“A surfer who knows African politics? I expected the “shine the light now because that’s all there is”, very hippie sort of pick up line Billy.” She laughs
“Well I read a lot. I bet there’s a better way to say this Nicole, but,” Billy bites his bottom lip, “I would like to make you breakfast in the morning”
“What does that assume?” she chides
“That you like eggs, papaya, coffee and toast.” Smiling and kicking a bit of wave surge at her
“I should say something coy but the honest answer is ‘that would be nice’. Billy, you might be as crazy as I am.”
“Everyone is crazy. A lot of people just don’t know it”
“Breakfast better be good.” They play tag with the surge on the walk back. Half way around the cove Nicole just jumps into the sea, Billy follows jeans and all and they swim together for a kiss where bodies melt into one another, where the neutral buoyance in the sea allows them to meet as equals.
Innocence is a brave unconscious mindset that exists outside past and future.
Innocence was not always equated with naïveté and immaturity.
It comes from your heart, where you have no age, just the real “me” in the real “now”.
Half-light, faded print rug, bookcases, pillows, shirts off, except for her denim jacket. Nina Simone sings on the warm trade wind through the storm shutters. Shadows from a long candle as they share a bottle of wine without glasses or pretence.
“What’s in that “L” box? Good letter carving’
“Nothing really. The other sides have O V E’
Not nothing. It’s locked.”
“Personal stuff Nicole”. It’s not time to tell her about his mother’s wedding ring handed to him when she left his stoic second world war father, about the Purple Heart for “bravery under fire” but Billy knows he was shot in the back, last man left in the squad, running for his life… and the picture of Jake streaking across a big Honolua Bay wave. Which lured him to Hawaii to become a fiercely self-reliant, passionate surfer. Passion where your guts ache, the mind defaults, and dreams draw new lines across liquid sheet music. Like music, dance, sculpting, bullfighting or knowing God.
Billy was born to surf.
“Really just personal junk Nicole.”
Changing the subject he says, “That’s a nice jacket.” He’s half insinuating that it’s the tropics and nobody wears fur lined denim jackets… “Great embroidery.”
“Thank you I got it done in South Africa… it was a good year.” She smiles in a way that says she has no more to say on that subject.
They get it; no more talk about the Love Box or the jacket.
“It is just nice being here with you, It feels… good.” Billy speaks mostly to himself
“Yes.”
CHAPTER 5
Nikido was five feet tall, grey whiskers on his chin and gnarled arthritic fingers that never seem to bother him, and he wears a yellow hard hat every day.
“Coconut!” he’d bark, as if he was screaming ‘bonsai’ then tap his hat. Not only did it protect him from coconuts but it also made this square brick of a little man seem five foot five. Most people instantly recognize that Nikido is subconsciously connected to the natural rhythms around him. A symphony that put him at peace while in motion around the yard or at the sea. Being in his presence you remember that if the music is good you may as well dance.
Billy and Lloyd regularly meet Nikido by the Mango tree on the big black rock. The mango tree is the dividing line between the houses but really it just one large lawn with random coconut trees. On this sunset evening Billy and Nikido sit on “their” side of the tree and stare at the electric horizon. Billy says,
“I’ve been trying to think out what I’m doing with this too rich girlfriend? … And what she’s doing with me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Mind mind mind…tink tink tink! Now time whole world decide with mind… no more wisdom!”
“What do you mean mind?” Nikido laughs and slaps his belly then
Nikido claps his hands and shoots his left fist to the sky. .”Mind” tapping his hard hat with his right.
He smiles then claps his hands again and shoots his right fist to the sky… “Instinct” as his left hand radiates away from his solar plexus, then he laces his fingers and says “wisdom! Together number seven wisdom”
“Only number seven?” Billy
Chuckling Nikido presses his hands like trying to squeeze the mind and instinct thing into a volleyball, squeezing and squeezing from every angle as if he’s compressing the energy of his words. Chanting “instinct mind, instinct mind.” Then he throws the energy volleyball onto the waves and says “throw on the sea, now happening, no think!”
