Tag: star

My Funeral

wrecksWednesday, I went to the funeral, of a friend, who died suddenly, from a heart attack. He was 45. The chapel was small, and filled with friends. Every seat was taken, and some were standing in the back and up the side aisles.

I wondered, if I died, who would be at my funeral?  Numerous images came to mind. First – No one. Then, maybe a few friends from the Amelia Room, a club that I have belonged to, through the years. They would be gathered at a spot by the beach, spreading my ashes in the wind. Surely, some of my surf buddies would be in attendance. And maybe some brothers and sisters, from my church, would say a few prayers. “I don’t know”.  I just don’t know, how all of that would happen. First you die, and then the word spreads. Hopefully, they don’t plan my service, where my farewell competes with a football game, or an epic swell. But, really, it wouldn’t matter, because I would be dead. Continue reading My Funeral

Born Abstract

100_1138-shs2I WAS BORN ABSTRACT

in shades of grey

no sunshine – nor joy – no days to play

I was smothered by concrete

borders-boundries and rules

UNTIL ONE DAY

I was given the tools.

Colors sprang forth

Trees grew and bent

I laughed and I cried

I travelled and went.

To the land of the abstract

where I belong

filled with the spirit

singing my song.

Where the lilies bloom

No toil ~ No gloom

Follow your bliss, Miss

I WAS BORN ABSTRACT

* This painting is part of a mural, on my water tank, in Playa Avellanas, Costa Rica. It is the Rabbit Hole. I dream of having a special kind of surf camp there.

Ants

This is not the post that I was going to write.

I changed my mind after reading, Ants, by Writingmoose , this morning.

It brought to mind, one of my tenants, who was entertaining the thought of suing me, because he had been bit by ants, allegedly, in my house. I came over to discuss it with him, and he told me that he had been on a picnic in Georgia; which is where he had gone to the emergency room, for his antses attack. My house is in Florida. There was a problem with his story.

I have a lot of ants here in my house in Costa Rica. I keep my house clean and ignore the ants. What are they going to do really, except behave as an unpaid cleaning service. I do accidentally kill some. I don’t mean to, They are a life.

This brings to mind a woman, Hazel, who lived on the hill in Flamingo. She wanted to hire a pest control company. That is the kind of thing I came here to get a way from. I told her I let the ants be ants. She laughed and said, “I know you’re just kidding”.

About two years ago, this woman was set on fire, by her pool, early in the morning. Her husband had gone out for something. This took place about six a.m.. She had been doused with gasoline. The police suspected a suicide—-WHAT?

That’s how things are around here.

Is there a problem with this story?

Floating

February 17th, 2013. As the days go by, I drift.

I wonder how did I get here? But I know. It was the tide. That’s how life works; like the rhythms of the sea.

Were you ever taught what to do if you’re stranded in the water? You’re advised to FLOAT. Otherwise, you will expend your energy and you will soon begin to sink.

I’ve had times in my life, when I thought I was sailing along and everything was grand. Then out of nowhere, I encountered a gail force wind; or, I felt a hand push me overboard and I found myself having to swim to shore, AGAIN.

My life is not what I thought it would be. I’m older. Older than I use to be.

So today, I’m going to float.

I’m not going to fight the current of my family, or the undertow of Costa Rica.

Secondhand Surfer both the blog and the page are my raft. And we’re going to bob into an aesthetic existence.

Fueled by the breath of the Holy Spirit.

I don’t want to drown.

A Sprinkle of Rage

Two sisters are crouched in a three by three space, attempting to suppress their hyper-ventalatized breath; not wanting to address their present fear. Twenty feet and two doors separate them from a man with a gun.

A man whose, out of control, deep and threatening voice, is screaming. “I’m going to kill them!” “I’m going to kill them!” Continue reading A Sprinkle of Rage

Shawn Messer

This is a pictureless post.

It’s about an old friend, Shawn Messer, may he rest in peace.

If you’re from Fernandina and you die, chances are you’re going to be cremated or buried at Bosque Bello Cemetery. The funeral homes are still-somewhat-segregated, and if you are white, Oxley Heard are the lucky caretakers of your last ride, your bon voyage.

