Alan Watts divided by Tiffany

Beauty is a strange appeal. There are so many layers. Power and freedom can never be safe. They are dangerous in the same ways fire and electricity are. Every experience of any kind will leave some if not many subtleties unexpressed. No one’s mouth is big enough to utter it completely, and ironically the fool who persists in his folly, examining nothing, will eventually become wise. Bear witness to what I’m learning the Chinese call: Li and Te.

To have a sense of the organic pattern (Li) between and in us all, endowing me, for example, with (Te) a magical virtue, the miraculous moment we feel the stars in the universe are no different than our own ability to be conscious.

 Power and freedom can never be safe. The configuration of my nervous system, like the configuration of the stars, happens of itself, and this ‘it’ is undeniably me. But without ego or justification, this magical virtue (Te) brings the pleasant awareness that things only exist in the abstract world of thought, such as terms and conversation, and even when expressed will inevitably be incomplete.

 Beauty is a strange appeal. There are so many layers and we will never bloom at the same time.

 “In the landscape of spring, there is neither better nor worse; the flowering branches grow naturally, some long and some short.”

No Yoga No Peace

It is hard to imagine that there is this gift of breath and delightful scents under our nose all day. And that, after all this time the Sun has never told the Earth: “You owe me.” And that, no matter how many times the shore pushes the ocean away, turning it back onto itself, the ocean never tires, never ceases her efforts, ever.

We should just be thankful for how beautiful nature is. That we still have clear waters and green grass, even after every horrible thing we have done to her.

When you see surfers in movies, you might think of a competition and a lot of people, cars jam packed, smiling tan faces chomping on something with reflective sunglasses on. You might imagine a ton of sponsors, banners, vendors, you name it and its there, quite the hollywood spectacle. But that’s not really what it’s like at all.

It’s lonely out there and a trying process just to get there, wherever it is you want to be. The strength to continue moving those arms and paddle because you musn’t lose the progress you’ve made. Don’t let the wave tempt the tip of your board up. Keep steady and breathe. Feel what is coming, but mostly wait for the feeling to arrive. And, after several hard conversations with yourself, dialogue you may have been overhearing between yourselves as they logically rationalize and empathize with everything and nothing, the feeling has arrived. She gives you a pulse and you know to turn. Its yours and you nail it. You knew to take your time. You stayed low until you were steady. You even forgot that there were things to remember. It was effortless and the best you’ve ever rode. You finish and when you look around, it’s just you. You to thank, you to impress, and you to congratulate. It’s been you all along.


F That S

2/27 /2014


F that S

So the above statement was used right after a woman started talking about her wasted life and figure. Wasted on years stuck behind a desk and an engineering career. She was prompted to speak about this as she compared what she called reality to the way our attentive and attractive surfing instructors live out their lives. In the sunshine, on a surfboard, free from deadlines and desks, office politics, and a system where people ask for raises, where they are sometimes even scheduled to routinely beg for appreciation.


Yet, we were thankful and thanked these men for sharing a bit of their freedom with us. The same freedom we were also born with.


If anyone tells you aren’t free, laugh as loudly as you can, and then run of course. And if by some lapse of sanity, you feel burdened by a weight that reduces your sense of freedom just take a closer or deeper look at who and what you are, what you have always been, and always will be.


And if by some stroke of unluckiness you find yourself in a circle where miserable souls try to tell you how a soldier or army granted you freedom,

tell them F that S!