not all who wander are lost.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Harvest Moon, Sunrise and Surfing SOB's

I woke up at 5:30am and couldn't help but to admire the stunning Harvest Moon. I tried snapping a photo of it, but it didn't do it justice so I just made sure to make a mental picture of it in my mind. I sat in meditation for a bit, made some tea and then was on my way in search of waves. I checked "the spot" but ended up at "my" spot, and was so grateful that I did. (Sorry, I'm not going to let you know where "my" spot is...). As always, it delivered. As always, there were some familiar friendly faces in the water that elevated my session and the overall vibration in the water. And for the umpteenth time this week, Monk paddled out shortly after I arrived. Monk is a legend around these parts, and I attribute my smooth fluid moves on the water to growing up surfing with him. I know, my Dad surfed so why wasn't he the influence- actually, all three of us often surfed together, but my Dad and I have much different styles- which was the topic of most heckling that went on the water between the two of us most days! Anywho, Monk (Mike Monroe), whom I lovingly refer to as "Monkey", is one of my all time favorite people to surf with, and one of my all time favorite people in general. It's been these past few sessions with him that have really filled my heart and reminded me of HOW much fun and joy surfing truly brought to my life [when my Dad was around]. He heckles a bit (not nearly as much as my Dad), he hoots and hollers a bit (not nearly as much as my Dad), and he catches the best waves that filter through (same as my Dad). We chat throughout the session, about everything from gardening, spirituality, music, nature and how much we dislike tv. We find comfort and joy in each others "weirdness" and I find that we giggle like little girls about the smallest of things. There's the occasional "cessation of conversation" as Monk declares it whenever a good set comes through, but then we reconvene in the lineup after the wave sliding has commenced. Monk was on the inside paddling out as I caught a perfect wave, slowly cross-stepping to the nose for some hang time before gracefully making my way back. Monk shouted "Yeeew! Nose walking, trash-talking, son of a bitch!". This made me beam with love and pride, and filled me with so many fond memories of my Dad- I almost burst into tears. To begin, Monk doesn't curse. Secondly, he knew that this was what my Dad always shouted at me when I had a perfect wave. And so, for many of you, you now know the origin of this blogs namesake. Monk and I had a laugh about the fill-ins that Dad would use: it always began with "nose walking, trash-talking..." And ended with "...son of a bitch!", but the in between was the best part. It ranged from...


Sometimes it was just one or two of these lines woven in, but other days it was all of them together! So here's to my Dad, we were sliding 'em for you today. There must have been 30 dolphins in the lineup, and your presence was all around. Love, your nose walking, trash talking, purple-board-riding, hummus-eating,blue-bikini-wearing,down-dog-yoga-chick
,spanish-speaking, sweet-songstress-singing, heart-breaking, name-taking Son of a Bitch.

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