You can take the legs from the surfer, but you can’t take the surf from the surfer.
My friend Mark is a legend. I have seen him around the greater Carnitas area for many years. Usually in the Cardiff lot, setting up his homemade contraptions for accessing the sea. Those around him can be seen rushing for the horizon, ignoring each step of the process of what it takes to transform into their ocean-self, mindlessly sprinting towards the shore with board under arm. Mark takes a different approach. He engages in a slow, methodical process of pulling into his parking spot, setting up his gear, observing the swell and wind, listening to a few extra tunes, a casual conversation or two, followed by eventual movement towards the waters edge… enjoying each step of the process with a snails pace and a zen like grin of bliss all the way till the moment his face hits the water, transforming into his ocean-self. Having raced by Mark many times with my board under arm, I have struggled to hide my envy of his tranquility that transcends my suburban angst. As others like me rush to the shore in pursuit of a quick fix, we tend to miss the point…. the angst lingers like traces of noxious fumes that follow us out into the lineup, clouding our every move, mocking our attempts to succeed from the concerns of the land-lovers…impossible to walk in this muck.
Mark’s process allows him to shake off the bullshit, allowing for a clean entrance into the water in honor of the shift into his ocean self.
Mark lost the use of his legs in 1992. He has been a surfer for most of his life, the explosion that sent him into a new-normal of modified existence has not defined him. He is still Mark the surfer. Fast forward to 2007 when our paths crossed for a conversation, I found myself sharing a few post-session Tecates with Mark in the darkness of the Cardiff lot. Earlier that evening Mark had made it out through a solid west-north-west swell that was filling in at 16 second intervals as the tide was dropping throughout the fading light. At one point when I was taking a set on the head I happened to see Mark stroke into a bomb that took him all the way through the reef and past the restaurant.
It was after that session that Mark and I finally connected and had a chance to converse about the finer things in life. We traded off tales of multiple subject matter…. from where we were born, our first waves, first boards, first tubes, to music, politics, and eventually his injury. Mark talked story of his accident as if he were telling an ironic tale of loosing his car keys that would ultimately result in a twist of fate. Mark proceeded to tell me that, “you can take the legs from a surfer, but you can’t take the surf from the surfer.” I was in awe of Mark’s outlook on life as he continued to recount tales of odds beaten in defiance of doctors.
It was out of this conversation that my friends Cody, Bryce, and I were motivated to link up and film the following vignette as we joined Mark on a camping trip back to his old local zone between Lowers and Cottons point.
Although I haven’t been able to link up with Mark in a while his advice continues to inspire me… “Don’t think about what you can’t do, think about what you can do.”
Words to live by… I am thankful for the wisdom shared.
