The balance act...

Lately I've been feeling somewhat stagnant in action but active in thought. Plans for the near and distant future are a constant bombardment on my thought process. Its a frustrating and anxious feeling, but its exciting at the same time. I often tend to write about specific ideas or experiences, so this time I thought I'd open up a little more and share some of the more general thoughts that I've been having...

My zodiac sign is Libra, the scale, implying balance and stability. I think that I fit this description perfectly; I believe that I am the quintessential Libra, and where I am not, I strive to be.

Meden Agan - 'Nothing in excess'.

Aristotle said that "The virtue of justice consists in moderation, as regulated by wisdom." Indeed, I believe that moderation in everything is the key to both a happy life and a just world for everyone. This maxim applies to the finer, minute aspects of everyday life, from the food that we eat to the activities that we partake in. Yet it is just as applicable on a grander scale, from the way our societies operate to the way we interact with nature.

For me balance and moderation make things so much more enjoyable. By limiting my exposure or intake of a certain element, I come to enjoy whatever that element may be even more. Furthermore, when I practice moderation with everything in my life, it leaves me with more time and space to try new things.

I'll try to use some very personal examples to illustrate my point.
Travel for me is a part of finding a balance between the close-minded, consumer culture here in Canada and the global view of life that can only be gained through experience abroad. I feel as though my life seems to lack meaning and adventure when I remain in the same place for too long, so once I start to get anxious I try to ignore those inhibitions that our society has instilled upon me and I take off. That being said, I can't completely abandon this society, I can't ignore the impositions of capitalism. I therefore try to balance my travels with meaningful work and with small endeavors to make and save money wherever possible. I try to engage in my traveling in a sustainable manner that benefits the people of the place to which I am visiting. The balanced traveler should be a pragmatic idealist, open-minded and altruistic, but wise to the world in which they live.
Surfing acts as another important balance for me. Whenever I find myself away from the ocean for a long period of time I get anxious, so I make my way to the coast to escape and catch some waves. Whenever I live on the coast however, I find that I lack meaning in my life, that I am not contributing enough to the change that I want to see in the world. Although surfing is an activity that unites like minded people globally, it too often represents a self-involved and often parochial lifestyle. The quintessential soul-surfer is one deeply in touch with nature, conscientious of their impact on the environment and of their relation to the world and the universe as a whole. I applaud such attributes, but surfers of such stature are few and far between, and too often surfers get caught up in the care-free, beach living, fringe lifestyle that epitomizes the "surfer". Too often surfers simply sit back and enjoy the waves, without ever contemplating the privileged nature of such an activity, or the sacredness of the ocean and the environment. Surfing has certainly changed my life in positive ways, and it is something that will remain important to me for the rest of my life, but I cannot justify devoting my life solely to such a pursuit, it must be balanced. I see surfing as the perfect complement to a life of travel and activism, to a life devoted to affecting change in this world. Both surfing and traveling, because of their global scope and their proximity to nature, are ideal starting points to the conscious shift that this world needs. But balance is key; surfers and travelers around the world must look beyond the allure of the surfing lifestyle or the luxury hotels and begin to balance such things with conscientious, contributory living.

Let's look at something a little more general now. Like everyone else born into this society, I often consider my position within capitalism, and I admittedly feel the necessity of someday making a decent amount of money. I recognize that this is more a result of societal conditioning than it is of human need, but I cannot completely shed such a condition, for I am but a product of the society into which I was born. It is therefore imperative that society changes radically in order for individuals to follow suit, but radical change does not necessitate radical action. I'm a socialist at heart, and I believe in a society free of great inequalities and injustices, but I believe that such fundamental change will come about pragmatically and democratically. Albeit, radical activism is a necessary force to keep society on its toes, and maybe even to wake people up, but such action will only briefly interrupt the deep slumber of the masses, it requires a fine balance with pragmatic politics on the other end of the scale. The conscious shift that is necessary in order for this world to change will come about when people start to find balance in their lives and with this world.
I believe that capitalism has its merits and that people should certainly reap the rewards of their labour, but I don't think that anyone needs to be a millionaire, and I think that people need to reconsider what they actually want and need in life. We have the resources in this world to provide for everyone the basic necessities of life and a few luxuries as well. Finding the balance that will enable such equality however, is beyond the reach of capitalism in its current form, for capitalism is fundamentally and inherently adverse to the notion of moderation.

