you shall find
Periphery - 06 Art and Interrogation -08Ocean Community -10Riding the Long Wave -16Wabi Sabi Surf -22Shero -24Malama Pono -26Bee Kind -30CONT ENT S
-32- Peaceful -48- Shifting Intention -52- The Quake, First Hand -64- Coral Sea Love -76- Model Citizen A Call to Attentive Eating -78Breathe -80Gaza Girls -82Interview: Peggy Oki -86Men’s Surfing Vs. Women’s Surfing -94Arc: Lines of Flight -102-
Special thanks to all contriubutors for donating their work to make this a ‘zine accessible to all. Graphic Designer: Kristina Cancelmi www.kcancelmi.com
â€œYou can learn more about someone in an hour of play than a lifetime of conversation.â€? - Plato As seafarers and wave sliders, the ocean provides us with a space to exercise the most vital of human experiences: play. Sea Kin is a celebration of the ocean that connects us. It is a collection of stories, ideas and imagery from diverse voices within our surfing culture. We focus on community, activism, and ecology. Every being on Earth depends on the ocean for the regulation of temperature, air quality and, directly or indirectly, its food supply. Here, story and visual expression help us to navigate the weight of this significance. Sea Kin is also about diversifying the surfing mediascape in content and characters. The culture of our ocean play extends beyond the confines of categorizations like age, race, gender, and class. Sea Kin is a platform to voice oft excluded perspectives; those that make our surfing culture rich and compelling. This is a place for stories, reflections and ideas. Sincere, but not too serious. For a more inclusive, egalitarian, and sustainable ocean community. Please enjoy and participate , Lauren L. Hill Editor
Phot o Pat Stacy
P ROSE Phot o: Nat h a n Ol dfi el d
By Taylor Miller
Its nearing March again –prime surf time for East Coast Australia. Typically at this time of year, the swells spin off tropical lows that form in the North and finger down the coast…Noosa, Byron, Angourie…the hidden nooks far and between. The surfers know it, as with the industry. The ocean too feels the fever, and delivers. There’s the Quiksilver Pro at the Gold Coast, the Festival of Surfing at Noosa, all the stars arrive. Lineups packed and stacked. Got me thinking, as the days draw near and I am excited yet wary, about something I wrote a couple years ago in the aftermath. A small reflection at the time, reminding me to keep my head held high, to remain conscious, distant, yet present in the beautiful region that I call home …
My father skulked across to East Coast Australia all those years ago in quest of an alternative, removed from the quickly commercialising and plasticising USA. He found his peace sure enough in the rolling valleys and outdoor living of hinterland Byron Bay and never felt the need to leave despite the looming approach of backpackers, profiteers and developers of ill intention come knocking at its door. It was this backyard where my sister and I were born and we grew up among vines and brambles, jumping off the cliff down at Fern Gully and peeping about by the old Music Farm studios where the quirky earthy and imaginative people of the Bay would gather. This was the bush, additional to dusty long afternoons where we would duck in and out of seaside coves and bolt across long windswept dunes of salt and sand and buck about in the crumbling waves. From here we could watch our dad slip out between the rocks on his nine foot precious and gracefully drift around the corner gliding into a sun licked line of liquid. He would sit in that corner and wait patiently because he neednâ€™t engage in useless hustling.
It was this same peripheral approach that stood out some lifetime later when the surfing world descended upon Noosa, yet again. The old dog still hangs wide from the reeling spray of Boiling Pot by the National Park there and trims down the lineup. Itâ€™s now dotted with middle aged men or 30 somethings, kids, foreigners, SUPs, dogs, lawyers, bankers, art students, pros and dole bludgers, all teetering away on their glide worthy toys of choice. A gathering like this brought out beauty and brute. Richard Tognetti, head of the Australian Chamber Orchestra, strung his orchestral tunes across a stunned and beautified crowd one night as they gazed up to witness images of finless Hynd sailing and whirling across J Bay jewels on some finless trickery of his. Senseless foul and yakking fools mouthed off drunk in the streets nearby. And when this day was done, the people; the shapers, riders, players, watchers, feelers, talkers and doers collided and made one big mess of the place. The ones with good intentions absorbed the song and did what they did to keep a grin on their face and the ones otherwise minded, bustled about town, swindling deals and later on, would go wrestle their way into the lineup with an ego the size of their new black four wheel drive.
It was an exotic melting pot of characters and charismas that fell upon Noosa this year and simultaneously, the fortunate and unfortunate identity of the surfing tribe today was showcased loud and clear.
A rare person pointed out something interesting to me some days ago, at the annual Noosa Festival of Surfing event, about balancing oneself on the periphery. For after all, this crazy and yet so stunningly beautiful sport called surfing developed, in its modern period, from those seeking a peripheral vision far from the worlds they grew up in.
Margaux Arramon-Tucoo is a 20 year old French artist/surfer. She beautifully scribbles and paints on rocks, bark and sometimes even paper. Margaux’s awe for minuscule details is simply infectious.
ART AN D I NT ERROG ATION
What are Lady Waves? I grew up on a beach break, the Côte des Basques, surfing summer swells as the cold was beginning to hit every winter. I became most excited for those perfect small peeling waves at the end of the swell. They are friendly, beautiful, and fun; they are the swell’s lady parts.
Your work has been compared to doilies and mandalas, how do you describe your style? Human beings and the earth in a beautiful and spiritual union. This is what I want to show through my drawings. I started to draw flowers, with a lot of details to describe the smallest things as the most important because you have to spend time to observe and see them. As the shape of my flowers are round, they imply the cycle of life and balance as the way in any micro existence.
Any advice for living a good life? I always think that believing in w hat you do makes it possible.
I heard that as a child you once spat in the cookie mix at church camp. Explain… I had a lot to learn at t hat time...I guess back then they didn’t let us go running in the woods on beautiful sunny days.
09 A r t a nd s urfing by Margaux Arramon-T ucoo. Phot o: R u dy J acqu es
A Gathering Place: A Brazen Attempt to Define the Surfing Community
By Elinor Cripps
Community is the connection of people over time and defined by the boundaries of a place. Community is a constantly shifting idea and experience - particularly with the advent of globalization. Small villages have been replaced by roaring cities and the town square replaced by Facebook. Surfers are a simultaneously modern and ancient community. Its members: fellow wave riders. Its gathering place: the ocean.
011 Phot o: Cl a r e Pl u eck h a h n
012 For many, conventional communities are failing us. Families are becoming disparate, small village communities simply don’t exist anymore and it is easy to feel a sense of loneliness and distance in big cities. These are broad sweeping statements - but we are in an era where a traditional sense of community is being redefined at lightening pace. True community offers a sense of self worth, purpose, history and place. Modern community is displaced community. We place the burden of self worth entirely on the shoulders of one other partner (rather than the rest of the community), we confuse our leaders and idols with nameless perfect faces in advertisements, our elders just don’t look old anymore and we bond only in places of consumption - pubs, shopping malls and supermarkets. Perhaps land based communities just don’t cut it anymore. Maybe this is why a number of us are turning to ocean-based alternatives. After all, an ocean-based community is systemically different from land-based communities in a number of ways. Though a little obnoxious and ambitious, it is worthwhile to try and broadly outline exactly what defines a surfing community. At the end of the
day, what brings us together?
Surfers are unique in the way they connect. In the most literal and metaphorical way we are constantly connected through the medium of water. Wave riders are thrown together in a kind o f primordial salty soup. We are suspended together in an in-between space - half in the ocean, half in the sky. Here, what happens to one, happens to all. No matter your age, skill or gender that salty spray feels just as refreshing. That set out the back is going to clobber everyone, equally. For those rationally inclined, it’s comforting to know that a chain of water molecules connects you to your fellow surfer in the most elemental and intimate of relationships - touch. For those who lean toward an esoteric experience of the ocean, water’s ability to energetically cleanse or transmit vibrations might keep you perpetually coming back to the sea.
We are buoyed together by the most elusive of elements to draw boundaries around. Other communities find refuge in concrete, immoveable gathering places such as town halls, pubs, village centers, or Facebook walls. The ocean, on the other hand, has no stationary boundaries, inside or outside. The ocean is a vast, fluid gathering place that has historically defied markings except for vague names like the Pacific or the Atlantic. Even now when we collectively refer to the name of a beach such as Snapper, The Pass or Sunset we are generally referring to the piece of land that meets the sea, not necessarily the ocean itself. Once we are out in the ocean, it’s all the same. We finally cross that boundary from a controlled and demarcated land to an infinite ocean.