“Fate?”
No no no! You did throw!”
“So I have the free will?”
“No. now wave has, but you must throw. Now thinking no help so no worry. Is great wisdom. Number ten wisdom!”
“So don’t worry about our relationship… ‘cause it’s out there?”
“You throw?”
“Ya”
“No worry.”
CHAPTER 6
It’s a dry gusty afternoon and Billy’s surfing his third session of the day. Sitting on the board, legs over the side, comfortable, satisfied, tropical sun above and vibrant reef below. Waiting for only the choicest waves. An ocean-patience learned from years of surfing solo. It’s telepathy with the mind of the ocean: sensing the approaching set of waves from the slightest rise of blue water out toward the horizon. Like the thrust of a thousand mile whip these waves will crack onto the reef, all unconscious knowledge from a flash of undulating horizon. He just slowly, rhythmically paddles toward an intersection with the peak.
This is the rhythm. The sea bird banking off the breeze, the fisherman on the big black rock, a line in the sea and his mind spread out across the water. The spent wave slapping on the sand. The dropping sun ricochets across the winds pattern. A set of waves approach the reef and a surfer paddles the whole rhythm, unconscious, lit up and complete; this is the glory of being an amateur. Money would be obscene and doesn’t fit the recipe.
There are surfers who aren’t tuned in, they just watch each other for a sign and when a true waterman moves toward the eventual peak the ‘man on man’ surfer, the surfer of the crowd, can paddle ahead and take the wave that already has another’s name on it.
Billy chooses the best wave of the set, not always the biggest; head high and glistening. He knows exactly how each wave will gently foam at the peak in almost a pause, before the whole force of the swell abruptly hits the shallow reef and jacks straight up, thin windswept sun diamonds that will tunnel to a casual ending at the edge of the reef. All this knowledge is instinctual and slightly beyond three dimensional. It is difficult to articulate that moment... Billy just gives it a two stroke take off, fading left before snapping into a one eighty top turn with so much force, Manolete arrogance, that his fin slides out of solid bite, premeditated he drops into a tail first side slip, arms overhead and controlling the slid with fingertips and style. As he slides to the bottom of the wave he jambs his fin in and power carves up onto the silver green wind facets. The feeling is rat-a-tat-tat from the souls of his feet to the tip of his head and the wave begins to pour its colors overhead. Projecting from inside the tube and dragging a hand to pull up into this hollow water cavern, gaining wave speed over flat out board speed. Eyes on the oval opening, going for it, making it no matter what, arms forward and gaining on the moment until he was born, as casually as possible, into the blue waters at the edge of the reef.
Jake forces the gnarly passionfruit covered fence aside on this wind swept afternoon and walks to the seawall with Lloyd. Together they watch Billy skip across the wind scuffed waves.
Jake says to the dog,
“Lloyd, do you think we all are just riding on the good graces of the guys who won the Second World War? Falling away from their unencumbered goodness
and right thinking?” Lloyd looks Jake in the eyes,” I mean are we jettisoning chunks of deep clarity as we try to redefine the vision they left us?”
Lloyd looks at Jake sideways and brings his ball.
"So Lloyd, has Billy ever mentioned that he got a degree in horticulture and I got one in psychology?
It's true we chose UC Santa Barbara because of the good surf and the party atmosphere but, we did get the degrees."
Lloyd nudges the ball,
OK yes I got out of Nam because I’d studied being neurotic, but … but hey Lloyd don't put that guilt trip on me about not using my education. It influences what I do on the beach, and yes I get paid for being a pro surfer, it’s OK ya know? Billy was an All American athlete, he hardly had to study.”
Jake heaves the ball far down the beach and jumps into the water before Lloyd gets back to follow him out to the break.
“Hey Jake, what’s up?’
“Two good news and maybe a bad news” Jake offers his patented Cheshire cat smile
“Good news first”
“I’m gracing your waves with my presence.”
