How Karmic Force Got Its Fins Into My Surfing
As a surfer from New England, I’ve dedicated years to understanding the rocks and the regulars at unfriendly breaks from Rhode Island to Maine. However, when I got to California a few years ago, I was a fish out of water. While I was amped to live somewhere where surfing was a daily necessity and the water didn’t go beneath 55 degrees, I also went out of my way to respect the people who’ve been coming to these spots for generations – even if that meant giving up waves to others and hanging out on the shoulder on a busy day. I’ve seen surf spots back home become overrun with vapid masses of newcomers who often bring more boards than etiquette, so I understand my role as a tourist here.
However, just because I was respectful, doesn’t mean I was a pleasure to be around.
For those couple of years, frustration stalked me like an undercover cop. I glowered through a cascade of endlessly vexing surf sessions as I dealt with injuries, tried to stockpile local knowledge, and was forced to be brutally honest with myself about my age, surfing abilities and fitness level. Even when I scored a sick wave or had a dreamy session that stayed with me all day, the triumphs of it made it somehow harder to endure the times when I rolled under the foam ball like an out-of-work acrobat, wondering what sins I’d committed in another life.
Which leads us to karma, the Sanskrit word defined as a “deed” or “action” and a term many of us throw around from time to time. According to Hinduism, our every action creates a unique outcome. Positive deeds initiate positive rewards and effects, and negative words, thoughts or other behavior kickstart unwelcome outcomes. Negative or positive karma can arrive immediately, later in the individual’s present life, or even in future lives, if you’re into that whole ball of wax.
Recalling surf sessions where I dealt poorly with adversity, I can’t help thinking about the concept of karma. I’ve always been prone to frustration, and I possess a temper that fires like a lit M-80. When I grew pissed at myself for crappy surfing, I muttered under my breath, slapped the water as if punishing it, and lost any chance of keeping my head in the game. As I acted as though the world was ending, I missed glassy wedges of redemption as they rolled through. Returning from these sessions, my fiancé would ask how it went, I’d grunt, and she’d say “wow, surfing seems…fun.”
During those challenging sessions, when someone around me scored – it didn’t matter if it was the aspiring pro in the lineup throwing reverse airs or the beginner slowly chugging down the line – I rarely smiled or cheered. I was mired in my own shortcomings; why would I toss some good vibes over to the surfer having a better session than me?
In turn, I also paddled away from those perpetually loud people in the lineup, the ones who shout for themselves, friends, strangers, even the dolphins if they grab a nice ride. Instead, I simply wanted some good waves to myself, away from the business of the outside world. Yep, I was often a total grouch; a surf scrooge, if you want to take it that far. What I didn’t realize at the time was that my negativity, once planted, grew like seaweed, entangling everything in its path.
Over the last few months – and it might have to do with my steady diet of the same spot – I’ve changed my tune. It began with a simple encounter. I paddled out on the first day of a solid south swell. The break was packed, I scored a few good ones, and I couldn’t help but notice one local dude absolutely crushing it, dispatching waves with effortless style. When I saw him on the beach later, I told him he’d been ripping out there. He ducked his head, smiled, thanked me.
Just as my negativity spread like cracks in fiberglass, this simple, unconscious act of positivity also ignited aftershocks. A few days later, walking back up the beach, I caught a grey-haired dude on his last wave, pivoting smoothly on his longboard. “Get a few?” he asked as he emerged from the sea. I nodded and told him it was even less crowded up the beach, and breaking just as well, and he said he’d remember that. “I saw your last wave,” I added. “Looked great.” Surprised, the guy smiled big and tossed me a shaka, and I also headed back home smiling.
Does this mean that if I bring good vibes to the table, I’ll automatically land my first rodeo? Absolutely not. Plus, it can be difficult to differentiate between a Slater-like desire and toughness in the lineup – an affect that can lead to powerful, aggressive surfing – and a narcissistic, pessimistic attitude that plagues the lineup worse than a Covid-laced sneeze. It’s vital to remember that we’re not only all human, (except for Slater), but we also all come to the beach each day with completely different backgrounds, beliefs, and lived experiences on our shoulders.
Many of us, though, unintentionally embody good vibes because we’re inherently good people. When an old friend came to visit, one of those guys who always has your back, we paddled out and watched a surfer pass like a freight train on an arcing right. “Hey man, that was a sick wave!” My friend blurted, full of a visitor’s excitement and stoke. The guy grinned and waved, and, while at the time I was surprised by my buddy’s enthusiasm, looking back, I learned something from him.
I can envision the comments now – Wow, you figured out that complimenting someone makes you feel good? Great work, Freud. But see, I didn’t make a conscious decision to start dishing compliments and high-fives – it just happened. Ironically, since then I’ve been rewarded with some of the best sessions of my life.
Of course, it’s not all good karma, Kramer. Last week I was also accosted by an angry Russian man who was convinced I’d stolen his wave because I’d been “paddling near him.” I tried to explain that he wasn’t in position, but he steamrolled me with an angry rant. While the old me wanted to blow up, I took a deep breath. Maybe the guy was having a tough day, or he’d had a lot of frustrating surfs recently; just like I used to. “Hey man, take the next wave,” I said. “All yours.”
Next time you paddle out, take a look around and check out who’s smiling and dealing good vibes, and who’s grimacing at the horizon, bemoaning the crowd, and selling bad karma for five bucks a pop. We can’t truck in good karma all the time, of course, and there’s no need to throw out love to surfers who’re not respecting the other people, the spot, and the rules we all ride by.
Yet, I’m going to try my best to bring positivity to the break, even when groms air over my head, even when kooks drop in on me without looking, and even when angry surfers from Russia want to snap my leash for surfing next to them. Hey, if all else fails, I’ll just call the Karma Police.
The post How Karmic Force Got Its Fins Into My Surfing first appeared on The Inertia.
