Real Photographer?

10661717_653826504730895_3842677399764929265_oCan you tell us where you stand, on the debate, concerning the “real photographer”?

“I’d have to say, that is usually in the hot sun’.

This was a sticky page.

As administrator of this blog, I have tagged this page to make it my cover, until I decide to change it. I maintain a minimalist presence. My – who am I – and who I am not – was written in the embryonic stage, of this venture. It gives you a synapses synopsis, of Secondhand Surfer ~ unburdened by detail. That is the nature of this journal. It is the “essence” of.

My posts are photos and poems, opinions and confessions. At times I am cryptic, while at others, embarrassingly revealing.

The unexamined life is not worth living.

After thirteen years studying and pursuing a spiritual life, I chose to move beyond what I knew. I decided to Let Go, and leap forward into the unknown. I crossed the threshold of my front door, and began to navigate life, blindfold. Many years later, one day at a time, I continue surrendering to Providence. Continue reading Real Photographer?

The Whakaari

The Whakaari, the sailing vessel of a Kiwi, named Craig, was stranded at the Boca de Rio, Playa Avellanas. It was a great diversion through the month of October, the hardest of the rains here.

All speculated, and had their opinion of details involved. How could this happen? Wasn’t he lucky, being so unlucky. He beached precariously, between reefs.

I was impressed with the Captain’s demeanor. He never showed signs of stress or anger. He always had a smile and friendly words.

I know he has to leave us.

He’s just beginning on his, around the world adventure.

He will be missed.

Citizen of the Surf

IMG_0803citizen |ˈsitizən, -sən|(abbr.: cit. ) noun
a legally recognized subject or national of a state or commonwealth, either native or naturalized: a British citizen | the rights of every citizen.
• an inhabitant of a particular area

I am a citizen of the surf, as is the girl in the photo above. I have seen her surfing at my home break, Playa Avellanas for the last week. Paddling out, catching waves, I don’t know her, I don’t have to. She’s another surfer, in the water. A sister citizen, of the waves. Continue reading Citizen of the Surf

R. J. Rio de Janeiro


Is a specialty company, selling crocheted tops, such as the one, modeled here.

When I go for a walk on the beach, I never know what, or who, I’m going to encounter. Leaving the shipwreck, I met three girls; two models, one a photographer, all three surfers. They are traveling and supporting themselves, via the internet. We have come into an altered world.

We are living in a time of warped speed. She asked me if I had instagram. I replied no, “I’m primitive.” I showed her my dumb phone, that I purchased last week. I never have it when I need it. And it rings, when I’m driving. But I bought it, because it’s suppose to save my life, at some point.

I became mindful of how much goes on, in a place, that looks like time has stood still.

And in writing this, I’m reminded of all the shells that, I know, were walking down the beach, at the time I took this photo.

Speed up, slow down, speed up, slow down.

Who sets the pace?