Naw that’s the bad news.” Billy gives him a splash
“We’ll I heard that Sunny Boy, Blah James, Baby, and John John, the hui bosses, are moving in with Nikido to help pay the mortgage. But, the other good news is that Sunny’s been voted out already because he wanted to put Nikido in a “home” cause he can’t handle himself well.”
“That’s bull shit, Nikido pees outside ‘because he hates wasting water and he stares at the sea all day cause he reads it like the New York Times! He doesn’t eat like us because he has a different rhythm; days without food, days with only raw from the sea, days where he eats one brackish/ salty mango under that skinny mango tree; he takes all day cause that tree only give a dozen fruit a year… and he yells a lot because he’s used to talking to the wildness of the ocean. He doesn’t need a “home” he needs a PR man and a government grant! Damn it!”
“Cool it Billy, Sunny’s not moving in now and they’re making Nikido his own place in the shed on the edge of the seawall. He’ll like that.”
“Who the hell are these friends of Sunny Boy?’
“Ummm at first impression this may seem bad, but really there good guys. Blah James is actually a great guy, big 6'4" Hawaiian with a black pony tail who grew up in Waianae the prodigy of warehouse thieves, he graduated to prostitution, extortion and drugs, Baby is his best friend, Hui boss, and once Mr. Body Builder Hawaii which is tough when you’re only 5’2”, seems like everybody owes him something, I think Sunny owes him his life ... oh John John is famous for sawed off shotguns.”
“You got to be kidding me?”
“They’re actually very peaceful guys, unless they’re working, basic long hairs really.”
“You gotta be kidding?”
“Don’t worry, they don’t surf. Except Sunny, who really would rather take weird drugs than surf.” Jake spins to catch a set wave. He is like Blues music; got the progression down, doesn’t deviate from the proven form but somehow there is an unmistakable style, a uniqueness grander than the form… he turns in the middle of the wave gouging a Jake statement, then snake dances four solid measures before seventhing the last carve into a 180 change, a cutback for two measures of slash and froth, before coming back around with frenetic snake carves setting up the speed into the tube, exiting with another quick cutback before sliding back over the top of the wave hooting with joy to paddle out and do it again.
Stoked and sitting out the back while the morphing orange sun accelerates into the horizon Jake says.
“Hey Billy, this IS a nice wave… “
Um, keep it to yourself man. Billy splashes at Jake
“Sure sure…I hear you’ve been up at Nicole’s house.”
“Some, she’s been down here more.”
“Good for you pal. She’s great but remember to avoid getting over committed. Girls like her don’t want any complications.”
“I know man, I’m a gardener and she’s independently wealthy but… we’re really enjoying whatever it is we’re doing.”
“Cool… but I think I should take you to Honolulu sometime, just the boys ya know.”
“Nah Jake, it’ll just cost me money and you’ll get twisted and I’ll have to drive you home.”
“Billy, when ya go to town you don’t know WHAT will happen. That’s the fun bit.”
“Maybe Jake.” And Billy spins to drop into another two paddle take off, freefalling but confident.
Watching the waves in the afterglow of sunset on the grass just below the stairs to the house, Jake says
“Those waves were great Billy, and I’m glad to see you can still snap into smaller surf.”
“I kind of got this place wired”
“What’s it like in a west swell?” Jake asks
“Not nearly as good.” Billy
“Where do you surf then?”
“Still here.” Billy smiles
“You oughta try the Pipe. It would blow your mind.”
“Well Jake I have a hard time leaving my back yard. Somehow it’s not the same with a lot of other people in the water. Ya know what I mean?”
“Well one of these day I’ll come get you and take you up to Pipe. Greener pastures ya know?” Jake senses Billy’s apprehension and changes the subject. “Hey Billy how much bigger can this place handle?”
“Not much more. It just gets mushy on the outer reef, but they always reform into something rideable in here.”
“Well you know they’re having the super contest at three different spot next year?”
“I didn’t even know there was a super contest.”
