Yesterday I paddled out alone at Sand Spit, a surf break in our region that is decidedly wild. It's in a park called Montana de Oro. The gates were opened just after 8 a.m. by a state park employee. I suited up and walked the long path to the beach. When I paddled out, a group of young men had set out before me. I ended up near one of them, Dane from Atascadero, California. He was friendly and a little nervous--it was his first time out at Sand Spit. I paddled and paddled; it was a weird day out there, just wild. Waves breaking far out and then petering into nothing. It was exhilarating.
There have been shark attacks. A guy was killed a couple winters ago at the Pit (just north of Morro Rock) surfing on a boogie board
The authors of one study "estimate surfers are the highest risk group, with a 1-in-17 million chance of being bitten by a white shark in California. By contrast, incidence of death by car accident in California is far higher at approximately 9 in 100,000."
As my son Charlie put it: you have a greater chance of being killed by a toaster.
I have said this before and I'll say it again: I don't have a death wish. I havea live wish, as in live life to its fullest. Two things have helped to mitigate my fear of death: I participated in a clinical trial that used a high dose of psilocybin, the active ingredient in magic mushrooms. The two journeys I had changed my perspective on some things and showed me great compassion and love for both myself and the "other." And I'm just wrapping up The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying." It's a fascinating book.
I don't want to die. I want to live, take chances, to push bethind the acceted and sanctioned.
Anyway,, I have to go to sleep. Right now.
Thanks, everyone.
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