Dec 31, 2011
My good friend Marina has developed a beautiful family tradition where, before we begin the evening meal, we go around the table & every one present has the opportunity to share what they're grateful for about the day. Someone might say "The surf" or "Ice-cream" or "My friends". It's a simple thing, but it's a wonderful way to practise thankfulness. I like gratitude because it keeps you humble & helps keep things in perspective.
I was thinking about the year that's nearly finished & reflecting on what I was thankful for about 2011. There's so many things, really: new friends, old friends, a journey to homeland, Basque brothers & sisters, gifts, sunrises, waves, fresh air, freedom, employment, food on the table, shelter, beauty, art, love.
But at the top of the list there's always family. I was reminded of this yesterday at sunset when my wife & I were walking off the beach with these three, who decided to carry our new Tom Wegener bellyboard on their heads, just like their Dad was carrying his log. It looks like a staged family photo but it was actually a moment of spontaneous family team work captured quickly on my phone. Thanks, creator, for the gift of my children & their lovely mum, my best mate. They are my heart's truest treasures & I am truly grateful.
Happy new year mates. As always, thanks to all of you who drop in to this small part of the interwebbery to have a Look & Sea.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 28, 2011
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 16, 2011
Blog posts have been a bit few & far between lately as I've been busy doing better things, namely beach time with my family & friends. Here's my Noa & I, sharing trim on our twelve footer shaped by Paul Joske. We have got so many loooong ones together this week. So stoked. So grateful. Photo by these good peeps.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 2, 2011
The second day of summer. It's hard to believe six years have passed since we lost our Willow. I'm feeling very fragile today, like if I tripped over I might shatter into a thousand shards. There's even part of me that could desire such oblivion.