In this sense, oceans breed expansiveness. In the ocean, it is possible to see beyond one’s horizons. This is what makes the surfing community a truly global one. It is an absolute luxury to be able to travel overseas and connect with locals purely through the shared experience of surfing. While localism occasionally rears its ugly head, I’ve found that most surfing communities welcome other surfers. Because, after all, the ocean I surf on the east coast of Australia is the same one in Hawaii... in California... in Indonesia... in South Africa... How lucky surfers are to have such a vast and global ocean to call home. While we are a global community, we are also temporary. We exist for only a few moments when the conditions are right. Waves. Wind. Tide. Sun. A number of these elements need to align before we’ll paddle out and come together as a community for a few fleeting hours. Strangely modern I suppose. But at the same time deeply ancient. The rhythm of our community is in tune with the natural rhythms of the ocean. We have a deep connection to the elemental forces that have shaped human societies for centuries. We are not necessarily ruled by our clocks, but by the position of the sun. Surf sessions aren’t pre- planned in our daily organizers but dictated by the direction of the wind.
This is how we used to live before civilization and culture bubble-wrapped us against the inconveniences of nature. The surf community does seem to straddle both an ancient and modern divide. Yet, unlike many other communities, our history is not continuous. The Ancient Hawaiians were amongst the first to find joy in wave sliding. They were a complex culture. One that developed intricate and complex rituals dedicated to the art of surfing. With the arrival of white missionaries this culture was wiped from collective consciousnesses. Until the 1890’s when Princess Keaulani reacted against the destruction of indigenous culture and…surfed.
Phot os: Nat h a n Ol dfi el d
014 Modern surfing now bears little resemblance to its ancient heritage. Competitive, exclusively male and hijacked by corporate excess are ideas that come to mind when contemplating the modern surf community. Yet we are learning to draw on our ancient past and redefine “modern community.”
Perhaps the one thing that connects both our ancient and modern surfing communities is the unabashed pursuit of fun. As surfers, we take fun seriously. At its most basic, we come together as a community to ride little bits of fiberglass or wood on the surface of water. Why do we do this? Because it is insanely fun. I believe having fun is the most pure of pursuits. Playing is a meditative experience. Having fun is a means and an end unto itself. We don’t want to have fun to further ourselves, make more money, develop a better understanding of the world. We want to have fun... because, well, it’s fun. What a simple and timeless endeavor. Unfortunately, like the waves we ride, we are a fickle people. We are completely selfish. If the surf is good anybody else’s concerns become irrelevant. We sometimes loathe inviting newcomers to our community. In fact, we prefer to run over learners rather than help them. We don’t care that our surfing community has totally trashed cultures and landscapes around the world (in Bali, for example). I could go on but I might start to offend some people. I hope that at the very least, all this suggests that we are a real community. We have real attributes and real problems. At the very least - we have a real voice.
Let’s include the voice of women. For too long they have been pushed to the peripheries of the surfing world. Let’s include the lessons and histories of our elders. In our youth obsessed culture their wisdom is being lost. And finally, we need to rethink who a wave rider actually is. Humans are not the only ones. Whales, dolphins, fish (shit, even krill) surfed long before we ever did. We share our gathering place with other beings. We need to include these creatures in our community. We need to embrace our community for what it really is - the good, the bad and the ugly. We are more than the community envisioned by marketing gurus. We are a group of people connected by the ocean, our pursuit of sliding fun and our checkered history. We are a real community. Please use Sea Kin as a medium of communication within this community. Write in stories. Send us letters and emails. Tell us about your surf community.
You define it. Let’s start a conversation. www.THESEAKIN.com
015 Phot o: Ca ndice Oâ€™D onnel l
017 Waking up with the sun as the moon is going down. Four of us are on the beach in our sleeping bags, tucked under the outriggers of our sailing kayaks. We have been paddling and sailing down the east coast of Australia for three weeks now. We wake up, shake off the sand and form a circle in that ineffable realm between ocean and earth where surfers like to “dwell.” Thank you water, for lifting and lowering our forms south, for all the things we know and don’t know about your majesty. Thank you earth for embracing us and holding us while we sleep. Thank you sky and sun for illumination and colour, for pouring warmth into our human forms. Thank you present, past, and future beings who weave together the rich tapestry of life on this third stone from the sun. May we travel safe, and move without “causing harm on any level.” We slip into the sea on our crafts, aiming for another long day of paddling and sailing.
Phot o: H i lt on Daw e
018 Phot os: H i lt on Daw e
019 Our movements are dictated by the speed of wind and current that move us southwards. We move at three quarters the wind speed, without swell. Today the water is so glassy that the reflection of our triangular sails upon the water surface makes us look like airplanes. Two triangles; one in the sky and one in the sea. There is no sound past the breaking waves. No chatter on the hull, no wind through the sails and no roar by the ears. We are moving south about five kilometers from shore but somehow stillness is the pervasive sensation. The church of the open sky is in all it’s glory. Languidly, the sun ascends to a half morning height when distant sounds suddenly capture our attention. Claps of thunder emerge from the southbound horizon, yet there are no rain clouds, or any clouds at all, in the sky. Short, sharp bursts of sound keep breaking through the windless quiet of our surrounds. We all look about to determine the source of the reverberation. Finally, one of us spots a white wing twelve feet tall lifting up out of the sea vertically and smacking flat onto the surface water with an almighty bang. An adult humpback whale is sending sound signals, airing out its armpits, stretching out in the morning sun. Who knows why, but it is repeatedly slapping its wing on the surface so hard that we can hear it kilometers away. We pass by the leviathan and the activity continues until we head away from the whale and it’s solo performance. Sea people have told me that male humpback whales sometimes sing, tail slap and even wrestle each other when competing for the attention/companionship of a female.
With the sun three quarters through it’s morning journey, the wind sweeps up behind us from the north. Our quiet world without surface texture instantly transforms into a cacophony of wavelets riding atop swells travelling from the same north east direction. Moving at nigh on twenty five knots the wind sweeps us into our favourite mode of travel. Surfing! Our sixteen foot kayaks come alive with a good wind and swell. All energy and attention is spent steering down swells that lead to other swells that lead onto more and more deep ocean wave riding. A friend once described this as playing a game of snakes and ladders, when you connect the runners to each other you are landing on the ladders. When your attention sways, you might miss a tiny lump of water that could have carried you further and alas, you land on a snake and go nowhere. The perpetual feeling of connecting runs is like constantly going downhill. The only effort required is focus, speed and direction. The sun moves through its zenith and is well in descent by the time any of us attempt to communicate with each other. Hours spent surfing swells that are now around six feet high with another two feet of wind chop on top of that have held our minds in single pointed awareness. Nothing else exists. The nose goes under, or into the wave in front, you lean back and prepare to be soaked. The rudder is over powered, ease off the sail a touch. A set of larger swells entrained and moving amidst all the chaos comes underneath you and you ride each wave until they merge back into the surrounding swells. Sea birds hover with momentary interest. Flying fish scatter. Seaweed grasps the rudder. And somewhere around us are the southbound humpback whales.
The sun is now dipping down closer to the mountains of the Great Dividing Range, between us moves a shoreward sea of golden waves. We gather our crafts together, have a drink of water and generally speak over each other about all of our fun rides through the day. Undulating there many kilometers out to sea, we spot an immense shape moving within the rough textured swells. Through peaks and troughs of whitewater, wind, and spray each of us catches a glimpse of an enormous subaqueous white figure moving at speed. Collectively, our attention zooms in on the shape and with complete wonderment we see a fully grown humpback whale bodysurfing down swells with its perfectly white belly facing the sky. Just feet below the face of the swell the whale glides without adding a ripple to the windblown textures above. Our awe shifts into slight nervousness as we realise the whale is surfing straight towards us on the third wave of the approaching set.
Make of tha will but kno
Now only perhaps twenty five feet from us the whale lowers its right pectoral fin enabling it to roll onto its side and look straight at us. Without losing any speed or missing any of swell energy, it eye balls us as it surfs silently beneath our crafts. Whales surf! And, they surf with precision and grace! Incredulous. We watch the wave effortlessly travel towards the setting sun, carrying within it the immense form of the surfing whale. Like two lovers embracing each other in dance, the whale and wave merge into the shimmering prismatic afternoon light.
As we lift to the peak of the first wave we see the whale’s entire body just before we dip down into the windless trough between waves. With so much anticipation we exchange excited unintelligible sounds. None of them are coherent enough to be understood as language but Quickly we unfurl our sails and attempt to follow we all know what we are trying to say to each other. the set of waves encasing the whale. With typical human Is this really happening? Climbing to the top of the attachment we just don’t want the experience to end. As second wave of the set we gain a complete vision of quickly as the humpback emerged from the windblown the fifty foot long humpback still surfing on it’s back, deep sea swells however, it retreated back into the belly up, in perfect under water trim. Pectoral fins are myriad of waves. We continued sailing south, reliving tucked in as the whole body goes straight down the swell. the experience while marveling at how we crossed paths Yellowish barnacles contrast the angelic white of the with a surfing whale. Within the vast Pacific Ocean our underbelly that rarely sees sunlight. Its form is perfectly tiny little forms and that whale just happened to meet lit by the afternoon sun. The whale cannot be more mid face during high speed trim. For us, surfing would than forty feet from us as we lower down the back of the never be the same. That vision delivered the epiphany second wave and are now right in front of it. Showing that we share wave riding with other non-human no signs of acknowledging our presence its straight animals. Regardless of not sharing the same language, faced glide continues at high speed until we see a sudden physiology and capabilities, we share the same sensation of weightless and effortless joy from surfing. contraction in it’s muscles.
