Dissolving into Nor Cal Magic

Big Sur (Photo: Ari Marsh)

I received a note from long time friend Ari Marsh and I thought I would share it here:

Hey folks,
How are things back in So Cal? I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer. I've been traveling around, camping, and surfing up the Northern California coast and wanted to come up for air for a moment,send out some hellos, and share some reflections.... I spent a handful of days roaming the Big Sur coast, and dropped into that space of forgetting what day of the week or month or year it supposedly is.I've had moments of being completely lost to those concepts of "who I am" or "what I do"... moments where identity dissolves into glorious sunset colors on mountain hikes, along un-named, forgotten stretches of coast.... but always something draws me back.After Big Sur, two of my deepest soul brothers on the planet and Ishared several days together. Eric, who some of you know, now lives in Santa Cruz, and my other brutha, Hodge, owns a plot of land and lives in a tiny solar-powered home that he built himself in a funky,rural coastal/mountain town north of the Golden Gate which I have promised to keep anonymous. From Hodge's zone, the three of us hiked the coastal mountains along narrow footpaths once trod by the Miwok native people to hidden, secret beaches seldom visited by outsiders.No Beacon's, no Cardiff Reef, no Swami's around these parts... no cafes, no smoothies, no cell phones, no glistening, turquoise water or emerald-colored waves to be had here.This is a stretch of coast where turkey vultures hover over uninviting, rocky beaches and feed on decomposing fish... where cold,gray mist and fog block out sunshine for days and weeks on end, and fierce north winds blow through coastal forests. The trails are lined with poison oak, which the Miwok made themselves immune to, and if you do finally reach these lost coves and beaches, the waves are definitely not playful. Surfing along this wild stretch of coast is often more about survival than anything else. It's about making peace with the cold, the elements, and your own momentary insignificance.Beyond that, surfing is about surrendering - if you can - to the terrible fear in your gut, the fear of the Great White, whom the local fishermen, sailors, and surfers call "the Landlord." The threat is real, and the part of you that is still primal can feel it within.You know you are no longer 'unconquerable human,' but potential prey to natural forces beyond your scope and control. Hodge was in the water when the last attack happened. He was 15 feet away when the Landlord surfaced with Amtrak-style power and grabbed another surfer by the torso and pulled him down, jaws and teeth snapping. This is something you never forget, he tells me, something that causes you to wake up in the middle of the night, heart thumping, drenched in sweat. These are the stories surfers share up here, as if to keep one another aware. Indeed, surfing in this region has nothing to do with flip-flops and Jack Johnson (although I love JJ's music), it's about 5mm booties, hoods, breathing through your fears while fog banks collide with mountains... it's about pondering an ocean, a world, a vastness that, at times, can be terrifyingly dark, cold, heavy, and lonely. But there's another side to it, something very mystical and tough to put into words. It has to do with a certain, fragile truth about being alive on this planet only for a short time... about the temporary, fleeting nature of our lives and our loved ones, and about once again becoming part of the mystery of natural life. It's about entering a space, both physically and psychologically, where social constructs and media-driven realities are meaningless. It's about tapping into the source, the nature within and around you, and becoming part of something incomprehensibly beautiful and wondrous. We surfed the Point and the Rock for 2 solid days with very large southern hemisphere and NW swells rocking the coast. The waves were really challenging and take-off spots were lined with huge, jagged rocks... truly intense! And although I'm still in one piece physically - save for a few bruised ribs - emotionally and perhaps spiritually I've been blown apart and scattered amongst the ancient land, vast sky, and fathomless sea......Whew..... feels good to write, to connect with friends and community,to share, and to get some thoughts off my chest....I am now up at Mount Shasta, the 14,000' plus Himalayan-style, glacial peak in Cali's extreme north. Although Shasta is definitely one of the spiritual epicenters of the West, I haven't quite adjusted to the blazing sunshine and 100 degree heat of the lower elevations. The mountain is, as always, a beautiful and inspiring site, and still has plenty of snow on it.My plan is to be back in So Cal sometime in mid-August or so. I am looking forward to connecting with everyone again, and sharing rhythm,music, kirtan, dance, drumming, tea, visits, and all the stuff that makes life goooood! Though I will be visiting the Landlord's zone again on my way back down the coast, I do indeed plan on returning home.
Deep love and blessings to all! Thanks for reading.....Ari

P.S.
Here's a verse from a beautiful poem written by a friend: "Know the path that is not a path, the home that is not a home,the world without closure, law, or restriction.
Pine for your day and your freedom
Let it usher you in and out of cycles,
And tell you when to light the fire, when to begin."