Surfing, meditation and the luxury of being alone

I just meditated for the first time since we left for Buffalo. I wasn’t very good at it. (I like the idea of being ‘good’ at meditating. It amuses me.) My mind kept thinking about things. But then I would feel Chachi’s head resting on my thigh, or hear the birds outside S’s window, or have a moment where I felt peace with my whole being — just for a moment — before I started adding another item to my list of things I want to do.

I read somewhere that when you are starting out in meditation, just sit until your mind wanders away, then you are done. Because it’s tough to bring your mind back without judgment or feeling like you’re doing it wrong.

I went surfing off the coast of San Diego once. There were small waves, but S and I just sat on our boards, watching the beach and the palm trees and talking, the sun on our skin and our feet, ankles and calves in the ocean. It was the best day of surfing ever, and I don’t think I stood up once. It was nice to just sit in the ocean with my friend, and to watch the activity on the shore at some distance.

I meditate like I surf: there’s the way most people do it, but I just like to be out in the ocean, in a moment of stillness.

I run like I meditate: I’m not doing it for the split times or the glory or the speed or the bragging rights. I’m not even doing it because I want to; I’m doing it because it keeps me sane. I’m doing it because if I don’t, I don’t recognize myself. Which freaks me out.

Had a thought about airbnb this trip. We met a bunch of people in our house hunt, and when we told one of the landlords that we were staying at a place we found on airbnb, he didn’t get the draw. “Why not stay at a hotel?,” he asked. I basically said something like, ‘because hotels don’t feel like home and they are kinda sterile.’ But I could tell he wasn’t getting it. His perspective was if it’s not cheaper, why would we do something like that?

It’s got me curious about who uses airbnb, and whether it’s a class thing. (I have a voice in my head that’s all, OF COURSE IT’S A CLASS THING, SILLY!)

This is gonna be a bit rough, but it goes something like this. People with money can be more isolated, because often (but not always) we can pay for privacy, space, and exclusivity. Being alone can be wonderful, but it can also be lonely, so some people - I guess I’m in this boat - even though they can pay for a hotel, would rather stay in a stranger’s home, because it feels cozier and more like traveling to see friends. That’s the sought-after experience.

But if you are used to going to see family or staying with friends when you are on the road, staying in a hotel is a treat.

Or your framework is about making decisions based on what is cheaper. M and I talk about this a lot, because my buying decisions often take the top off his head. “You pay more for stories,” he tells me. And it’s true. We bought our last kitchen table off of craiglist and drove 45 minutes north of Miami to pick it up, and I was taken by the seller’s story about how this was the kitchen table that his girls grew up at. There were even crayon marks on the underside.

So for people who are more entrenched in their social network, getting away from it is the sought-after experience.

Or I could be making this all up.

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