Make of that what you will but know this: the biggest hearts, minds and spines surf. We know this, for we have seen it.
at what you ow this:
the biggest hearts, minds and spines surf.
We know this, for we have seen it.
Phot o: L au r en H i l l
SABI SURF P HI L OSOP HY
Sustainable interior design consultant and surfer, Sally Stent, explains the ancient Japanese philosophy of ‘Wabi Sabi’ and how appreciating the ‘imperfect’ leads to our call to surf.
Have you walked into a surf shop recently only to see row upon row of identical, white, computer-shaped, modern shortboards? What does this evoke? Consider a dusty old relic pulled down from the rafters, its dings and yellowing foam speaking of innumerable hours in the ocean. Better still, a hand sawn and sanded timber board flaunting your own personal design. If the latter two scenarios appeal to you more than its shiny modern counterpart, then you have experienced Wabi-Sabi.
023 Wabi Sabi is an ancient Japanese philosophy that celebrates the simple observation of life’s natural processes, its key focus being humility and honesty. In essence, it evokes historical appreciation by signs of natural weathering , fragility and hidden minutiae. The philosophy continues deeper than the aesthetic realm, it goes “way beyond what our ordinary senses can perceive according to Leonard Koren, author of WabiSabi for Artists, Designers, Poets and Philosophers. It is a heartfelt response, experienced rather than created. Subdued, primitive and uncontrolled.
There is no English translation for the words wabi and sabi. Wabi originally referred to the loneliness of living in nature, a spiritual path remote from society; sabi signifies withered and temporary. In my approach to design, I feel it is important to allow these elements to flourish. They remind us of our connection to the natural world and our own personal vulnerabilities. Wabi Sabi contrasts modernism in all its forms. It can explain why some of us are attracted to a simple and resourceful life, going with seasonal flow and liberated from unnecessary material needs. As Koren explains further, It is “the delicate balance between the pleasure we get from things and the pleasure we get from the freedom of things.”
The ocean shows us Wabi Sabi as it humbles our demand for consistency and control. By producing dynamic displays of energy we learn to observe, interpret and follow this natural rhythm. For me, surfing can become an overly mental challenge. Sometimes to let go and appreciate an intangible, sometimes poetic, sometimes tumultuous experience is all there is to do. Spontaneously borrowing a friends old board for a quick afternoon session where all the elements are scrambled to just the right combination, can remind us that the imperfect just may be perfect.
Koren, Leonard (1994). Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets and Philosophers. Stone Bridge Press. ISBN 1-880656-12-4. / www.refound.com.au
Cher Pendarvis bio Cher Pendarvis was one of the first professional female surfers and was a founding member of the Women’s International Surfing Association (WISA). Cher competed amongst (and befriended) some of the most celebrated women in our culture, including Rell Sunn and Jericho Poppler. She is known affectionately as the ‘bookkeeper’ because she holds myriad stories of surfing culture’s past. Perhaps you have never heard of her, but you should have. Cher is a treasure to our surfing culture: she rose through the ranks of the sport from within, one of few women to do so.
Cher began tinkering with surfboard repair and shaping as early as 1966, credibly deeming her one of the most technically proficient women in the world of surfboard shaping today. As an Art Associate and Advertising Designer in the midlate 1970’s, she was the first woman on staff at ‘Surfing Magazine.’ She went on to design artwork for several renowned shapers and continued to experiment with board design herself. Today Cher works alongside her partner, Steve Pendarvis, in surfboard innovation, production and as a freelance artist in southern California.
025 Phot os cou r t esy Ch er Penda r vi s a r ch i ve
026 By Cher Pendarvis The rhythmic sound of wax being rubbed on a surfboard nearby caused me to look toward the sea. In my sight was a beautiful Hawaiian woman about my age. We started to talk while waxing our boards before the heat. We introduced ourselves - “Hi, I’m Rella Sunn” she said. The surf at Oceanside was fun that day and we both advanced out of our heat. We were at Oceanside to compete in the last WISA contest of the series before the first women’s professional surfing event, the 1975 Hang Ten Women’s Championships at Malibu. Rella had come to compete as a member of the Hawaiian team. I had earned enough points to qualify for the event too, and was surfing for California. We were both excited. Prior to this trip, Rella had not spent much time in California, and when we met, it was made known that she did not know many people here. I soon learned that she was a spirited Hawaiian, passionate about her life at Makaha, her daughter Jan, surfing, fishing, hula and local crafts.
She was a role model for many young Hawaiians and coached the surf team at Waianae High School - her alma mater. That summer we hung out and surfed together often, practicing for the contest at Malibu to come. Rella loved browsing thrift stores, and we usually stopped at one or two of them on the way back from our surfing sessions at Malibu. The surf at Malibu was good that contest weekend. We all enjoyed the event, there was vibrant camaraderie amongst us all. Rella and I encouraged one another and both placed in the top ten. I was so stoked that Rella made the finals. When Rella went back to Hawaii, we stayed in touch by writing letters and enjoying phone calls. She said she appreciated the Aloha that was shared with her in California, and she wanted me to come visit so she could share her Makaha community with me. In February, 1977 I flew to visit her. She picked me up at the airport, smiling and with a beautiful Plumeria in her hair.
I will never forget her warm smile and the Aloha that she exuded. We got my bag and surfboard, then drove the Farrington Highway up the beautiful west side to Makaha in her blue and white VW bug. When we arrived at her home on
“Girl friend! The surf is good and we’re going surfing!!” After
Widemann Street, she said
unloading, we unpacked my board and off we went to Makaha point. When we arrived, she promptly introduced me to her Uncle Buff, the Keaulana family and other friends at the beach that afternoon. The water was a clear turquoise blue and the surf was about 4-6 feet. The strong off shores lifted the curling waves and created ethereal rainbows in the spray. Before paddling out, Rella cautioned me to watch out for the wild backwash in the shore break. She and I had so much fun. I was very thankful to receive such a warm welcome from Rella and her community, and stoked to catch some fun rides.
3) 1. Aloha, Malama pono, that Rella, and I painted on the special longboard. 2. Rella, Suzie and Cher at Rella’s home in Makaha, 1977 3. Cher carving on her Pendoflex Angelfish, Women’s Pro Master’s in 1997
028 During this visit, she shared her community and looked out for me. We were close in age, born the same year, but she was blessed with deeper wisdom. I enjoyed staying at her home with she and her daughter Jan. If the surf was up, we went surfing, and if the waves were flat, we went diving for fish and seashells, gardened and worked on crafts. She took me to isolated beaches north of Makaha to comb for the shells that she admired. We shared an appreciation of beautiful seashells and all things related to the ocean. After I went back to California, we continued to keep in touch. Rella loved to fax letters and we sent notes and drawings back and forth. We continued to share our shell collecting too. When I travelled to Baja California, I occasionally found cowries and cone shells that were similar to the ones we found on the West Side, and I sent them to her. She sent me cowries and other shells from her home. Rella was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 34 and I will always remember her prayerful phone call that broke the news. Rella dealt with her illness with so much grace and courage and battled the disease for more than 14 years. When she was feeling well, Rella did consulting work with Patagonia and she came to California on a more regular basis. One summer Rella visited us at home in Point Loma.
Steve had just shaped a me a new 9 foot longboard, and painted on it was a dolphin that I loved and his happy drops of water. We also painted on the word ‘Aloha’. I asked Rella if she would like to add anything and she brushed the words ‘Malama Pono’ onto the bottom. I asked her about ‘Malama Pono’ and she replied; “Malama
Pono is very special, it means to ‘Take Good Care...of oneself.” That afternoon, Rella came to the Cliffs with Steve and I. There was a small south swell and the tide was fairly high. The water was clear and beautiful. We went downstream to inside Chasm where the beach was high with sand. We body-surfed the shorebreak and caught waves right up onto the sand, giggling and rolling with the surges like seals and sea turtles. Near the end of the day, we rested near the water’s edge. It was a blessed, precious visit. Later that summer we met Rella and Dave at San Onofre for a surf. The waves were fun and we stayed out for hours. She was riding a new longboard that Dave had shaped for her, and we traded boards, having fun trying out each other’s shapes. My board was a bit narrower, thinner and with more lift and release in the nose. The Pendoflex tail helped it maneuver and accelerate out of turns. Rella’s board was a bit thicker and with lower rails in the nose. It felt more on top of the water, was quick to turn, trim and fun to nose ride.
