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Cutting the cake of gratitude in the surf

October 9, 2015


Most the the time I sit outside. Soaking in the stillness. I see the pelicans doing their skimming, see the water lapping over the nose of my board, and lay across it and clasp my hands. ANd my voice starts to crack as I say to The Great Unknown, “Thank you.” I had gone through losing my hair, and so much lost weight my feet came out of my shoes, and wore cathers in my back, and tears in my eyes as the world swirled in a jetlag and hangover as I stirred within my chemo cocktail.In cancer, the sum of your parts is less than you

Cancer is the dividing line where you cut the cake. There’s the past on one side filled with unresolved sissues, regrets and hopes and disappointments but you have to live in the present to you cut the cake and the other side is the future, fresh and moist with opportunity and uncertainty and patches of doubt and rejection and you leave the stale fresh behind and the present cuts to the futureI resent—er represent that remark

And I made it back on this board, and in the surf, and I’m still writing, and reading books and thinking of jokes, and performing. And it’s all been so hard, but I keep grinding and believing. I will keep hitting the stage, writing, and paddling and loving.

I shiver, Bow my head. My throat catches. This moments come to me. I’m grateful for them. I know I have helped people. I know I learned my lesson and make a difference every day. Ah, to be giving this. When I was a kid how I always wanted to live in California and surf and tell jokes and write and here I am, and through all Pat Farley and Ranger, and the Santa Cruz’n surf shop and the boys at 38th I made it, I couldn’t do it alone, but I was blessed to make it through those rough sections to here.

So I sit outside and look through the crowd. The others are talking about sports or whatever they have to say to justify they belong there because they’re talking to each other.I don’t want to know their words. I don’t come out to the ocean to be false to something that is true to me. They talk friendly, then stop in mid-sentence to scramble for a wave. They stop talking nice then.

Then I turn and look into the ocean.

WHat will it bring me?

Ah here comes a wave. I see two girls on longboards scrambling to get to the outside. One trying to get to my left to cut behind me, and her friend paddling in front fo block me.

Well, I paddle, digging my arms in, all the Fred I have the chance to be throguh the power of this wave given to me by all the others in my life.

ANd watch out ladies, it’s time to cut the cake!


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