Shooting Stars and A Break in the Static

If you've been following my posts, or maybe if you've known me long enough to get through my tough-girl, overly organized, perhaps even confident alter-ego persona, you have probably figured out that I have some serious issues with identifying and knowing what I want or even need. Often even simple decisions with no consequences to speak of can be difficult for me; things like birthday wishes or playing 20 Questions. Decisions about more complex things can be downright terrifying. You see, I plan too much, so every potential option trickles down into more decisions and consequences and branches into whole new scenarios... waaay too much thinking, way too much commitment for someone who doesn't know what their ultimate goal is, where she wants to be, or what she wants to do. Being unable to make a decision to move towards something means that every decision feels more like an act of eliminating numerous opportunities than embracing one. It feels like backing yourself into a corner.

When I made the decision to take this trip, I made it on impulse and I made it so far ahead that it didn't feel real enough to have consequences. I didn't plan it, and I didn't really even think about it until a month before I left, at which point I did a fair amount of stressing out and second guessing. More significantly though, I started eliminating distractions, things I could use as an excuse to give up or prevent myself from becoming immersed in the experience. (Sometimes I think I should have left my laptop as well, but I'll leave that as it is for now. Somehow I don't think cutting all ties is any healthier than holding on to too many). Now that I am here with no job, no school to return to, no apartment needing to be sublet or appointments to be kept, I'm finding myself with very few contrived criteria to base my decisions on. I don't have a schedule, so I don't have to drag myself out of bed early to run in the dark and cold when my body wants none of it. I don't have to cram social events in between shifts at Moosejaw, job hunting, and study sessions (or vice versa).

I am facing having to make daily, simple decisions based upon how I feel and what I want, and it has been hard to get used to. I have used all sorts of strange criteria to try to have logical reasons for what I'm doing like 'The tide is too low to surf now.' as if I'm good enough for it to matter, or 'If I do that now I'll have to reapply sunscreen and it's expensive here' which erally meant I don';t feel like it and I'm judgmental so I'd feel lazy if I don't find some justification. The last couple of days I've started to feel just a bit more comfortable with this new pace of life. I've slept in. My roommate even commented to me that I seemed to have chilled out a bit. (Not that it takes a lot to meet that criteria, but I'm stoked it's even noticeable).

 Full moon in Santa Teresa

I didn't really notice things changing until last night though. I'd been talking to a friend online and after saying goodnight I suddenly felt this intense sadness, not an unpleasant feeling, just the kind of sadness that comes from missing someone you love. I was tired, but couldn't sleep so I went outside and laid in the hammock on the porch with a view of a clear night's sky through breaks in the trees. I sat for an hour or so with my thoughts drifting, listening to the roar of the distant surf and watching the sky. I almost missed the tiny streak of light passing through a gap in the palm fronds: a shooting star. Almost before I knew what I was seeing I had made a wish. There was no thinking involved, no logical reasoning. I knew exactly what I wanted in that moment. It may seem incredibly trivial,  we are talking after all about a child's tradition, but for me it is a notable change and a small triumph. Maybe this crazy quest I'm on is working. Maybe by eliminating some of the static, the artificial values and guidelines, I'm allowing myself to relearn how to know what I want. Childish or not, I'm taking that little glimmer of hope in the form of some burning space debris and I'm going to hold onto it. And if my wish does come true, that will just be a bonus.

Lessons from Aggro Surfers

I had a nasty run in with a rather aggro surfer yesterday that had me thinking about a few things; my reaction (not what I'd like it to be), the presence of aggressive, competitive or possessive people in sports and activities, and best of all about a few things I really like about myself and my friends. So here goes.  It's a hodge-podge of thought all loosely centered around one experience, so bear with me.

So the last couple of days I've been out surfing at various times in the morning and I keep encountering this same group of surfers. They're not locals and the chick is pretty hot (yes I am allowed to appreciate this too.) and seems to have taken a liking to me as one of the only other girls out there. Surfer-girls, rather pleasantly, often seem to stick together which is great. The guy is a douche. He surfs with bright orange earplugs in, which is your first warning. And he seems to follow me wherever I paddle and is constantly competing with me for waves. This in itself isn't a problem. There are only so many waves and a lot of people, so just like in mountain biking and other sports there are guidelines for who has right-of-way. Sometimes these are local traditions, so I made sure to ask some locals when I got down here so that I wasn't stepping on toes and being 'that-chick'. I'm not the best surfer. I'm still learning, but I try, and I am sometimes a bit self conscious about my shortcomings as a surfer. Yesterday was a bit crowded and I was struggling to read the breaks with a new swell coming in. I missed a lot of waves on my own, but this guy kept cutting me off, hanging out just inside so that anytime I started gunning for a wave, he'd go for it as well. I always held back if he was in a better position, but I wasn't letting him intimidate me either, so when I had right of way I went for it. Sometimes he'd be in the way and I'd  have to bail. I took a few beatings for the trouble, but it didn't bother me much. Later in the session though he started signalling to me and when he had my attention shakes his finger at me like he's scolding a dog and says in broken English 'No! I give you waves and still you taking mine. You paddle for my wave. No!'

                                                     A beautiful left-hand break at sunset

My first reaction, probably as it should be, was surprise and anger. WTF? Who is this guy to talk to me like that? He's not even much better of a surfer than I am and there's no name on the wave. To my disappointment that quickly faded into embarrassment and shame. Had I cut him off or dropped in on a wave he had right-of-way on? It happens to the best of us. I know  I'm still learning this stuff, and I'm going to mess up now and then. What bothers me is how quickly I turned what should reasonably have been anger at this guy for being rude to me when he had been doing exactly the same things I had, into anger and disappointment in myself. I am not particularly tolerant of myself and my learning process, so it really hits hard when someone else reinforces that critical streak that I barely keep beneath the surface. I tried to get myself to let it go, but I was upset enough that I wasn't having fun anymore, so I paddled in and sat on the beach to think about why I was having such a strong reaction. I mean, I was near tears at some point, which struck me as odd and rather inappropriate for the situation even in the moment.