After surfing we enjoyed some visiting and had a potluck barbeque on the sand. After Rella returned to Hawaii, when I surfed, I felt her spirit in my board that she had ridden . . . it was almost like a hug or a soft voice of her presence. It was the first time I had been aware of the essence of a dear friend’s spirit imbued into a wave craft. I have always felt that our surfboards pick up power and joy from our surfing adventures, as we ride the waves . . . the mana and memory of the experiences. I told Rella that we loved her and missed her and that I felt she was with me and my board. She understood. “The ocean is the blood of the earth” she said, “wherever we are, we are surfing together.” We shared many prayers. Every wave is a prayer. We love to appreciate the energy of the waves and how far they have traveled to reach our reefs and beaches where we can ride them. Riding a wave is a celebration, and every wave is a gift. We love to ride a wave until its energy spills onto the sand, often visualizing prayers for loved ones. Steve and I ride long life prayer waves for Rella.
We always remember her grace and her warm smile of Aloha, and we are thankful. Rella showed us the true meaning Aloha … and so much more. Malama pono. . . Aloha nui loa.
3) 1. Rella and Cher in Point Loma 1996 2. Cherished cowrie shells from western Oahu shared by Rella
3. Aloha, Malama pono. painted on my board
Cher is a role model surfer by any standard. She is amongst the ranks of our ocean cultureâ€™s greats. To learn more about this amazing waterwoman and her current ventures, visit www.Pendo.com
031 The conspiring elements—sunshine, water, earth and, more often than not, bees, are focal in the design of most culinary staples. Bees’ performance of the ‘pollen trading dance’ allows fertilization and the fruition of many of our favorite plants: cashews, papayas, and apples, to name a few. Without bees to pollinate them, such plants would not exist. Onethird of the food we eat is the direct result of pollination by insects, most commonly bees. And the clothes you’re wearing? If they contain cotton, or any derivative of cotton, they wouldn’t exist without bees either. Cotton too, symbiotically relies upon bees for pollination. Like so many species, bees are under serious threat from the meddling of we humans. Pesticides, insecticides, monoculture, genetic modification and non-native species contribute to declining bee populations. There is also the mysteriously perilous Colony Collapse Disorder, currently dispersed throughout bee populations worldwide. Since science has yet to grasp the infinite intracacies of ecosystems, we remain largely ignorant of our footprint on our stripy friends. Nonetheless, we know that simple, everyday actions can help to support honeybee populations.
F i v e way s to h elp: 1. Fill gardens with bee friendly plants. Research which local, native plants that bees are attracted to in your neck of the woods. They should be high in nectar and pollen content. Encourage others to do the same. 2. Buy raw, local honey. This supports people (beekeepers) that are creating habitat for bees and ensures that your honey is as nutritious as possible. Use your honey in creative ways—on your skin, in your tea, and as a replacement for sugar in baking. 3. Buy organic, locally grown food. For our collective health, don’t purchase genetically modified foodstuffs. 4. Become a beekeeper yourself. It sounds crazy, but keeping bees is a whole lot less work than having a dog, and it provides valuable habitat for a species that needs it. It might also earn you some homegrown honey. Most regions have beekeeping clubs to help you get started.
Wor d s by L au r en H i l l A r t by H ug o Mu eck e
Story by Derek Hynd Illustrations by Christie Rigby Photo by Alan van Gysen
“Ask not what the sea can do for you, but what you can do for the sea” -Craig ‘JFK’ McGregor
Words by Leana Rack
Art by Susan Wickstrand
Joy rises from deep within and excitement rushes through Energy fields surround all things on the planet. Every field my body. Thoughts refine to the single fact that soon I will is connected; around us, the ocean, and around all things. slide upon the sea. When we focus on having a clear and clean mind, that Concentration upon anything else is impossible! The intention resonates though our energy field and permeates our environment. ocean’s watery vibration enlivens every cell in my body as I hastily fumble to get to the sea. I cannot reach the line-up quick enough. The soles of my feet skim the sand as I head As surfers, a clean ocean is of utmost importance. This is obvious in the physical sense, but just as true energetically. for the water. Here, I am connected. We often enter the ocean to wash away thoughts, feelings and actions we hope to forget; to cleanse these fields The ocean represents Unity; millions of water droplets with briny magic. connected to create what we know as one vast ocean, our precious surfing playground. As a beautiful metaphor, And the ocean takes them away. it reminds us of the interconnectedness of all life. In forgetting this connectedness, so many global and personal But, what if we were to approach the sea differently? problems arise. Instead taking a quiet moment before we enter the water to cultivate gratitude. Just to be thankful. As an individual, we can cultivate community awareness of environmental issues by taking responsibility for our own actions, intentions and motivations. By taking Since all animate and inanimate beings are connected, responsibility for our energetic vibration we positively changing our inner state alters our impact on all around impact the planetary circle of life and contribute to the us, near and far. In setting intention we activate positive energy and connect to consciousness in that moment. possibility of global change. Being conscious means simply knowing that every action has a reaction.
Stand with your feet at hip width and with arms by your sides. Steady your body and have your weight distributed equally, in your heels and toes. Raise arms over your head and interlock fingers, turning your palms upward. Inhale and stretch arms, shoulders and chest upward. Stay here or you may raise the heels off the ground to focus balance Draw your breath into the space created by this full body stretch.
2. Skanda Chakra (shoulder socket rotation)
Stand with your feet hip width apart and extend your arms out in front of you at shoulder height. Bending at the elbows, place your right fingertips to right shoulder and left fingertips to left shoulder. Rotate your elbows in gentle circles. For each rotation, inhale as you lift your elbows upwards and then exhale as you roll them around to start again. Make 10 rotations clockwise and 10 anticlockwise.
3. Gomukhasana (cowâ€™s face pose)
This is just the top half of the posture, focusing on the shoulder area. Place the left arm behind the back and the right arm over the shoulder. The back of your left hand should be in contact with your spine and the right palm in contact with the spine. Aim to clasp the hands or have the fingers touching, with the raised elbow moving upward and back, tucked next to your ear. Enage your core. Keep your spine straight and your neck relaxed. Take a few breaths in this posture and then change sides.
4. Dwikonasana (double angle pose)
Stand with your feet at shoulder width. Extend arms behind your back and interlock fingers. Hinge from the hips whilst raising the arms behind the back as high as you can with out straining. Keep your face parallel to the floor. Breathe here. Engaging your core and without straining your neck, carefully return to standing.
5. Padahastasana (Hand to foot pose)
Stand with your feet together. Bend forward from the waist and try to touch the ground. Bend your knees as much as necessary in order to be comfortable. You may also aim to touch the head to the knees or rest your chest on your thighs. Breathe here. Slowly, carefully return to standing without straining. Reference: Asana Pranayama Mudra Bunda, Swami Satyananda Saraswati, Yoga Publications Trust, Bihar, India. 1996
Pre-Surf Stretches 1. Tadasana (mountain pose)
050 Leah Dawson / Photo: Candice Oâ€™Donnell
The Quake Story by Angie Takanami Photos by Kuni Takanami
Our quaint surfside village Taito is a two hour drive northeast of Tokyo, inhabited by rice and vegetable farmers. It is also a stronghold of Japan’s surfing population. Here, earthquakes and minor tsunamis are common enough that all buildings in the area are subject to strict guidelines geared to the prevention of earthquake damage. When the quake hit, we had been building a photo studio and live-in cabin, a DIY project that unknown to the municipal. Kuni’s building skills would now face the ultimate test as what shook our afternoon slumber this crisp, blue Friday was incomparable to any past experience.
I am thrown from the depths of my afternoon sleep –a delicious escape from three months of daily morning sickness. Earthquakes have been scarce lately and I am caught off guard. Conditioned to a lifetime of inconsistent tremors, my Japanese husband Kuni mutters sleepily and unexcitedly “jishin” (earthquake) as I am desperately trying to stand straight. My legs wobble like jelly on the rippling floor.
A sudden thud swiftly progresses into fierce ground shaking.
054 Instinctively embracing the surf stance for increased balance, we usher our petrified Dalmatian and Mini Schnauzer into the adjacent RV camper. The
Now, our Toyota Prius is bouncing in the muddy driveway, all four tires project skyward. Overhead, power lines are thrown around like skipping ropes and their poles are leaning at unfriendly angles. The tall Pines next door are swaying like a pendulum, their mean trunks unstable at the topmost branches.
tremors grow more violent with every step. Time becomes distorted. The back window of the RV exposes a brilliant winter’s sky; radiant and clear. The usual
“Kore ha kitto dekai” (this is a huge one) I say to Kuni as his hand turns white under the grip of my panic. We hold each other close on the RV bed. The cabin is holding together but what about our oneyear-old son Ryder at Kindy? The little bugger must be freaking.
chatter of birds however, is replaced by silent rumbling.
