You and I

I remember meeting a surfer in Santa Cruz - my first time there to camp and surf. We were both out in the waves, breathes heavy from the icy cold water. My hands numb, my lips colorless yet pressed up into a half-way smile. It was mid morning, and the sun was shimmering through layers of silver clouds. There was a mist everywhere.. all around the beaches, up in the Redwoods - everywhere. It was the sort of morning when you aren't sure if you're in a dream, or actually there; the sort of day when nothing fills your mind except your own throbbing heartbeat.
I remember sitting on my board, feeling the ocean under my body, feeling it around my body, over my body.. like it was my body - like I hadn't "arrived" in a perfect place, but instead I had "become" a perfect place.
The other surfer glanced over at me.. flashed a grin, and started paddling in my direction. He came about six feet away and sat up on his board. "How's it going?", he asked. I just nodded. He smiled a genuine smile and then looked back out towards the waves. We never said anything else. We spent hours out there.. in the fullness of the waves. Surfing together, enjoying our existence together, finding peace together, laughter, our own happiness.
At dusk, as the sun was just hitting the top of the ocean, when all the oranges and deep purples and explosions of color consume your eyes, I paddled back to the shore. I stood on the beach for a moment shivering, smiling, and silent; wrapped my leash around my board, and gave a peace sign to the other surfer.. still out in the waves, he returned the gesture.

It is for only an instant that our lives touch as you and I. Whoever you might be. Perhaps you are the surfer in the Santa Cruz waves that day; you are the clerk at the gas station in Winslow Arizona when i bought that HERSHEY bar; you are the beautiful art student from Bennington that seduced my eyes; you are the vagabond in the back seat of my van that shared his whiskey; you are the hippie girl in the campsite next to mine at Bryce Canyon; you are the drummer on Kalakaua street in Oahu; you are a story in my story - and I am just a story in yours. How will that story go? Sometimes I forget about all the pieces that make up existence; that make up our stories. Those moments and those friends that are only an instant - those humans who were a flicker in my heart without a second thought. But that is a story too. What I say, what I do, what I speak about; my thoughts, my touch, my motion - it all becomes part of you; part of us. Like magic, the smallest gesture or smile sinks into our souls and shapes our days, it changes who we are, and how we view one another. Forever I will be etched into your mind, into your story, and remembered for that very brief interaction; for those simple movements.
How beautiful, to pursue even the smallest stories with awe? The seemingly insignificant details of the day, with bewilderment? If it is true.. if our lives are indeed all that we do, then even the friendship that only lasts 30seconds is a remarkable one. All of it is simply remarkable.






(Andrew Tipton)