Diplomatic Surfer

New blog post - long in the making, but worth the wait! check it out at www.diplomaticsurfing.com

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Winter dreams

Slow winter life has arrived. It is, as if, the fluids of the world have begun to freeze in their veins, and coagulating into frozen lumps, they slow to a standstill. To the untrained eye it seems that everything has stopped, and that the world, before so alive and vibrant, has turned to stone and stands immobile, while time ticks on. However, things are seldom what they seem. The world may be dormant in winter, but it is not dead. Below the surface small green seeds push and struggle higher and higher through the cold ground towards the solid crust that contains them until spring. And in the midst of this stillness change announces itself with violent noise like icebergs breaking off the inland ice after having been attached to it for million of years, and then everything happens all at once.

For a surfer, winter life is first and foremost boring. There are no waves, and if there are, they are cold as the grave. So regardless of the seal of the individual surfer, winter is the season to wait, to get fat and to order new boards over the internet, as if the act of acquiring another board would somehow bring one closer to spring. And it is the season to hatch dreams. They grow relentlessly under the surface during winter’s spell, and this winter, the dreams grow particularly wild and strong under the calm appearance of our diplomatic surfer’s life. It is, as if, the dreams are taking revenge for the years, where she forgot that she is a dreamer, and they are shooting small green arms in all directions, and getting tangled into each other, making it impossible to figure out, which dream to follow. And choosing a good dream, is not something that should be done lightly. Some dreams are flaky, and although attractive and interesting and funny, you somehow manage to leave them behind on a greasy barstool, somewhere in the night, and when you return home you once again find yourself dreamless. Dreams have to be long enough, and detailed enough, for you to spend your life inside them, otherwise you will outgrown them as quickly, as you left behind your belief in Santa Claus. Dreams are demanding bastards too – they don’t let you be. After a long boring day at work, where all you want to do it drink tea on the couch with a good book, the dream starts nagging you: “When are we going to do something together? When are you going to ask me out?” and soon the few hours of piece and quiet you had foreseen are wrecked. So before you decide to go chasing after them like a dog after a stick, you have to be sure that your dream is worth the hassle.

Obviously, the right dream for our surfer girl involves surfing, but surfing comes in many different forms and shapes. Touring the world with surfing as a sport, backed by sponsorships and competition money. Moving to a warm country with mellow breaks, where your little money will go along away. Finding a job that can get you posted in a city close to the water, where surfing is an option every weekend. As she walks the winter streets, these ideas grow and then suddenly fade, as she thinks of all the obstacles, which has to be passed on the way, and then they grow again as she regains her determination to live a dreamer’s life. There are still so many unknowns in the equation, but there is an unquestionable happiness inside her, when she thinks of tilting her board against the shaded bricks of a future home, after returning from a long day in the waves. Change is pushing its way through her veins, here in the winter cold. The ice is creaking in our surfer girl’s life, but the myriad of dreams are still pulling her in different directions. She cannot yet predict what shape the iceberg will take, but all those winter dreams are pushing her towards the sea.