Our phones are dead and we look out at our car, still bouncing to the beat of the quake. Making a dash for Kindy is a risky option. Minutes feel like hours but eventually the earth’s convulsions give way to manageable aftershocks. We sprint to the car. The scene at Kindy brings a new wave of panic. The teachers have assembled the kids in the dusty play yard, square cushions called ‘zabuton’ are held over tiny heads by trembling hands and everyone is squatting in the dirt. Standard national earthquake procedure has kept the kids at Taito Kindergarten safe. Not far to the North, the same shake will soon culminate in the death and devastation of entire Kindergarten and school populations. Here, other Japanese surfing families are scooping up their precious little angels. Hastily, we wish each other luck, hurry back to waiting cars, engines revving.
055 Rusty old speakers hang from power poles throughout the village and are now repetitively shouting:
“10 meter tsunami warning. Evacuate immediately until further notice”. Phone reception is scarce but I manage to fire off a text message to mum in Adelaide:
“In case u c the news, tsunami coming. We are evacuating. Safe so far. Love You”.
Spared … and then there was Fukushima ... The tsunami dumped a handful of local fishing boats into the Taito fishing port carpark. Some older houses close to the river reported damage but on the whole, our town was spared. Areas an hour north and beyond were not so fortunate. Houses, businesses, villages and lives were crushed or washed away completely. The tragedy was far from over. Within 24 hours of the quake and tsunami, media images of the devastation up north were trumped by news of unexpected problems at the TEPCO nuclear power facility in Fukushima, 200km north east of Tokyo. Japan’s Chief Cabinet Secretary Yukio Edano reported power failures and tsunami damage but assured no dire consequences and urged the public to remain calm. Kuni and I entered into compulsive monitoring of the underground online news resource and followed Twitter and Facebook to find out REAL news. The agreeable rumor was that the facility was critically damaged and on the verge of exploding. Relentless aftershocks had the whole north east coast of Japan on tsunami red-alert, the highest rating, and as we prepared to evacuate further south the entire world was on edge with the risk of mass nuclear disaster. A quick look at the weather maps induced nausea as projected north east winds threatened to spout radiation all over Chiba and Tokyo.
056 We were left with no alternative but to bail as far south as we could go. We had shot through (Taito?) just in time as petrol, water and nonperishable foods began to grow scarce. By late evening our car was filled with the two dogs, our son Ryder, nappies, laptops, cameras, hard discs, blankets, baby food, cup noodles, water and spare tanks of petrol. It took almost four hours to break free of the traffic heading southbound to Tokyo, but once through the concrete jungle we drove through the night, our GPS navigation system set for Fukuoka, Kyushu, the most southern of Japan’s three main islands. Regrettably we were forced to leave Kuni’s mother in the lung cancer unit at a Tokyo hospital, however, like many elder Japanese she refused to come with us. Like us, some friends had already taken off, but the majority hauled up at the Ichinomiya Golf Club’s makeshift evacuation shelter, waiting out the aftershocks and hoping for an end to the tsunami red alert.
057 At 4am we pulled into the Fujikawa Interchange parking area in Shizuoka for a toilet break and a Red Bull. I took a walk under the blooming cherry blossoms lit beneath the yellow parking lamps and looked west to Mt Fuji, her snowy peak a mere silhouette in the chilly darkness. For the first time in 24 hours I took in a deep breath and wondered if this would be the last of Japan’s clean air I would swallow.
As we pass the one year anniversary of the disaster I wonder if the world has already forgotten about Japan. I write these notes from my new abode on the outskirts of Australia’s beautiful Byron Bay, where we have just planted a new organic veggie patch and filled the balcony with herbs. Each morning I wake at dawn, walk down to the beach and surf in the morning light. Our lives are polar opposite to those last few months in Japan. We didn’t leave straight away. When Kuni went up north to deliver aid to surfers there, Ryder and I returned to Chiba, attempting to live with the constant threat of radiation contamination. No surf, no sand, no dirt, no tap water, no local produce, no going outside on north easterly winds. Despite pleas from local mothers, the government approved the supply of fish, veggies and milk with higher than usual radiation levels to be served in the nation’s childcare centres, kindergartens and schools. TEPCO were still assuring the world that the nuclear facility was under control and there would be no need for mass evacuation.
The next few days, weeks and months remain a blur. Thousands of kilometers traveled, new places visited. We weren’t tourists cruising the open road.
We were exiles wondering if we would ever return. The Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant experiences three explosions. Our lives are on hold.
Japan is changed forever.
Nuclear contamination is ongoing and radiation remains a constant threat for the areas surrounding Fukushima, including all foodstuffs grown, manufactured and then shipped worldwide from there. It is uncertain how much radiation really escaped from Fukushima and how far it spread. Immediately after the devestation, many nearby beaches were empty, but as time passed surfers slowly migrated back to the ocean. Those who remain merge together with a special bond. As larger organisations remain quiet, individuals and small groups are rallying together to speak out against nuclear power, test water samples and brainstorm ways to remove radiation from the ocean and our beaches. The majority of Japan has returned to ‘life as usual.’ Responsibility now falls on active communities, most notably surfers, to unite, and support affected areas. It is my goal that every Japanese surfer can simply grab a board, paddle out and be at one with a clean ocean again. That they will again revel in fresh, healthy ocean – the water sliding over their faces, hands and feet without the threat of radiation poisoning. To Help: www.surferseyes.com
From Kuni Takanami’s diaries.
Aid mission #1 Sendai and Fukushima, one month on.
It is one month on. I travel to Sendai and Fukushima to deliver supplies to the local residents with Blue magazine editors Hayashi and Toida. Locals push on with courage. They clean the streets with their bare hands. Our job is to deliver them hope. The devastation is…there are no words…beyond the view of my camera’s lens is nothing but death and destruction.
059 Here in Fukushima, in addition to direct damage caused by the earthquake and tsunami, the radiation has destroyed the reputation and economic lives of the people. On top of this, unimaginable amounts of radiation was leaked and then deliberately poured into the sea. Now surfers all over the Kanto region head away from the ocean. Those who don’t spend time directly in the ocean don’t see the surfer’s fears. To all those affected by this disaster, I pray for you. I believe the souls of lost loved ones will shine through and bring hope from the despair. The power of the ‘rising sun’ will no doubt bring power to us all. As I stand before a shabby Japanese flag blowing in the wind, I feel the beginning of reconstruction already in place. There’s only so much I can do, but I believe there’s a force if we all hold hands together.
More than a month after the quake, I too have not been in the ocean. A piece of me is missing. Stabilizing the nuclear plant is looking impossible. There aren’t enough workers and high radiation inside the plant delays progress. Teams have been hauled in, workers found on the streets all over Japan, some wanting to help their nation, some needing money to survive. We meet with one team leader…he talks about TEPCO’s three monthly plan to stabilize the plant. He says they lie to keep the country from entering mass panic. The workers don’t know how much they been exposed. Many aren’t afraid to die. Maybe they will have no choice in the end.
Amongst the destruction lone waves break quietly into shore. No surfers ride them today.
“If you want something you’ve never had, you’ve got to do something you’ve never done.” -Oprah
063 P ho t o : N ick Le ve ccia
THE CORAL SEA
The Australian government is currently considering marine reserve status for the Coral Sea situated alongside Australiaâ€™s Great Barrier Reef. Enacting this status would provide sanctuary for all species that live within and move through The Coral Sea.
In the last 50 years, the world has lost 90% of its large ocean going creatures to overfishing. In order to protect such species, it is essential to preserve their remaining refuges. If legislation eventuates the Coral Sea will be the world’s largest protected marine area and as internationally renowned environmentalist Dr Sylvia Earle states, it would be “a giant leap forward for humanity’s custodianship of the sea”. The Coral Sea has spectacular coral reefs, remote islands, towering underwater mountains and deep-sea canyons. Its abundant wildlife includes whales, dolphins, sea turtles, sharks and rays; seabirds; large ocean fish such as tuna, marlin, barracuda and swordfish and a diverse range of corals and reef fish. Species like whales and sharks who are not confined to any single corner of planet ocean are significant to such ecosystems
P hot os : Xa nth e Rivett
Where is it exactly? The proposed Marine Park lies between Australia’s Great Barrier Reef Marine Park and Australia’s maritime boundary with Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands and New Caledonia. Due to its remoteness from land, the Coral Sea has remained relatively unspoiled.
What have we achieved so far? In September 2008, a number of groups launched a call for the Coral Sea to be declared a highly protected marine park. Australia’s leading tropical marine scientists, former Chiefs of the Navy, and national and international conservation groups have come together to ensure the Coral Sea’s importance is recognised.
Marine protection requires bold decisions A large, world-class protected marine park in the Coral Sea would make an unparalleled contribution to marine science and conservation. The Australian Federal government recognised the value of the Coral Sea by declaring a Conservation Zone over the entire area. This allowed for a full assessment of the conservation values of the area, but the zoning does not change existing uses. This is a temporary measure.