I realize that in my effort to emphasize the importance that I place on balance and moderation, I've digressed a little into my political and world views and into a lecturing tone. This simply serves to illustrate the virtuous nature of moderation, and the potential effects it could have on individuals and this world as a whole. I am not completely balanced myself, in fact I'm sure that I do many things in excess, but I'm conscientious of this and I strive to moderate in every way possible.

We all can find balance and moderation in our lives, and when more people start to realize this, the better off we will all be.

Paradise Lost...

Constantly moving and often in search of waves, I frequently tend to find myself at the end of the road. Culture at the end of the road always seems to intrigue me. People don’t just pass through the end of the road, they are there for a reason and when they’re done they turn around and leave. This serves to create a concentration of unique characters from all tracks of life, each with a different tale about what brought them to the end of the road, each contributing to the formation of that distinct end of the road culture. Tofino, a small town facing the open Pacific on the western extreme of Vancouver Island, is a glaring example of this phenomenon.

Its geographic location on the outskirts of civilization tends to attract to Tofino those people that live life on the fringe of mainstream society. Such people are often typified as vagabonds or wanderers, hippies or soul searchers, but their common connection is simply that of free will and free thought, a love for this world and for humanity, and the undying thirst for new experiences. When you live a transient life of uncertainty and relative freedom, often finding a concentration of like individuals is a great comfort. This is why Tofino continues to not only attract new and interesting characters all the time, but is also a permanent home to many of those people who are fatigued from the journey but still want the fix of the free spirited, adventurous lifestyle.

The atmosphere in Tofino is friendly and welcoming; picking up hitchhikers is a norm, and lending a helping hand to those in need common. There is a sense of community and familiarity here that cannot be found in the vastness and emptiness of other settlements along the road.

In addition to the abundance of interesting characters and the air of friendliness, Tofitian culture is accentuated by the surrounding beauty of the temperate rainforest, the great Pacific, and the lining mountains. People flock to Tofino to experience nature in its rawest form, to connect to it in ways that cannot be achieved within the great metropolitans of our world. To come face to face with a giant whale as it surfaces from the sea, to walk along an ancient-growth rainforest path in the darkness of the night guided only by starlight, to ride a wave as it peels across a bay, such are the experiences that one can find in Tofino.

Such attributes leave the impression of a seeming utopia here at the end of the road in Tofino, but nothing is ever as it seems. Tofino, like so many other once isolated societies, is a paradise lost; another victim of the subliminal machinations of capitalist society. One cannot last long in this place without a steady source of income, and because people are willing to do anything to be able to live in a place like this, the upper class are able to stipulate working conditions and pay. The prices are steep and the options slim, Tofino is a place that has steadily developed into a bourgeoisie destination. It has become an isolated bastion for the rich and famous, mansions constantly springing up along the coastline, resorts becoming ever more luxurious. Beautiful space that was once communal and enjoyed by all is fenced off and labeled as private property.

One can make a decent living if they find the right job, but at what cost? It is so easy to forget where you are and to take for granted the beauty of this place; making money becomes a necessity and a preoccupation. Long hours limit your time to enjoy the people and the surroundings that make this place special.

Tofino is thus a glaring contradiction, a paradise lost for those on the losing end of capitalist society. People come here to escape the pressures of mainstream society, to leave behind the rampant consumerism and the material obsessions that they have come to know so well. Quickly they realize that Tofino is no exception, that even such a settlement, isolated at the end of the road, rich in natural beauty and open mindedness, cannot escape the pervasive and pitiless hand of capitalism.

I am content here right now, enjoying nature and surfing, appreciating the one face of Tofino that I have come to love. But as I slowly start to work more and more, I am reminded of why I chose the life that I am living, and I am emboldened in my desire to help people wake up and see the world for what it really is, and to fight for what is really right.

The great unknown...

