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March 27, 2006
Paddling Out
A few days ago I watched a documentary on big wave surfing called 'Riding Giants', an excellent piece of film by Stacy Peralta, the writer and director of my favorite documentary of all time, 'Dogtown and Z-Boys'. I never have, and probably never will, take up surfing as a serious pursuit - citing my monopolized schedule stuffed with writing, design, photography and electronic music - but, the film moved me in a way similar to the affect that Crystal Method's Vegas, Dieselboy's 6ixth Session and movies like The Matrix and Hackers did. Only this time it wasn't that I identified with the surfing subculture's exterior skin (like I had with those other aforementioned things) it was the surfer's mindset, their single minded devotion to catching big and 'gnarly' waves, that struck a chord within me.
For an hour and forty minutes you get the privilege of watching conversation, footage and profiles of people who are passionate. It's infectious, and I haven't been able to shake the effects of the film for days. For a total of four solid minutes I thought about buying a surfboard and flying to Hawaii so I could live on the beach but quickly came to my senses. I'm the guy who watches the cooking channel and thinks he should be a chef, the heterosexual who watches Project Runway and starts shopping for sewing machines or the indecisive DJ who hears another stellar mix and wonders with fear if he's been buying the wrong vinyl for the past couple of years; I am drawn to passionate, proficient people and want what they have: devotion.
This all came into sharp focus when the film started to show people wiping out and I heard their descriptions of what it's like to be held under water for minutes as the ocean tosses them around like ragdolls. It was absolutely terrifying hearing their accounts of near death being juxtaposed with footage of some vicious wipeouts as men paddled to stay in the vein but quickly were flipped down the face of a 40 foot wave only to be dragged, under water, back up to the top and smashed back down into a frothy cauldron of white-water. There's something inexplicably powerful about hearing a man explain to you the thing that nearly killed him and then watch him go and do it. It's the same rush I got during the culmination of 'V for Vendetta' (go friggin' see that movie, by the way) and the same feeling I think anyone gets when they see someone who is willing to die for something they believe in. And I think that's where the true joy of surfing presents itself: when you start to ride the waves you know can kill you; when you decide to drop down the face and commit to the point where there is no turning back.
I think I finally understand what Jesus was talking about when he said, 'Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it'. These surfers have all come to the conclusion that life isn't worth living unless they are riding the waves that can kill them. They're willing to die for that feeling. I want to die for a feeling, I want to abandon myself into the bosom of a terrible and powerful God and see where it takes me.
The love of God and my submission to His Kingdom isn't safe for my physical frame and it's desires but, strangely, there is an inexplicable peace in embracing it's pure terror and recognizing that all the self preservation humanity has trained me in is wrong. There is no freedom in 401k's, retirement funds, in fast cars or fame and fortune. There is no peace in security systems, seat-belts or medicine when I'm sick. Only in Christ, only in His love, only in gazing into the maw of his terrible face can I become truly free, truly at peace and truly eternal.
Posted by Jon at March 27, 2006 10:29 AM