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Bluebirds

Bluebirds are moments in time when the magical intersects with the mortal, and in process, one’s grasp of one’s ability, is re-defined. A Bluebird moment is about education, preparation, trial and conquest. I have had a few of these in my lifetime. Here is an account of one of them. I began my pilgrimages to the North Shore of Oahu late in my Surfing life. As a young Pro, it was basically part of the ritual of a Surfing Education, that you go there and test your ability. Though I always sort of sucked at tests in school, I seem

Respect for the Subject

Respect narrowly defined, is examined here in this Wiki link. One of the key elements for a creative in a study of any sort, is respect of subject. But here is the twist. One has to respect one’s self first. If that aspect is not nailed to the floor of a soul, the oft times hidden elements of a subject, may never reveal themselves to an artist. But once those things do become apparent, it is self knowledge that allows for us to pick accurate lanes whereby we may expose, illuminate, and from where I stand as a human being,

Fall

We don’t get seasons here in California in the classic sense, where each turn of the page has a huge and definite tone, as in latitudes further North or South. But in spite of a more balmy and temperate nature, we have certain aspects that Californians come to expect, each Fall. As the artist Robb Havassy and I sat with long time waterman, fisherman, and surfboard industry icon Reynolds Yater recently, I thought to ask Rennie about this Fall and whether he had ever seen anything like it? His answer? “Never” That said a lot to me. Weather is one

Jay Moriarty

Some people live in such a manner, that their exploits and attitudes define themselves, and become a part of History. It is fortunate to be around that type of person. You learn a lot. My fondest recollection of Jay Moriarty, is of him kick stalling in the barrel at Maverick’s, and smiling at me. A peculiar and unsettling memory, was getting a phone call informing me that he had died by drowning. I was driving South through Half Moon Bay, and looked up to see the Radar Tower at Pillar Point. The feeling of confusion I had felt when the

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