One can never really know the ocean. As far back as we can tell it has been a source of worship and devotion; a vast mystery that has provided both life and death with the same arbitrariness. It's character, while omnipotent, is otherwise indefinable. In Spanish the ocean is given a masculine characterization "El mar", yet in French a female one "La mer". The ocean is the most prevalent part of this world, yet we know so little of it.
If there is anything that I have learned from my time with the ocean, it is that I will never truly understand it, that I will never truly know it. I've learned that despite an utmost respect and appreciation for its power, the ocean holds no allegiances. That regardless of how well one thinks they know the ocean, it will either reward or strike out against all with impartiality

Being back on the coast I'm reminded of my life back in El Salvador. I used to wake in the morning to beams of sunlight streaking through my ragged blinds, my bed sheet crumpled at my feet from the creeping heat of the day to come. I would throw on my board shorts and walk out the door, stand there for a minute stretching my arms taking in the smells and sounds of the tropical coast. I would grab my board and saunter down the lush forest path towards the ocean, reflecting on last nights festivities, visualizing the impending surf. I arrive on the beach and like every other morning am awed by the perfection of the glassy waves as they peel across the point one after the other in synchronized succession. I wade into the water and lay on my board to begin my long and uneventful paddle out. Reaching the point with my hair still dry I find my place in the already busy lineup.
Here, where the water is warm like a bath tub, the crowds arrive with the rising of the sun.
The humble surfers will follow etiquette, but the humble are often few and battles for the waves will inevitably be fought. My time will come and I'll catch my wave deep on the peak, the slow point-break so forgiving as I drop in to its steep slope. I ride it out, up and down the face of the wave, all the way into the shore. I paddle back around to find my next wave. That was El Salvador.

I'm in Canada now, and I'm quickly reminded of how easier it is to be a surfer down south, and how dedicated one must be to surf here on the Northern Pacific coast. I'm reminded of how immense the ocean actually is, and of how little I understand it. Here I wake up in the morning curled in my heavy blanket, I hop out of bed and quickly throw socks, pants and a thick sweater over my shivering body. I walk outside and the damp cold air hits my nostrils, a gray faint light fights its way through the overcast sky. I grab my wetsuit out of the shed, it is soaking wet and icy cold from the surf the day before. I throw my clothes off and I begin to slip it on, one agonizing pull at a time. With the wetsuit on I grab my board and apply some soft wax, I begin the walk down to the beach. Rain spatters down and blows into my face as I tread through the dark forest path, the thick tangles of bushes and ancient trees line my way to the crashing ocean ahead. I make it to the beach, a sprawling bay lies in front of me, the ocean is angry, huge waves are breaking sporadically. I wade into the frigid water and walk my board out as far as possible, jumping over the smaller waves as they break, not yet ready to completely immerse myself. The water deepens and I hop on my board and start paddling hard, determined to make it quickly to the outside - the one place of relative tranquility among the madness of the beach break. A huge wave breaks a few feet in front of me, I duck dive deep, the cold water hits my face like a hard slap and takes the breath out of me, I come up shocked.
Every first duck dive at the beginning of the day leaves you shocked like never before in the cold waters of the ocean.
I finally make it to the outside and relax for a moment, always maintaining a careful watch on the horizon for a big set, those giant waves that break much further outside than the rest, always sending a few careless souls rolling to the inside.
I paddle around a bit searching for the right spot, my patience rewards me and a perfect wave forms up in the distance. It is a monstrous wave, swelling up thicker and thicker as it rolls towards me. It hits me as I'm paddling hard, trying ever so desperately to capture the moment, to get on this one unique wave before it breaks into foamy whitewash and disappears to never be seen again. It is peaking now, the lip of the wave beginning to curl, I push hard and fight to make the drop over the face of the wave, but it is too late. The wave breaks suddenly with such speed and power that rather then gliding down the face of it I find myself free falling from its very pinnacle, my arms flailing as I fall through the air, my breath held in anticipation for the punishment the ocean is about to deal me for testing it. I land hard and am sucked up by the wave as it crashes on top of me, I relax and let the force spin me, my wetsuit is flushed by the frigid water. I come up eventually and take a deep breath, disoriented I quickly look for my board; in earnest I need to leave the impact zone if I want to avoid being tossed around like a toy. I hop on my board and paddle out again, angry at myself for not making the wave, respectful of the ocean for putting me in my place. This is the Northern Pacific.

The beauty of surfing is that it can be done almost anywhere that there is a coastline. The right conditions are surely to create waves at some point in time, the variety of waves are infinite. The direction in which they break; the speed; the size; the thickness; the form all make the ocean the most diverse playground in the world for those looking to ride the waves.
My respect for the ocean grows with everyday I spend in its presence, and I will always approach it with the utmost humility. For I have experienced its wonders and received its fury. But still, I do not know the ocean, I never will.