“Billy! This is big news for surfing. Huge prize money. One big wave spot, one point break and”, Jake pauses for effect, “a small reef break.” He flashes his eyebrows.
“I imagine they’ve already decided on the spots.” Billy says
“Well they’re not totally sure. The big wave spot will for sure be Sunset Beach, and the point is probably Laniakea. There’s no consensus on the reef because one or the other surf stars dominates the main spots. It’ll probably be Chun’s Reef unless I can talk them into this place...”
“I could see that coming Jake and I’m totally against it.”
“Oh? Well think it over, I know you want to keep it tranquillo but Billy you’d be giving back to surfing and helping me ‘because I could eat this place alive man. Plus you’d have a front row seat for the greatest show in town!” Big cheesy Jake smile.
Kiss off partner.” And Billy grabs the hose and squirts Jake down. Jake squawks
“What are you doing man?”
“ You need cooling down, and I’ve still only got a cold water bath inside so get the salt off and I’ll cook a Papio I speared today… like the old days, remember? No money no worries, fish in the fridge, papayas from the roadside trees, mangos, passion fruit, guava from the hill behind, sugarcane, breadfruit… the only thing to buy is beer.” Billy smiles
Billy throws Jake a towel from the veranda. “I mean it’s the ‘70’s pal, beers my choice, got to leave some of the ‘60’s behind.”
“That’s rich coming from you Billy!”
So sitting on the seawall sharing a six pack can jell into the center of the universe.
It is when your soul, spirit, will and body are being satisfied in a mutual sense, deep acceptance behind a six pack that smiles into elevated levels; dimension. How is it possible that this place is the center of the universe?, whether “this place” is a shared six pack by the dusty side of the road, an orphanage in India, or beers at the seawall where it’s not the words of the conversation but the friendship/healing from “the center of the universe”. How is this possible? Cascading back through the dimensions you get an in articulable realization that, yes God can be 100% focused on you both, Billy and Jake, yet the math from here, the center of the universe, allows Him to also be 100% focused on every, meaning every, soul… It is
not even a question. Yes here two friends, returned to one another by the sunset warmth on the skin, the third beer in the brain, and the unspeakable knowledge that they bath together at the center of the universe.
Jake suddenly jumps up, runs across the yard, hands Nikido a beer and drags him back to Billy, and the center of the universe. That’s just Jake. If it’s good, share it.
CHAPTER 7
Funny how a good friend can be someone, at first, you knew you couldn’t like…..
The broad lawn between Billy's house and the new neighbors, Da Hui guys Baby, John John and Bla James, has become a permanent Croquet tournament, Property boundaries are null and void and if you play with the boys its $50.00 in the pot. Today it’s the three of them, RB, surfing’s Super Comp director. RB knows everybody in surfing, speaks perfect “business”, wears the latest surf wear and you get the feeling he irons his board shorts , also a pasty long hair in shorts and black socks, Craig, “the Hui accountant”, who sits with Jake and Nikido watching the waves.
Nicole and Billy have been spectating these games for days on end. It’s clear the croquet combatants like a pretty girl as an audience. Finally Nicole walks up to the hulking 6’4” Bla James and says
"I've been watching you all play for days now."
"Ya we're getting the hang of it." Bla says in a gentle voice as if they were all country gentlemen.
“Well my money says I’ll take all of you.” She throws out a green eyed challenge and fifty bucks.
You’re in! Bla roars and puts a beer in her hand.
“Billy, come meet RB, we’re helping organize the Super Comp with him. We’re having part right out front here. Cool eh?” Blah says
As RB shakes Billy’s hand he says, “It’s a great venue, exclusive beach, elevated seawall, and the beach marshals live next door. Perfect!”
“Look RB I really don’t want it here but I also know I don’t own the beach.”
True, we have full State of Hawaii approval. But Billy it’s getting surfing on national TV and around the world. Billy the legitimate acceptance of surfing as power art is long overdue; like bullfighting, or sculpting, painting big canvases. You see it would be selfish for you not to get behind a program that brings credibility and legitimacy to what we do?”