I am happy to be seated and writing in my blog. It’s been since September 13th that I wrote.
A lot has come and gone, in my mind.
I’ve been practicing meditation. Every morning, I get up at five-ish and I sit. I close my eyes and breath. I’m not new to meditation, I just got away from it. The same way I can get away from other things that are good for me, like eating right, exercise and staying far away from drama.
“There is nothing wrong with change, if it is in the right direction” ~ a quote by Winston Churchill.
Ok-how do I know if it’s the right direction? Hence, meditation. I need to sit and be still. The answer is in the silence.
I say adios to Nica Waves…what a great surf camp.
The surf trail is not new to me. I always approach it with minimal expectations.
I just want to say the Nica Waves Surf Camp, it’s owner and all the employees; Maria, the concierge, the cook/chef ~ the beef jalapeno is an excellent choice, (I have detoured from my food plan!) Boogie, the surf guide, and all the locals that Mike employs here are awesome.
Security has always been an issue on my travels, and I have never allowed myself to be this relaxed.
In two or three hours, after coffee and one more slice of banana bread, I will be headed south to the border.
I’m going home~to Costa Rica that is.
La Huerta awaits me.
Two days ago, I caught this fish. It’s a red bass. My first, big, red bass. The fish latched aholt (I think this is a Southern term.) of the hook and swallowed it so hard, it would have been difficult to loose. But I didn’t know that, at the time. I reeled that fish as it swam hard, towards the rocks. It did everything to get away. That fish and I became one. The tide would pull it in and I would have to reel fast. The the tide would pull back and I could barely hang on. I was not going to let any slack in that line. I had to be strong to bring that fish on to the bank. I felt bad as it was drawing its last breath. It was so colorful; red and gold. It faded as the seconds went by and the sun set behind us.
Thirty years ago the Real Fish Head took me fishing. He latched aholt of me and like that fish I had no idea how set that hook was.
If you travel to Costa Rica, down a red clay road, to the remote, outpost Avellanas, you will find a fine dining restaurant, where this man is one of the waiters. You will be greeted with a luminous smile and a genuine “pura vida“.
Natalia is another surfing mama.
What a beautiful life. What a beautiful family.
*None of the photos are mine. The restaurant is the famous, Lola’s.
He invests in his children’s lives. I heard someone on the radio putting it like this~many father’s don’t want to talk to their children or drive to their events. They make excuses. If they could look at it as if they were engaging in efforts, that would make them a thirty thousand end-of-ear bonus; and that bonus relied on having conversations they didn’t really want to have, and driving to places they really didn’t want to go-we all know most men would do those thing for the money.So, if you treat your children as if they are your greatest investment you will surely reap a treasure of great magnitude.
He treats his wife like the queen of his castle. His enchanted humble abode is 400 square feet. The table for this cake was the washer and dryer. The dryer seconds as a storage bin, so critters won’t be feasting on the weekly staples.
In my life, I am fortunate to have this example of~how to~in the realm of family experience.
This is the first of my new series, Featured Family.
This is my trainer and his family. If you don’t think you have the best trainer in the world, then you don’t have the right trainer.
Who says American values died in the fifties?
They look alive and well to me!
*I didn’t like any of the definitions of grommet~in the manner that I have used it So this is my definition. Surfers started calling kid surfers, more or less, 15 and under, groms. Grom is short for grommet, which is a mechanical term for a small steel ball.
I once worked as a fine art framer. In a tiny room, in the back of an antique shop; I framed a David Hockney drawing. That might have been the highlight of my career. My boss was an ex-marine officer, artist and a scholar. Working for this man was as much an education as the degree I was aiming towards. He repeated that line about patience and perseverance all the time. It is engrained in me. Life is about the seconds that we breathe, no doubt; and over time, they create the long haul.
My friend and employer was also a weight lifter and runner. He taught me to run. I’ve done five Jacksonville River Runs, one Cooper River Bridge Run, in Charleston, South Carolina and the Outback Half Marathon, also in Jacksonville. I can’t begin to tell you all the people ~nay sayers~ on the sidelines that told me I was going to hurt myself, and running was bad for me. I had to train myself to ignore negativity as much as I prepared my muscles and lungs.
I have put running on the back burner for the past few years. I traded that in for hiking and surfing. But I went running on a bike trail in Fort Clinch National Park the other day and had a great time. Miles and days add up. So do the people who you spend them with.
Make good choices and enjoy life, unless you have other plans.
I summarize this series with a picture of my friend Nick, who I admire for his never-ending ability to do the right thing.
When asked is my glass half full or half empty I must reply, neither.
My glass is always full.
It is full of the seen and the unseen.