Hello friends,
I missed my last few updates to you. Life has a way of dragging you beneath the waterline sometimes.
I used to surf a bit in college. A buddy of mine, Matt Rott, was an avid surfer and he dragged me out with him a few times from Riverside all the way out to Newport Beach at 5 AM. The beach is quiet at that hour. The light is barely starting to peek in from behind you and all you can see in front of you is the interminable horizon.
It goes on forever and ever. With or without you.
The water is cold when you first dip in, but you have to force yourself to paddle out past the break. The adrenaline keeps you going. You have a clear goal in mind: to go with the flow, raise yourself up high above the waterline, and for a brief, magical moment be boundless with the horizon.
You miss more waves than you catch. Either the wave is too small, or you can't paddle fast enough. Sometimes you mistime when you start to paddle and get sucked down into the surf. You can see the beach ahead as the forceful water overtakes you and you dip down beneath the waterline.
It's dark down there. Confusing. The surf thrashes you around and your instinct is to fight it. To reclaim your Self and dictate what happens to you. The surf doesn't care. It is as endless as the horizon, exacting an ancient power that predates everything we know or love.
Matt taught me to breathe in those situations. Steady. To let the surf take you down and to find comfort in the chaos. It passes over you and you inevitably come up for air on the other side. You always break back up to the waterline. You just need to stop fighting the chaos when it comes and rest assured that you'll see the horizon again.
I'm here still. Breathing. Planning. Dreaming, even. The book is done and will be available on Amazon for pre-order on October 7th. It's a tiny book with my tiny words in it, but I am proud it exists and am excited to share it with you.
I'm trying different things to get the word out on this book. ("What even is a Tik tok?" said the old man.) It is all new and exciting yet chaotic and a bit too much sometimes. I'll keep paddling. And breathing.
I hope you do too.
Until next time,
Christian
*Below is a piece on death I wrote after there was an accident right in front of my house overnight. A pedestrian was struck and killed by two cars and it stuck with me for a long time.