We need the government to go further and create the world’s largest permanent marine park. On 25 November 2011, the federal government released its draft plan for the Coral Sea. Calls to ban oil and gas extraction, but falls short of fully protecting the area’s fragile coral reefs and spectacular marine life.
As Sea Kin was being completed, the Australian government approved the Coral Sea as their newest marine park, with nearly one million square kilometres of clear water, coral reefs and protected marine life. The Coral Sea will be free from oil and gas exploration, and half will be protected from all fishing.
DIVING THE CORAL SEA Visualise standing on a mountain and seeing nature spread out, unblemished in all directions around you. As a diver, that is what I see when I enter the waters of the Coral Sea; an expanse of pristine coral reef thusfar unsullied by humans. The wildlife and wilderness is astonishing. Sharks, Tuna, Trevally and Barracuda hang out in the blue, cruising silently, with powerful muscles and sharp eyes. Darting in and out of the coral canopy are colourful reef fish. While floating there, you witness life existing in every small crack and crevice and in every layer of the water column. Floating beside coral walls I often shake my head in wonder at the variety of colours, shapes and patterns that nature displays.
The Coral Sea is one of the last places in our global oceans where populations of large, seafaring creatures still exist in healthy numbers. The apex predators of our oceans - Sharks, Tuna and Billfish – who’s populations have been decimated by overfishing in the world’s oceans, are still found here in significant numbers. It is impossible for any photographer to give complete justice to the incredible work of art that is the Coral Sea. Yet, as an underwater photographer that is what I strive to do. I hope to deliver a small glimpse of the powerful beauty that exists in this untamed part of Australia.
GET INVOLOVED www.protectourcoralsea.org.
The Coral Sea is one of the only places in the world where it would be possible to create a marine reserve large enough to protect the pelagic fish that roam over massive ranges. Please take a few moments to let our legislators know this special part of our world deserves to be a protected marine park; a refuge for our great non-human ocean wanderers and a treasure for future generations to see coral reefs the way nature intended them, rather than the way humans constructed them. Words by Xanthe Rivett
Aloha... I’m supporting a special project called the ‘Protect Our Coral Sea Campaign’. This is an initiative aimed at creating the largest marine park in the world, a significant portion of The Coral Sea. It would safeguard a significant ocean region against commercial fishing, oil and gas exploration and seabed mining. We want to protect vast habitats that harbour marine diversity in our oceans, from coral reefs to marine species, to deep sea bio-diverse organisms ~ some of which we may not yet know of. The marine reserve aims to protect up to one million square kilometres. It would be an ‘ark’, a place for inspiration and enjoyment, a place where abundance is preserved with legitimacy, a place of immense scientific value, and of course for future generations. So far, the Australian Government has had a positive response to our proposal. In their current draft plan however, coral reefs lack sufficientprotection. Only 2 of 25 reefs have are completely protected. Please extend your attention further and jump online to www.ProtectOurCoralSea.org.au (or TheSeaKin.com) to view a film showcasing our love for the Coral Sea and the magical creatures within, called Coral Sea Love. We hope that you are inspired to join our ocean community by visiting our site and participating in our campaigns.
With gratitude, Isabel Lucas Actress/Activist
â€œThe animals of the world exist for their own reasons. They were not made for humans any more than black people were made for white, or women created for men.â€? -Alice Walker
P ho t o : S h e l l i B a n k i e r b l u e s p h e r e p ho t o g r a p h y.c om
072 Haley Welsh
MODEL CI T I Z EN
is a Floridian photographer turned high fashion model turned photographer again. A professed traveling ‘gypsea,’ Haley revels in all things oceanic and beautiful.
As a child what was your dream profession? I a lways dreamed of being an Oceanographer when I was young. At about age 12 I found my passion for film and the camera in general. My dream evolved to photographing the ocean, till the end of my days... which is still my dream.
What was it like being a high fashion model? Being a high fashion model is all about beauty but a dissected beauty. Not the whole of beauty, just a part, the physical part. Physical beauty is easily diminished if there are no virtues within the heart and soul of a person. Beauty is not defined by the features of the physical appearance of a person, yet to even define beauty is to limit it. I think there’s beauty in everything and everyone.
Did you feel a lot of pressure to act and look a certain way? The pressure to be as uncomfortably skinny as your body will allow is constant. The industry’s rumor for such qualifications is unreasonably true. I can’t stress enough that we all need to just love our bodies for how they are, not idolize models that are sick from the unwritten rules of fashion.
Did you feel empowered or disempowered? It is what you make of it. If you can grab people’s attention and then turn it to say BlueVoice.Org or the benefits of eating raw, then take the stage your on and use it to enlighten people, then yes; empowering. If you sit back and say look at me, baby... then you’re just a sheep.
073 How is working behind the lens different? Does it give you more opportunity to use your own creativity and voice? That is my place ultimately. With my finger on the shutter I can creatively speak through my eyes. In four corners I can stop time and capture a moment for an eternity to enjoy. Iâ€™m just too unusual of a cat to actually be devoted to modeling. Iâ€™d rather sail around the world, photograph everything and write a book than just be a model.
Is modeling something that all girls should grow up aspiring to do?
Be beautiful, be a super-star, be yourself and accept yourself. But please girls, be a model citizen! We need more virtuous people to admire in the world and then your beauty will never age with time.
For the Love of Food A Call for Attentive Eating By Anna Weatherstone
I have a passion for food, always have. CON SCIOU S CON SU MP T ION
It’s of the bloodline; my mother’s family are farmers. My head brims full with fond memories of my grandparents’ farm as a child, picking and eating vegies fresh from the garden. Nostalgically, I recall glorious taste sensations; buttery, bright pumpkins, crisp green beans, sweet corn. In the last four years, since I moved out of the family home, I have learned much about where food comes from and the implications of eating healthily and ethically. Eating local, organic produce is one of the best things you can do for yourself. Organic food is mineral and nutrient rich. It does not contain harmful chemicals such as pesticides and preservatives. Such chemicals inevitably damage and deteriorate the body and environment. Every individual in the Western world is aware of this to some capacity, few value its worth. Some have little choice. Organic food typically comes at an elevated price – nonetheless it is a minimal trade off for personal health, a moral conscience and support of a cause that in time will grow to become the affordable norm. Please do your best to support local organic farmers. Find out if there is a farmers market in your town. Make the effort to do your shopping there, even if it requires generating more time. Consider the distance food travels; compare it to how you feel after a 16 hour flight plan with six stopovers. Empathise with the Philippine banana who is tired and empty upon reaching its destination. Waste and pollution are yet further reason of persuasion. You cannot get more local than your own backyard, and with time, the rewards of growing your own food at home goes beyond the body. It is easier than you think, rapidly it becomes a personal rhythm. Grow what you can seasonally, depending on your space and climate. It’s all on the packet, the internet or in common sense. To grow ones own food is more economical, and amazing to witness. If you have little garden space, plants will germinate in pots and or in bales of straw. The human body thrives on organic vegetables, fruit, nuts, seeds, grains and legumes. The process of meat and dairy production weighs heavily on the environment, animal welfare and on our health. I needn’t justify this truth. With this small message, do not feel overwhelmed but think, reflect and begin with small steps – remember the Philippine banana.
Chocolate Coconut Energy Balls
Desserts are my specialty. Please give this recipe a go. It only takes a couple of minutes to make. Make sure you eat a good spoonful of the mixture before you refrigerate! Chocolate Coconut Energy Balls (makes about 10 )
- 1 cup organic almonds or macadamias - ½ cup organic desiccated coconut - ½ cup organic raw cacao powder (similar taste to cocoa powder but
1. St. Augustine, Florida. ‘Old City Farmer’s Market,’ Saturday morning.
has not been heat treated and is much better for you)
- 6 or 7 organic medjool dates (without the seeds) or ½ cup organic raisins
2. Byron Bay, NSW, Australia. ‘Butler St. Farmer’s Market,’ Thursday morning.
- 2 Tablespoons organic coconut oil
3. Santa Monica, California.
- Optional: organic Goji berries, organic maple syrup, organic cinnamon
‘Santa Monica Farmer’s Market,’ Sunday morning.
Blend the almonds and/or macadamias in a food processor. Add the rest of the ingredients one at a time. Roll into balls (a bit smaller than a golf ball). Freeze for about an hour. You can also top them with an icing mixture of avocado, cacao and maple syrup.
Enjoy and share!
