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Jul
16
Respect and the Universe
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I just finished the book West of Jesus: Surfing, Science and the Origins of Belief. I liked it. For as long as I can remember I’ve had a fascination with surfers—with surf culture in general. I’ve never surfed; I don’t have a real desire to learn how. I think I’m more fascinated with the idea of becoming one with nature, to be one with the universe—to be connected.
I remember when I was twelve years old; I had a chance to go to Hawaii with my boy scout troop. I don’t remember what island we were on or what beach, but I had decided to venture into the waves. I’m a Cali boy, I’ve been to the ocean, but the waves at Santa Cruz Beach and Boardwalk are not the same waves that crash on the islands. It took about a millisecond for an enormous wave to scoop me up and slam me on my head. I swear I heard the waves laughing as another wave repeated the cycle—up then down, up then down slammed to the ocean floor. I remember finally escaping, salt water shooting out of my nose, knees wobbly, punch drunk and confused. I lied on the beach and I thought, “The ocean just kicked my ass.”
Sometimes we have to get our ass kicked by something before we respect it; that’s how I came to respect jiu-jitsu—a good ass whipping gets our attention. I’ve chosen to get my “cosmic convergence” on the mat instead of the ocean—I’ll become one with the universe in a gi instead of on a surfboard, but I do respect both the wave and its riders, and I haven’t forgotten the lesson I learned about respect.