I still don't know what all of that set off initially. What it does bring up for me now that I've walked away and let it pass, is that it's a pity that there are people who feel the need to take the fun out of things like surfing. I have seen it in every sport I play. I don't always know what drives the people who pick on or discourage newcomers to a sport. In the past I've struggled with it myself when I felt threatened by a talented newbie who, despite my years of training or whatever I felt should have made me better, was on the verge of kicking my ass. Being competitive or aggressive didn't make me feel any better then and I know the people who act like that don't go home feeling good about that climb or surf session either. Happily, I've all but outgrown that aspect of my insecurities and I find that I truly enjoy sharing the activities I love and encouraging newcomers to find the same joy in it that I do. I think that being on the other side of things as the newbie and receiving encouragement and genuine interest from someone with more experience helped with that because I recognized how much more enjoyable things were for everyone without the competition.

                      Roping up to climb on the best climbing trip of my life. 4 months ago we were 
                     competing for a job. Here we're enjoying an epic week in the Red

In the end this has made me think about how much I like who I am in this respect, and also how much I love the people I have found myself surrounded by who have a similar attitude: the community I have been a part of at my climbing gym and gear shop, the people I have met on my adventures climbing, dancing, and surfing etc., and the friends who have joined me and even introduced me to running trail races, mountain biking, and sparring. They have all helped me reach this point because I have recognized how much I appreciate their enthusiasm and how much I enjoy sharing the things I love doing. It is a much better way to live. In a world with limited resources and competition for jobs, education, and so much more, there seems to be no reason to create competition over the few things that aren't finite: enthusiasm, learning, and the joy of using ones body and participating in something. Competition has it's place to be sure, but there's a lot to be said for chilling out and sharing the experience sometimes.

*This morning I paddled out into some of the biggest and best waves I have seen yet, and into the biggest crowd I've ever dared to surf in. Every wave had 5 or 6 people going for it. On my first wave I found myself paddling hard alongside a guy who was clearly better than I was, but I was closest to the peak and had right of way. Instead of getting pissy, the guy looked right at me, smiled and started yelling 'You got it! Paddle! Go, go, go!'. I caught the wave, which ended up being a beautiful right and the best ride I'd had in weeks. When I paddled back out the same guy was there pumping both fists in the air hooting and hollering with a big grin on his face. He was cheering for my ride on a wave he could have easily taken instead. It made my day and watching the people around us I saw that everyone else was smiling as well.

Unhappiness Knows No Borders

I've been here a little over 2 weeks now and I want to say things are incredible. I want to rave about the surfing and the cool people I am meeting and how much I love it here and never want to leave. But I can't. The surfing is indeed great, and challenging, but after 10 days of surfing usually for at least 4 hours a day I am craving something different. I've lost interest. I'm getting hurt being impatient, and I'm having to force myself to go out. Beyond that there's little to do here.

Life in a tourist town is expensive and I'm uncomfortable knowing I'm spending money and not making any. the locals seem to be content to sleep all day, smoke marijuana, and work a few hours between surf sessions. Most of them work in the tourist industry doing things like renting boards or managing a property, sometimes tutoring visiting students. There is very little industry, few opportunities for work. I'm struggling with some guilt issues too. I know I came here to learn how to live differently, and I knew it wouldn't be easy. Today I'm wondering if I can do it. Can I live a life that isn't productive, a life of simple subsistence? I'm not really doing that right now either since I'm living on my savings, but the question remains. I've considered starting a pole studio here, but that voice in the back of my head keeps telling me what a fuck up I would be if I did that and wasted the two degrees and 8 years of hard work to earn them. I know I'm capable, I just don't know what I want. And when I don't know what I want I tend to grasp onto being productive and useful to others to save me from feeling worthless.

Here in Costa Rica surfing and doing nothing at all I feel incredibly worthless. I feel like a failure. And I'm not coping with it well. I'm finding myself lonely and isolated, in part by language barriers and this odd separation between locals and tourists, in part by my own depression. I'm struggling with my eating disorder. And a lot of me just wants to go home. Well, not really to go home, since there is no home anymore. There is no going back. That phase of my life with school, part-time work, and stalling the inevitable need to make a decision about the next phase of my life has passed. I don't think this trip was an attempt on my part to continue stalling. I think it was a desperate huck for a handhold I didn't know if I could reach, hoping that even if it went wrong I'd come away knowing something more. So far I haven't discovered anything I didn't already know. I've had some interesting experiences, but overall I've just reiterated the fact that you can't run from your demons. They follow you no matter what exotic country you run off to. My struggles with self worth and lack of direction and motivation are as oppressive here as ever. And I feel guilty about that. Here I've created this opportunity for myself and I don't feel like I'm living up to it. I didn't think I had any expectations about all of this, but apparently I did somewhere in the back of my mind. How else could I feel so disappointed in myself right now.

I just wish I knew what I was waiting for. It feels like waiting anyway. I've tried just doing in the hopes I'd stumble upon something. Now I'm trying waiting. Neither is working. I am unhappy doing nothing. I don't know if that's okay or not. I don't think I'm okay. I feel like time is running out. And I don't know how to fix myself and be a responsible adult at the same time. I must have missed something important in the growing up process, back when there was a safety net. I don't consider myself an immature person, but today I feel like a child.