4. Haliewa, Hawaii. ‘Hale’iwa Market,’ Sunday morning.
5. Barcelona, Spain. ‘La Boqueria Market,’ Daily.
Donâ€™t Forget to Breathe by leana rack Awareness of breath is the most personal and refined conscious action. Concentrated breath awareness allows deeper connection to ourselves, our experiences and to Prana. The term Prana describes the life force that animates all things; humans, seasons, and tides, for example. Prana is the energy of all living things and sustains all life on the planet. Absorbing more Prana helps us feel greater connection. It is through the heart that we can access Prana most effectively. Practicing a simple breath sequence and/or yogic postures helps you connect to your body and your environment, open your heart, and activate your energy centres, or charkas. These energy centres run through the centre of our bodies from the base of the spine to the crown of our heads. With our hearts forward and open, we are more compassionate, caring and connected. Weâ€™re able to ride all waves of life with greater ease and understanding. As surfers we often speak of the connection we feel through the act of riding waves and being immersed in the ocean. With focused intention, we can harness this connection any time, whether near the ocean or not. Try this practice to cultivate awareness of your body and the elements.
Stand with your feet comfortably apart and gently close your eyes. Keep your spine straight. Soften your mind and focus on your breath. If you can, try to keep your mouth gently closed, the tongue relaxed. Breathe trough your nose.
Take 3 deep inhales and exhales. Feel the connection of your feet to the Earth. Feel your connection to sky and ether through the top of your head.
Continue with your deep breaths Focus on your heart and imagine it expanding with each inhale and exhale. On each inhale, imagine your heart filling with a white or golden light and on each exhale send that golden or white light into the earth.
Take 5 of these breaths. Notice your heart energy expanding. Before you open your eyes, set a positive intention. This can be anything: a word, goal, or affirmation for yourself or another. You could ask that the dolphins come to play with the surfers.
Anything that is positive. Feel free to ask!!
079 Imagine being told, at the ripe age of 17, that you’re not allowed to surf anymore. “Sorry, you are no longer young and free. It’s time for you to put your reproductive organs to use, tend to the family, and give up your sense of you.” What if that happened? Imagine the effect on your life, as a surfer, not to be allowed to surf.
Images courtesy Surfers 4 Peace
Halfway around the world, young surfer girls are being told just that – when they turn 17, or even 14 or 15 years of age, they are told that it’s no longer acceptable for them to ride waves because of their combination of age and gender. In Gaza, a brazen community of girls has taken up the sport surfing. The girls were initially taught by their fathers, and then aided by a number of international groups who sent boards and equipment their way. The Gaza Strip is a thin tract of land between Israel and Egypt edged by 25 miles (40km) of Eastern Mediterranean Sea. Gaza, though plagued by political occupation, blockade and violent bombardment, is home to more than 1.5 million people and has one of the highest population densities in the world. The majority of Gazans are refugee families displaced by war. Eight refugee camps house most Gazans where the United Nations delivers humanitarian aid.
Gaza, now under control by the Islamist movement Hamas, is increasingly conservative, especially so for women. Few women swim, much less surf— a powerful metaphor for the autonomy denied to half the population there. Girls that do venture into the water must do so clothed head to foot. Those braving the water face other threats, too, including the 80 or so million liters of sewage dumped into the sea every day. Despite all of this, a few young girls dare to ride the tiny waves of the Mediterranean Sea. Just for fun. In doing so they challenge traditional gender barriers and
redefine surfing as a different kind of radical.
Story by Farhana Huq and Lauren Hill
Imagine the potential loss. How many activists, conservationists, or world champions are we losing by denying these girls the divine pleasure, play and empowerment they might receive from surfing? Imagine the strong, capable women the world is sacrificing to the confines of culture. This is not just a personal issue, but also an issue of global importance. Sabah Abu Ghanim, a seventh grader, is one of Gaza’s first girl surfers. Her dream? To travel and win a surf competition. Given the political situation, resources, and cultural restrictions there, her dreams seem unlikely.
The ability to be in and play in the sea is a basic human right. If a girl chooses at age 17 to no longer surf, then that her choice. But, in Gaza there is no choice. As surfers, we know that surfing is a way of life, it becomes part of us. Young, surf-stoked Gazan grom Sabah has already made this discovery, “There is a connection between me and the sea, and there, for a little time, I feel happy and free. It belongs to me, and I belong to it,” she says. She too, is quick to lament what the future holds for her, “When I am older, my society refuses to allow me to surf. It’s shameful. I will keep surfing until then, and then I will have to stop. I will be sad.”
However, as the Gaza surfer girls come “of age,” their parents come under scrutiny from the community for allowing their girls to participate in such an unconventional pastime. And by “unconventional” I mean doing anything outside of the domestic realm beyond adolescence.
Peggy Peggy Oki was the token gal amongst the Dogtown and Z-Boys skating crew of Southern California in the 1970’s. As a member of the ‘Zephyr’ team, she aided in revolutionizing skateboarding by bringing stylish surf aesthetics to the street. Still an avid skater, surfer, yogi, and rock climber, Peggy now dedicates much of her time to art and activism. In 2004 she founded the Origami Whales Project, raising awareness about the threats to cetaceans (dolphins and whales). Peggy crafts installation curtains of origami paper whales (the handiwork of thousands of volunteers) to “serve as a powerful visual statement and memorial for the thousands of individual whales killed since the 1986 ban on commercial whaling.” She transports the curtains (including the largest one with 36,000 cascading paper whales) or creates new ones through outreach programs in the United States, Japan, Dominica and New Zealand to raise awareness about localized cetacean issues. Peggy’s 35 years in the water attest to her heartfelt commitment to activism. Her ability to gracefully weather the dude-fests of the 1970s, 80s, and 90s hardcore surf and skate cultures, combined with her recent efforts, earn her ‘shero’ status from us all.
084 SEA KIN: Where are you writing from? Why are you in that particular place? PEGGY OKI: I’m in New Zealand working with local environmental groups in Raglan to organize activities for Maui’s Dolphin Day (10th of March). This will be their 7th annual event and I’ve been involved with the event each year, including two years of Origami Maui’s Dolphins projects.
ACT I VI SM
Scientists say there are only 25 breeding female Maui Dolphins, and teetering on less than 60 individual Maui’s Dolphins remaining. With a most recent confirmed death of yet another Maui’s, there is even more urgency for the New Zealand government to take all steps necessary to protect them. For this year’s event I’m coordinating a visual petition campaign for the Maui’s Dolphins (Cephalorhynchus hectori maui), and aiming to expand it as a large scale nationwide/international effort beyond collecting photos at Maui’s Dolphin Day. We will also have a screening of “Minds in the Water” which includes a short clip of my exhibit of the “Curtain of 30,000 Origami Whales” in Anchorage, AK during the International Whaling Commission meeting.
SK: You stopped skating for a number of years but picked it up again recently. For you, was skating like riding a bike—something you didn’t forget how to do? PO: After over a decade of not skating at all, it didn’t take long to get back into the motion. After a serious knee injury a few years ago, I couldn’t skate for over a year. It was amazing to be on the board again as if I hadn’t missed a beat.
SK: Style was highly valued in the Z-boys movement. How did the emphasis on style impact the rest of your life, if at all? That is, valuing the quality of movement rather than just the movement itself. PO: I’m still surfing and have gotten into rock climbing the past 13 years. Good technique brings a very aesthetic style of fluid motion on the rock, as well as on the waves.
085 SK: Are there distinct lessons you’ve learned in surfing that have been applied to your life on land? Please describe. PO: Surfing is like life in so many ways. It has taught me patience and persistence. The ocean is a place of impermanence, ever-changing, as is life and all that is experienced. *
SK: Do you feel like you belong to a global women’s surfing culture? Why or why not? PO: No. I see myself as an individual, having my own experience of surfing. That’s the beauty of surfing: you can have this independent experience completely on your own.
SK: What sparked your environmental activism? Did surfing play any role in developing your sense of environmental responsibility? PO: At the age of about 12, I witnessed a wetland being filled in to build a city upon, and open fields bulldozed to build apartment buildings and freeways. When I began to surf and see dolphins, I felt awe as I learned more about them in my early college years. Shortly after that, in the early 1980’s, I also learned of tens of thousands of dolphins being killed each year by tuna fishermen. And it was then that I first became an activist for cetaceans.
The ocean is a place of impermanence, ever-changing, as is life and all that is experienced.
SK: Do you identify as a feminist? As an ecofeminist? That is, have you encountered parallels between the way women and nature are treated?
PO: I don’t focus really on the separation between male and female genders. While certainly it appears that more women (than men) care about nature, I think it better to focus directly on what we as individuals (regardless of gender) can do to help protect the Earth and its beings.
086 SK: Why use art as a form of activism? Why not just be a field biologist?
SK: What keeps you inspired after so many years of activism and art?
PO: I am grateful to have studied field biology, as knowledge and understanding of scientific concepts is helpful to my activism now. However, rather than becoming a field biologist, I chose the path of being a fine artist. I think that art can be very far-reaching as it engages the viewer and is an activity open to all ages. And I base much of what I do based on what I learned from field biology. So the two worlds are not separate, but together for higher purpose.
Knowing the perseverance of those who inspire me, such as His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama.
