protean muse

I have a two-hour lunch on Fridays & a tempting 5-minute drive to Pleasure Point on the East side of Santa Cruz. I wolfed down bagels and hummus in the car as I peered over the cliffs at the surf. "Do I want to go out?" I kept asking. The surf looked good, but not great. I had stealthed my shortboard in the car all morning while I pandered in class, starving for big waves. Just then a van pulled in next to me and 3 foresters from Big Sur jumped out. They were stoked. "Look at this!" one exclaimed. Thrilled to see ANY waves that were surf-able, they suited up and hungrily ran for lonely 1st peak, where no one was bothering to ride.

Inspired by their fresh perspective, I shot out of a driver's seat full of bagel crumbs and suited up, and it was WAY more fun out there than it looked from the cliffs. The discovery today: longboarding has helped my shortboarding. So many people rigidly separate these two styles in the surf world, but learning how to manage a longer board this past week has been a crash-course on how to handle the art of wave-riding in general: where to stand on the board and when, how to use balance and weight distribution to squeeze the most out of a ride, etc. I happened to get up today and plant my feet in a new position on the short board: the back foot at 45 degrees rather than 90, and on the middle to right(ish) side of the deck; the front foot pointed forward and spread just lateral of the midline. Stable. Natural. And virtually the same as the Taiji single-whip stance in the form I'm learning. Despite what was happening on the wave, I just couldn't get thrown. I had all the timing and control I needed. I spotted the swell bulging and stretching, and knew it would practically break on top of me with a new pocket, just as another 2nd peak-er wiped off the same swell at the end of his own good ride. He hooted an affirmative as I dropped in. A couple other guys to my right were howling as I cruised that bulging wave shoulder, turned some, shot into whitewater and bent low to skim through it, and let myself be propelled forward after the wave closed out behind me. For the surf out there, it was an epic ride for me. I couldn't even wollop or give a victory cry myself: my soul was singing so loudly then and my focus burning right through the water.

Paddling back out, I studied more carefully the footing of the great waveriders out there (I had a dangerously close front-row seat, probably too close to the wave faces), and their stance was similar to what I'd just discovered: back foot angled 45 degrees, which offers a solid plant for stability & maneuverability. "Sounds like you found the sweet spot on that board," John said later when I told him about this at school. The psychology geek in me finds breakthroughs and the ability to do something new a mysterious unfolding. How did this development happen? Am I emulating & modeling the good surfers on the water unconsciously? (If so, that's the last time I complain about there being "too many good surfers" on the water while I learn what I can).

I've struggled with form in surfing for a while now. Another surfer friend recently pointed out that since I don't skate or snowboard, and I'm only 2 1/2 months into it, I don't have a lot of transferrable skills, other than swimming and yoga (+ being bipedal for 30 years). Today it all just happened before I could over-think it. After struggling forever to get a stance down, and worrying solely on drop-ins for such a long time (I kept tanking my nose as it got sucked under the wave), several things met together for the first time: reading the wave, positioning at the soon-to-emerge pocket, laying on my board just right, popping up just as I caught it, footing, avoiding other surfers, etc.

Aikido training had similar experiences. I was sent into my first forward roll by an instructor during a demonstration of shomenuchi-tenkan (a common beginner move). I came at her with a chop, then followed the force of the movement as she grabbed my arm and pulled me down into her center of gravity. I discovered something new: my body assimilated separate trainings into a synthesis of single expression, based on a response to what was there in the moment. I'll never forget the feeling of that roll. I didn't have time to premeditate it- it just happened. Same with today: instead of sparring with an Aikido instructor, I played with the personality of the wave and related to it- integrating these new, separate abilities into one seamless expression.

The Russian Psychologist Lev Vygotsky found that problem solving in young children is accelerated by about four years beyond their development when slightly aided by an adult as opposed to doing it alone. I think a related transfer of ability happens in art and sport as well, as we've all seen how proximity to the more adept can encourage growth at a rapid rate- even if for a short period of "peak experience." Vygotsky originally studied this with adults assisting children, but there is a universality here into peer relationships: actors and musicians can "bring each other up," just as teammates or competitors can do the same. Vygotsky called this the "Zone of Proximal Development," or Zoped (or ZPD). I'm guessing Zoped applies more generally as well: whether one is teaching or learning meditation, yoga, dance, somatics, weightlifting- you name it. Our peers and teachers can transmit their embodiment -and even abilities- by simply being around us. If we are consciously aware of this process, it probably accelerates our growth even more.

My friend Sundance said something the other day, as we talked about new abilities in surfing: "Ah, dude, when you do it once, you'll do it every time after that." Since the answer I give myself to every surf question or pondering is "get back out there and surf more," in that case I can't wait to do it again.

Labels: aikido, development, growth, martial arts, santa cruz, shortboard, surfing, taiji, transmission, zone of proximal development, ZPD