This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.
You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/dec/04/surfing-spirituality
The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.
Previous version
1
Next version
| Version 0 | Version 1 |
|---|---|
| There is a god – and she wants us to surf | There is a god – and she wants us to surf |
| (35 minutes later) | |
| In 2005, the late American writer David Foster Wallace gave a commencement address at Kenyon College Ohio, entitled This is Water. The key to the whole thing is this: | In 2005, the late American writer David Foster Wallace gave a commencement address at Kenyon College Ohio, entitled This is Water. The key to the whole thing is this: |
| There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "What the hell is water?" | There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "What the hell is water?" |
| Foster Wallace was trying to get a point across about consciousness. Faced with the inescapable drudgery of modern life, “it is unimaginably hard to stay conscious and alive, day in, day out,” he argued. He urged the students to construct meaning from their experiences, rather than simply endure them. | Foster Wallace was trying to get a point across about consciousness. Faced with the inescapable drudgery of modern life, “it is unimaginably hard to stay conscious and alive, day in, day out,” he argued. He urged the students to construct meaning from their experiences, rather than simply endure them. |
| And there was more. | And there was more. |
| (I)n the day-to-day trenches of adult life,” he continued, “there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship … is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. | (I)n the day-to-day trenches of adult life,” he continued, “there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship … is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. |
| I’m no philosopher, and it’s likely that sticking my head over the parapet is going to result in a Kant-obsessed mob slapping me in virtual stocks and pelting me with existential tomatoes. But I choose to believe that the consciousness Foster Wallace was pressing upon us, the vital importance of avoiding a default setting of dumb materialism, is to be found in the ocean. In my case it’s surfing, but cut me some slack. I’m at the outer edges of my argumentative range here. If yours is floaties and a kickboard, that’s just fine. Immersion, OK? | I’m no philosopher, and it’s likely that sticking my head over the parapet is going to result in a Kant-obsessed mob slapping me in virtual stocks and pelting me with existential tomatoes. But I choose to believe that the consciousness Foster Wallace was pressing upon us, the vital importance of avoiding a default setting of dumb materialism, is to be found in the ocean. In my case it’s surfing, but cut me some slack. I’m at the outer edges of my argumentative range here. If yours is floaties and a kickboard, that’s just fine. Immersion, OK? |
| I am, by baptism at least, a Catholic. I’m sure I remain one, despite stumbling around painfully over a scatter of moral precepts and silly rules like Lego in the dark. But I have trouble with the anthropomorphised aspects of my deity – a God with a beard, hurrumphing and frowning all the time. That our God should have a gender at all strikes me as a little back-arsewards: wouldn’t an omnipotent being easily elude such binary categorisations? But returning to Foster Wallace’s point, I’m no atheist. I’m happy for my god to subsist in a rock, or in the crab under it. | I am, by baptism at least, a Catholic. I’m sure I remain one, despite stumbling around painfully over a scatter of moral precepts and silly rules like Lego in the dark. But I have trouble with the anthropomorphised aspects of my deity – a God with a beard, hurrumphing and frowning all the time. That our God should have a gender at all strikes me as a little back-arsewards: wouldn’t an omnipotent being easily elude such binary categorisations? But returning to Foster Wallace’s point, I’m no atheist. I’m happy for my god to subsist in a rock, or in the crab under it. |
| Although Calvinist settlers suppressed the expression of Hawaiian surfing spirituality on the basis it might lead to all manner of ungodliness, there are Christian Surfers organisations worldwide nowadays – Zac Young, the 19-year-old who died in a shark attack at the weekend, was a member – and even a Jesus Pro Am in Newcastle. Both the Christian and Jewish faiths have produced world champions, and this year, an Indonesian Muslim competed in the Rip Curl Pro at Bells Beach. | Although Calvinist settlers suppressed the expression of Hawaiian surfing spirituality on the basis it might lead to all manner of ungodliness, there are Christian Surfers organisations worldwide nowadays – Zac Young, the 19-year-old who died in a shark attack at the weekend, was a member – and even a Jesus Pro Am in Newcastle. Both the Christian and Jewish faiths have produced world champions, and this year, an Indonesian Muslim competed in the Rip Curl Pro at Bells Beach. |
| But collectively, surfers seem to exhibit a spirituality which stands independently of any formal beliefs they may hold. The death of a surfer is often mourned through a “paddle-out”, a moving ritual in which people on boards form a circle by holding hands, and lay flowers or ashes on the water. As the mourners depart, the floating petals form a circular “lei” on the ocean’s surface. | But collectively, surfers seem to exhibit a spirituality which stands independently of any formal beliefs they may hold. The death of a surfer is often mourned through a “paddle-out”, a moving ritual in which people on boards form a circle by holding hands, and lay flowers or ashes on the water. As the mourners depart, the floating petals form a circular “lei” on the ocean’s surface. |
| The ceremony probably originated a century ago, with the Waikiki beach boys, but it holds to no formal religious structure. At this time of year, a paddle-out is observed at Oahu’s Waimea Bay in memory of Eddie Aikau, who drowned in 1978 whilst trying to save his friends at sea. | The ceremony probably originated a century ago, with the Waikiki beach boys, but it holds to no formal religious structure. At this time of year, a paddle-out is observed at Oahu’s Waimea Bay in memory of Eddie Aikau, who drowned in 1978 whilst trying to save his friends at sea. |
| Of all the billions of geological and biological permutations behind the existence of surf, it’s striking how everything lined up for us humans. Waves arrive at the right temperature (okay, forget about Victoria in winter, but generally it’s survivable). They’re not toxic, foul or full of sharp objects. They break within physical parameters which are ideal for play – right there on the beach, and variably enough to allow each of us to grapple with the level of force which suits our abilities. Breaking waves usually co-exist with animals, plants and other natural phenomena in a state of wondrous interconnection with humans. These things cannot be said for, say, the heart of a volcano or the bottom of the Marianas Trench. What I draw from this is that there is a higher being; he/she/it is benevolently inclined and what’s more, wants us to go surfing. | Of all the billions of geological and biological permutations behind the existence of surf, it’s striking how everything lined up for us humans. Waves arrive at the right temperature (okay, forget about Victoria in winter, but generally it’s survivable). They’re not toxic, foul or full of sharp objects. They break within physical parameters which are ideal for play – right there on the beach, and variably enough to allow each of us to grapple with the level of force which suits our abilities. Breaking waves usually co-exist with animals, plants and other natural phenomena in a state of wondrous interconnection with humans. These things cannot be said for, say, the heart of a volcano or the bottom of the Marianas Trench. What I draw from this is that there is a higher being; he/she/it is benevolently inclined and what’s more, wants us to go surfing. |
| Kids surf because surfing feels wonderful. Unanalysed, unreconstructed physical joy. Adults get a dose of that, but they get something else as well. What am I scratching for here … healing? Comfort? Transcendence? | Kids surf because surfing feels wonderful. Unanalysed, unreconstructed physical joy. Adults get a dose of that, but they get something else as well. What am I scratching for here … healing? Comfort? Transcendence? |
| Whatever it is, the feeling is usually independent of your success in riding waves on a given day. When I leave the water, I have a deep-seated sense I’ve communed with something. I can‘t articulate it, but as the water drains out the legs of my wetsuit, I feel I’ve grappled with the works of a god I can’t describe, a god without gender, without arms and legs or even a beard. A god who exists within the random tumble of moving ocean. | |
| Our editors' picks for the day's top news and commentary delivered to your inbox each morning. | Our editors' picks for the day's top news and commentary delivered to your inbox each morning. |
Previous version
1
Next version