Turning points

(an excerpt from Longboard.net bulletin board, 10-27-02, posted by “Michael”): “…from now on I live my life like there’s no tomorrow, and look at life in a different way. All you need is that one magic session that sparks the passion you have for surfing. If you don’t surf as well as you use too, it doesn’t matter. As long as you get back in the water realize you only live once.” – What`s YOUR story?

EEEmotional indeed. I love surfing - but I can’t beleive that ‘you only live once’. For me it’s more like… even if you only get in a great session once a year, it’s worth it.>>> (an excerpt from Longboard.net bulletin board, 10-27-02, posted by > “Michael”):>>> “…from now on I live my life like there’s no tomorrow, and look at > life in a different way. All you need is that one magic session that > sparks the passion you have for surfing. If you don’t surf as well as you > use too, it doesn’t matter. As long as you get back in the water realize > you only live once.”>>> -->>> What`s YOUR story?

…He who catches the joy,and flies it,lives in eternity’s sunrise forever…Jim Freeman. www.skaterbuilt.com

Hi Herb, How the hell are you? Here’s where it came from: Eternity Text by William Blake (1757-1827), from Several Questions Answered. He who binds himself a Joy Doth the wingèd life destroy; But he who kisses the Joy as it flies Lives in Eternity’s sunrise. The look of love alarms, Because it’s fill’d with fire; But the look of soft deceit Shall win the lover’s hire. Mahalo, Rich

What`s YOUR story? My folks used to take me to the beach at Corona del Mar in Orange County. My dad and I were standing in the swash zone, 2 inches of white water wrapping around my feet and then flowing back to sea. I kept falling over as the backwash would gouge the sand out from under my heels. My old man gave me the single sagest piece of advise I’ve ever gotten that summer day in '54. “Son, you gotta keep your feet moving.” A metaphor for life, no? It was that same summer when I caught my first wave. My dad would bail on my mom to body surf leaving her to keep an eye me. Being the little Coral that I was, it was easy to get lost in the crowd and work my way out to the “big ones” my dad used to ride. He taught me how to dive under the white water, letting the powerful chaos wash over my body safely hunkered down on the sand like a halibut. I popped up from the last wave and found myself “outside”. A big lump of blue green jumped up and I turned and windmilled my arms and flailed my little legs toward shore. Instead of the ocean being inches from my face, I was suddenly looking over a watery cliff when I first felt the rush. It was like the whole Pacific Ocean was throwing me to the beach. I threw my arms out in front of me, holding my hands together in the “Superman Pose” my dad and everyone else used those days. That was it…flying over the water like a speeding bullet, Superman. The wave broke and consumed me in white water. I held my breath and my pose until I felt the sand grinding into the front of my trunks, beached as it were…My head was filled with wonder. I must have laid there for several seconds, basking in the power of what I had just done. Then, way back in the far recesses of my little mind, I began to hear a quiet squeal that grew to a shriek. Something big grabbed my trunks and lifted me like a small suitcase up the beach. When it flipped me over onto my back I saw a man with an orange baseball cap and my mother crying. I croaked, “What’s the matter, Mommy?” She pulled the lifeguard away and hugged me like… like…well, like a mother that just lost her baby and then found him again. She swore that she would never take me to the beach again, then she swore at my old man. The last thing I remember as we loaded the car was my dad giving me the thumbs-up when my mom wasn’t looking. I was blissed out with the power of that wave the whole way home. That feeling has never left me. I can’t figure out how anyone would want to give up that feeling. Sometimes it gets covered up with a lot of life’s blankets but the second I feel that power lifting me and hurling me toward the beach, it comes back strong. Flying like Superman… Newbs

My folks used to take me to the beach at Corona del Mar in Orange County. > My dad and I were standing in the swash zone, 2 inches of white water > wrapping around my feet and then flowing back to sea. I kept falling over > as the backwash would gouge the sand out from under my heels. My old man > gave me the single sagest piece of advise I’ve ever gotten that summer day > in '54. “Son, you gotta keep your feet moving.” A metaphor for > life, no?>>> It was that same summer when I caught my first wave. My dad would bail on > my mom to body surf leaving her to keep an eye me. Being the little Coral > that I was, it was easy to get lost in the crowd and work my way out to > the “big ones” my dad used to ride. He taught me how to dive > under the white water, letting the powerful chaos wash over my body safely > hunkered down on the sand like a halibut. I popped up from the last wave > and found myself “outside”. A big lump of blue green jumped up > and I turned and windmilled my arms and flailed my little legs toward > shore. Instead of the ocean being inches from my face, I was suddenly > looking over a watery cliff when I first felt the rush. It was like the > whole Pacific Ocean was throwing me to the beach. I threw my arms out in > front of me, holding my hands together in the “Superman Pose” my > dad and everyone else used those days.>>> That was it…flying over the water like a speeding bullet, Superman. The > wave broke and consumed me in white water. I held my breath and my pose > until I felt the sand grinding into the front of my trunks, beached as it > were…My head was filled with wonder. I must have laid there for several > seconds, basking in the power of what I had just done. Then, way back in > the far recesses of my little mind, I began to hear a quiet squeal that > grew to a shriek.>>> Something big grabbed my trunks and lifted me like a small suitcase up the > beach. When it flipped me over onto my back I saw a man with an orange > baseball cap and my mother crying. I croaked, “What’s the matter, > Mommy?”>>> She pulled the lifeguard away and hugged me like… like…well, like a > mother that just lost her baby and then found him again. She swore that > she would never take me to the beach again, then she swore at my old man. > The last thing I remember as we loaded the car was my dad giving me the > thumbs-up when my mom wasn’t looking. I was blissed out with the power of > that wave the whole way home.>>> That feeling has never left me. I can’t figure out how anyone would want > to give up that feeling. Sometimes it gets covered up with a lot of life’s > blankets but the second I feel that power lifting me and hurling me toward > the beach, it comes back strong. Flying like Superman…>>> Newbs — Geeeez, Newbs… now THAT was beautiful!! Very cool mental images… What`s up with all these sensitive athletes-sculptors-writers-poets-artists in Swaylocks? —

Yeah Newbs, very cool!