Today’s newsletter is a little different. Once in a while, I’m going to ask other people about what they find beautiful. G.B. lives in Southern California and loves surfing. I asked him, when he considers what he finds beautiful about surfing, where does his mind go?
Going to the beach as a kid, Rehoboth Beach in southern Delaware. We lived near Philadelphia. We would drive on a summer weekend night down through farmland, behind trucks, two hours usually, it would smell gross. But then you’d get off the highway and end up on a road that runs parallel to the beach, and you knew you could put the windows down and get that rich salty air. I live ten miles from the coast these days, I still get excited every time I see the ocean.
Surfing engages your senses in a very overwhelming way. It’s kind of impossible to feel it, actually. The board you’re standing on is moving. Your body is moving on top of that, and the ocean underneath you is moving also – this pulse of energy that has traveled literally across the globe. The wind is pushing against you. The water is spraying in your face. It’s difficult to describe because the experience is so rich, the amount of stimulus just fills up your capacity to perceive it.
When you surf, you’re alone and you’re away from land. You’re looking back at the space where you’re supposed to be, where human beings are usually and where they’re at their most capable. There’s a kind of vulnerability, being in the ocean. You can’t breathe underwater. Seals bump into you. There are fish underneath and big rocks on the ocean floor. It’s not dissimilar from how movies can be so emotionally impactful on airplanes. When you get on a plane, you’re handing over the ability to be in control. You’re both exposed and amenable. That kind of vulnerability, I think, really facilitates emotional experiences.
Floating in water taps into an amniotic, pre-cognitive state. There’s an idea of liminality. Some people strive for it through meditation or aesthetic experiences. It can happen when you’re reading, or when you’re cooking. It can happen during sex. I imagine that people who love sports, if you’re on a couch watching a game on television, pumping your fists – you forget yourself for a moment. You’re completely absorbed. The conscious mind is left behind, and you’re living in a moment with no thought, no awareness. For me, for many, in all its complexity and many parts, surfing is the most surefire way to reach that state.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity from two conversations.
Image credit: “No Title (What more could...),” 1997, Raymond Pettibon.
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