cat-nipped up Siamese kitten. I have no business paddling out at Mavericks. Ever.

I feel a burning desire to push myself to the next level, but where do my abilities max out?  From the adrenaline overdose and ensuing numbing fear that I've experience on double overhead days at Ocean Beach, well I seem to have found it.  Maybe that's what growing up is all about: pushing your potential, while maintaining the awareness and intuition to call it a day, crack a beer and relax on the beach when things get beyond your comfort zone.  And to be honest, I'm okay with that.

Opportunity Knocks When The Mind is Engaged

I’m hit by a small wave of electric euphoria as I pace around the monstrous mountain home saddled in the valley outside of Park City.  I’ve been back from Burning Man for a mere six days and there’s a chance that the event, whether or not I felt it at the time, has inspired a bit of creative thinking and vision as I begin brainstorming where to align my energy in the near future.

You know how they say-- you never know when opportunity will knock at your door? Well, it happened to me quite literally the other day.  Heidi with Roots of Peace knocked on my door at our Sausalito office while in search of another address- and during our brief encounter- I learned of her fantastic “land mines to vines” non-profit.  When I told her what we do, she exclaimed that she just so happened to be looking for a PR firm herself. Cool initiative, cool lady, great coincidence I thought to myself.

Then, early the next morning, I met Pops.  A PHD at the American University (his real name is Terry Sankar), Pops is an enlightened French Guiana transplant who moved to NYC a couple decades ago to follow his passion for painting.  During his studies at NYU he was fascinated by “white people’s willingness to part with money for a piece of paper with some color on it” and decided to steer his studies toward psychology.  The dominoes since then lead him to emerge as a forefront mind in wind & alternative energy, and spearhead a wind turbine design project which has potential to rock the field as we know it.

The spark in my mind was ignited by the realization that my current skill-set and values may just have found a prospective niche.  Small start-ups such as these need more than publicity; they need an inspired participant and voice to help introduce their products, explain the greater missions and drive sales.  These are all needs that I can absolutely fulfill.  The path is never straightforward or easy, but it’s exciting when a potential course unveils itself and a malleable bearing can be set. 

The Session Resumes

                             A left in Big Sur. Photo Credit- Jeff Howard

I broke my nose again. It's not a big deal, but it has kept me out of the water for over a week. Before that I was surfing semi-regularly. One of those days involved a dreamy, cold left-hander in Big Sur. And before that, I went to Mexico for a wild solo adventure in Sayulita and a wedding in Pueto Vallarta-- but that was after I met a lovely and charming young lady.

Photo Credit- Jeff Howard

Well, really, a whole heap of experiences have come and gone since I last threw words down this dusty corridor of information. None of which have been lacking flavor, spice and intrigue. It's just that, well, I neglected the arts.

That tends to happen when you're preoccupied with work, the rich nectar of romance and challenging yourself to growth mentally and "just be" in the moment. These things dominate time and energy. Anyway, that romance has lead me back to the art, because it is art in itself, and thus breeds more art.

The art has been in the form of a dome, as well as some writing, some planning and a tid-bit of music.  I even picked up a camera last weekend in Mendocino while Lauren danced upon the waves.  It turned out to be a blast.  These are just a few of the shots captured by my novice hand at the lens.

I head back to the playa early next week for another round of art and weird on industrial scale. I hope to find some motivation to paint during the downtime, of which I suppose there will be plenty, as it is predicted to be "the dustiest year ever".

I will also be taking notes.  I have my second assignment for Adventure Sports Journal and plan to tackle the survival tactics necessary to enjoy and thrive at the event, and to participate in a range of events as I analyze the human need for challenge and competition.  It is sure to be colorful regardless of what I find. More to come, after we burn it... TO THE GROUND.