SK: Why do you focus your activism on cetaceans? PO: I care deeply about many issues on this planet, habitat protection, endangered species, animal rights,... the list goes on. However, one person can’t solve all of the problems of the world. We have to “pick and choose our battles”. As a surfer of now over 35 years, I’ve had amazing encounters with cetaceans. I studied marine mammalogy and biology, mainly interested in cetaceans. I believe that when we follow our passion and working what we are most versed in, we can make the most significant contribution.
SK: Why vegan? PO: I have been vegan for ethical reasons for over 10 years because I did not wish to contribute to the suffering of animals. The condition of my health is proof that humans do not need to eat animal products. I find my philosophy to be in alignment with this quote:
“We must fight against the spirit of unconscious cruelty with which we treat the animals. Animals suffer as much as we do. True humanity does not allow us to impose such sufferings on them. It is our duty to make the whole world recognize it. Until we extend our circle of compassion to all living things, humanity will not find peace.” -- Albert Schweitzer
SK: For you, is the oceantric/ surfing life one of value, purpose, and fulfillment? How and why? PO: Being connected with the ocean and many of its beings brings me joy and peace.
087 SK: Describe a perfect day for Peggy Oki.
SK: What does the phrase ‘Sea Kin’ mean to you?
PO: Wake up early, take care of correspondences accomplishing goals with my activism, my daily yoga practice, surf perfect uncrowded waves in warm water, or go rock climbing.
PO: As humans we are connected by the common thread of our love for the ocean to the depths of our souls.
Eat healthy delicious foods: such as fresh organic fruit, raw trail mix, fresh dates, cooked steel cut oats, fresh organic veggies, and maybe not as healthy, but treat myself to vegan snacks including dark chocolate. When dining out with friends, I enjoy sharing entrees of Vietnamese food.
“Water flows over these hands, may I use them skillfully to preserve our precious planet” ~ Thich Nhat Hahn ~
â€œHumanity has advanced, when it has advanced, not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature.â€? -Tom Robbins
T op im ag e cou rt e sy Su sa n W ickst ra n d
MEN’S vs WOMEN’S SURFING An
NOTES FOR A YOUNG SURFER
C L I F T O N
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091 By and large the crew who I grew up with at the beach were male. My body appeared to be like the other bodies around me. I had a dick and balls and that was considered enough to allow me to hang out. My sister Amy wasn’t allowed to hang out with the blokes like I was, and to become part of the same stories. Amy was encouraged to hang out with those who had a body like hers. When I was a grommet I was assaulted by older surfers when I ‘fucked up’ by ‘acting like a girl’. I dropped-in on another surfer who had priority, and several men paddled over to deal out the punishment. One by one they landed punches on me. They grabbed my hair and pushed me underwater until I passed out. I was dragged onto the beach and told to stay out of the water.
I did not want to cry but I did; I worked to hide the tears with salt water. It was important to not cry or complain even though the cut above my lip oozed blood. I was taught to deal with the beating ‘like a man’, otherwise I would be labelled as weak and ‘like a girl’, and would not be allowed to surf the spot again.
P ho t o : Nat h a n O ldfie ld
092 Once grommets are familiar with the cultural rules about surfing and manhood, there’s no need for an older bloke to stand over and police them. They will police themselves. The insider knowledge becomes part of our body to the point where no matter where we are surfing or who we are surfing with, we will obey and submit to accepted rules and expectations. If we do not, one of our mates will quickly remind us to do so through bullying or making fun of us. When I was growing up everything called ‘female’— stories and insider knowledge—was coded as negative and unfit for use by me.
The opposite held for little girls. The system served as a template of what not to do, and also as a guide of what to expect in the behaviour of girls. It was thought there was an absolute difference between male and female bodies, and that which one you had would determine how you acted. What rubbish.
T h e
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n o t
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o f d o ,
w h a t i n
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g i r l s .
093 To reduce bodies to just being ‘male’ and ‘female’ is to generalise in a way that does not allow for the way our bodies are always changing, and life is always moving—we lose all the detail and differences that make up our lives. It would be like saying there are only two types of waves. But as we all know, waves move, mutate, change, twist, wash up and wash away—no two are ever the same. The pioneering French feminist Simone de Beauvoir once wrote: ‘One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman’. The principle is also true for men. We collect the insider knowledge of manhood. We soak it into our skin and develop a manly story, tastes, values and knowhow. It becomes so much a part of our body that we begin to think it is natural, even though it is not. It’s a script that is developed in much the same way that a dancer learns their steps. Girl and women’s bodies are exposed to insider knowledge that encourages and generates enthusiasm for them to be fragile, uncertain, delicate, timid, soft and self-conscious. Bloke’s bodies are exposed to insider knowledge that encourages and generates enthusiasm for them to be the opposite—assertive, hard, strong, bold, competitive, dominant, rough and confident. But in reality, bodies mix and match a range of human abilities. Biology is a lot more flexible than our social beliefs. The expectations placed on bodies to conform to one group or another is what leads to the ridiculous claim that girls cannot surf as well as blokes. Some women accept, and absorb into their bodies, such stereotypes. It means that some women will not try to surf boldly and assertively, even though they can.
Pho t o: C l ar e Pl u e c k h ah n
094 My sister Amy has grown up surfing and liking to ‘go for it’, and sometimes this allows her to become like ‘one of the boys’. But it’s a tricky position. If Amy behaves too much like the men, she’s called ‘butch’ or a ‘lesbian’. Amy is made fun of because what she does with her body unsettles the stereotypes about what is manly behaviour and what is womanly behaviour. A surfing instructor mate of mine claims that girls like Amy have trouble with their lack of upper body strength, and he takes this as an essential bodily ‘defect’. What he forgets is how blokes are encouraged to develop this bodily characteristic from an early age due to their exposure to, and encouragement to play, rough and tumble sport.
Such blokes continue to judge women’s surfing and position themselves in opposition to its ‘weaknesses’. But the truth is, pound for pound, women’s bodies are capable of doing the same as men’s in the surf.i For years Amy has had to overcome the cultural training that teaches her to understand her body as fragile and timid, and then learn to use her body like blokes have been encouraged to do for generations.
095 a n y o n e w i t h a
h a l f b r a i n
k n o w s t h a t w o m e n c a n n o t a n d n o t
s u r f
At the moment Amy is blowing up because she began surfing at a very young age, and her body has developed in the waves. Now Amy surfs better than blokes. Levels of skill, agility and coordination are the real points of difference, not whether you are male or female. I’ve spoken to some of my mates about Amy’s surfing. The reply from Bruce was that, “anyone with half a brain knows that women cannot and do not surf at the same level as men”. My mate Scat disagreed with Bruce and said the whole comparison thing is messed up.
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Pho t o: Pat S tac y
096 “Who are measuring Amy against? Professional male surfers? If that’s the case I’m shithouse too. “The best surfers could say that they don’t take our surfing seriously because we don’t surf as good as them. “Saying I surf like a bloke or like a chick is stupid. Amy surfs more like me than me like you (Bruce) because we ride the same boards and grew up surfing the same waves”. What I have noticed is that the more you pay attention to how different people surf and where they surf the more you have to throw any stereotypes about what women surf like and men surf like out the window.
The conversation over the brews was animated. Everyone fed off the stoke. The stoke led to us ask questions such as: what line is being drawn? Which waves are being chosen? Are the rides pleasurable and exciting? As my mate Toddy explains, he simply looks “at what each person is doing on the wave regardless of whether they are male or female”. Toddy sees the “differences in natural, personal inclination at critical moments and appreciates and criticizes them as such. The waves of the ocean are inherently democratic. It feels awkward to treat it any other way”. ii
i: Jennifer Hargreaves (1994) Sporting Females: Critical Issues in the History and Sociology of Women’s Sport, New York,Routledge. ii: ‘A small quick treatise’ http://endlessbummerny.blogspot.com
On a recent trip to Indonesia a bomb swell hit the surf spot Padang Padang. Amy and her girlfriends proceeded to pull into waves pitching further out than they were high. The local surfers hooted and hollered. The girls were slammed on the reef. Later, they compared scars over a few brews. My mate Jason didn’t paddle out, he would never dream of surfing Padang Padang. He loves his 9-foot log and long 3-foot peelers. Jason doesn’t feel the need to ‘prove’ himself. He’s happy just to cruise and have fun. He was happy to take photos of the action.
Arc: Lines of Flight words: Rebecca Olive illustration: Hugo Muecke.
Despite our feelings and our needs, the way of things never really flows in one direction They arc north and south, bending and curving in on themselves. (In)consistent, twisting, bent, warped, clean, curved, divine.
099 Time and light have smooth curves and clean lines of flight, into the unknown. We mould these curves and lines into our lives: aesthetic, moving. They hold us still and shift us through the world, earthly and oceanic. The way of things never really flows in one direction.