The gathering for Shawn’s dismissal was overwhelming. The small, quaint chapel was filled with attractive, young people; mostly surfers. My strongest memory of that day were the sunglasses. Everyone had on sunglasses. Having recently purchased a pair of Oakley’s, for one hundred and ten dollars, I was counting the money involved. That’s a miserable, throwback from my days as a professional buyer.

Shawn was killed in an auto accident on a dirt road somewhere in Costa Rica. I don’t know where he was going, but I know that he had been at the Mono Congo Lodge, near Playa Negra. He was escorting a mother and daughter from Texas, showing them the country. Those were the days. Back then there were no road signs and few tourists. Only the most adventurous souls were here. The days were filled with empty beaches, waterfalls and solitary sunsets. Any traveler’s dream would be to hook up with someone like Shawn and claim their ticket to paradise.

He had been successful back in the states. He was a builder, landing contracts, on our booming island. He was one good looking man. He bought himself a red corvette, pulled his long dark hair back in a pony tail and hit the town. He was a stand out.

In his bathing suit he looked like Tarzan. He was buff and had a beaming smile.

The real thing about Shawn was ~ he was nice!

I just love people like that. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

My husband and I had planned to come down and let him guide us around. We were going to pay him to take us to the breaks. Why not?

I’ve often thought about that trip that never was.

Making my way here on my own wasn’t easy. I would go into the one and only local surf shop back then and ask questions about Costa Rica. They would blow me off and tell me to read a magazine. So, I did. I hooked up with Surf Express, my first few trips, and began to find my way around.

It came to light, how jealous Shawn’s “friends” were of his new life. How they offered him no support. How they wanted to just come down and sponge. Hey, what are “friends” for?  That was another thought on my mind that day, sitting amongst that sea of death and beauty. The words that I had overheard. People degrading Shawn for his lifestyle choice. It had the ring of sour grapes to me. So many people want to live an adventure, but they just don’t have the guts.

Shawn Messer was a pioneer. A modern day Daniel Boone. He unwittingly paved the way for others.

He was my hero.

Long live Shawn Messer. May you be riding the big wave, in the sky. I know that you’re of the soul ~ embraced by the best of the big wave riders.

We are only here on this earth for a short time.

Do we want to be remembered as a mean spirited individual, or a loving aloha, pure vida surfer, secure in our place on the earth and in the heavens.

We could all learn a lesson from the beam of light, that was Shawn’s life.

In Memory of Shawn Messier

Distant Paradise

IMG_1205This was my first painting. Actually, it’s what is termed mixed media. It is painting and drawing, some on the surface and some on cut paper. The class was Design 1. The teacher was Derby Ulloah. The school was Florida Junior College at Jacksonville, in Florida. The assignment was to paint a self-portrait.

Does it look like me?

I began college as an adult. School was a strange, stressful and fascinating place. I always wanted an education. But instead of going to school, which I deemed impossible; something for other people, not me, I floundered around in the world, trying to make my way, working all kinds of jobs and never quite getting my feet on the ground.

Once I did start school, I dreamed of it being a means to a new life. I wanted to walk out of my life and into a world of sun, surf, peace and solitude.

And that’s what happened.

It wasn’t so much having the degree, as earning the degree. Such as, showing up and doing what I was supposed to, starting and finishing projects, dealing with beaurocracy and jumping through hoops. I had to meet and deal with new personalities . I had to learn to get along, even when I didn’t want to.

This might sound like every day life for most people, but for me it was a super- challenge.

The exception ~ was ~ I didn’t end up in solitude.

I met people and made friends. I have friends from all over the globe.

Paradise is no longer in the distance.

It’s the ground that I stand on.

A Sprinkle of Remembrance

We will not regret our past~nor wish to shut the door on it.

Yesterday, when I was standing on the beach taking photos, the wind was biting cold to me. I didn’t like it at all! My nose began to get cold and I started remembering. I normally don’t mind sharing my memories and telling my story. But for some reason, with this I hesitated. I didn’t want to think about it. Continue reading A Sprinkle of Remembrance