High-fiving while wave-sliding is not recommended for beginners. It should be reserved for ultra-stoked and groovy types.
New adventures in new places. Quick trip to Joshua Tree National Park — never knew so much beauty could be found in a desert.
Trust the Music
I’m a long way from home, thousands of miles in fact, but seemingly not that far: “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster the People is on the radio. I’m in the back seat of a rickety taxi – it looks as though it doubles as a bumper car – which is driving me through the dark streets of Lima, Peru. The warm night air is thick with body odor and diesel exhaust. I’m in this car because once I came through customs at the airport, this man had a sign with my name and the name of the organization I’m working with. It was enough that I trusted I was in the right hands. On second thought, the sign was drawn with a Sharpie. I hope I haven’t made a grave mistake.
(Source: keepchasen.blogspot.com)
Dane Reynolds, Inc.
He was once so corporate.
But now he’s freelancing.
But he’s still corporate.
(photo: macfarlane/surfing)
Dramatic clouds + fading sun = California natural beauty. (Shot with my iPhone.)
Everyday. All day. Coffee. Yum, good.
(Source: 2headedsnake, via thankyoubrooklyn)
“Sun is shining, the weather is sweet…”
(Source: maryjaneflower, via nelsonserieux)
It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realize the world to be. The more I become aware of, the more I realize how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Maybe that’s enlightenment enough - to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom, at least for me, means realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go.
—Chef/Writer/TV Host Anthony Bourdain (reflecting on his time at Machu Picchu)
The Lesson?
Aren’t we supposed to learn something from sports? Aside from the health component, wasn’t that the reason our parents signed us up back in the day? It certainly wasn’t done so that they could spend their Saturday afternoons at an abandoned high school screaming in support of and in frustration at pre-teens.
We learned about teamwork, and how to show dignity in victory and humility in defeat. (Even if that wasn’t the case with our parents, who were cursing our refs and screaming at parents on the opposition’s sideline.)
We learned that orange peels looked funny as mouth guards.
All those valuable lessons.
Then we got older. We realized we weren’t good enough to “follow our dreams” and went to graduate school. But we still loved sports. We watched and some of us continued to play. We then watched as guys younger than us signed massive contracts to play the sports we used to play. They were professionals; we were men’s leaguers. That was the way of the world. We were content to be fans. Our undying support somehow would help and enable our favorite teams in our favorite sports to succeed. When they failed, it would be the ownerships’ fault. It’s the same thinking with our day jobs.
Then there was this Chris Paul to the Los Angeles Lakers deal. We fans were resigned to allowing Pau Gasol and Lamar Odom to be traded in exchange. Older talents leaving to make room for the future of the franchise. Such moves happened all the time.
Then rich white men complained. The man that answered to them, David Stern, listened. He raised his ‘veto’ stamp and slammed it down. The rich white men denied involvement. Mr. Stern cited “basketball reasons.” No further explanation followed.
The lesson: if you’re rich and you bitch, you can get your way.
I should have gone to business school.
50 percent accurate.
(via ESPN-Los Angeles)
I saw Jesus…
….he’s on top of a hill outside Rosarito, Mexico, across the highway from a fantastic taco stand. He watches you while you eat and drink cerveza on the street. He’s also on top of a mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro. Where else? No clue. Really exist? No clue. He makes for a cool statue and a fantastic directional landmark.
O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
—Mark Twain
