Evan (and team),
Hope you'll excuse a little personal anecdote in exchange for a picture of one of your slaps in the wild.
I hit a wall last week. Too much work. Too much being busy doing sh#t that doesn't matter. Not enough time alone, or outside, or with people that make me better just by being around them. Draining the tank faster than I could fill it. I was burnt out, angry, sad, and numb. My boss sent me home for a week to "get better," as if it took me a week to get to this place and I could dig my way back out just as fast.
I feel most at ease, most still, most quiet—most myself—when I'm out on the water. I've been going out every day to try to remind myself of what matters. This society demands we do more with less and do it faster. Faster. Always faster. And it makes us sloppy in our work, in our relationships, and in the way we think and feel. Hell, it even demands we get better faster. And it doesn't work that way.
Someone I respect a lot once told me: "take your time; it goes faster." So I'm slowing life down. Taking time to listen, think, and just, you know, float. I have a few of your patches and stickers in my car and on my medic bag, but never thought to put one on my SUP paddle. Now it's there, a reminder every time I go out not just to paddle slowly and focus on form, but to just generally approach life a little more slowly. More smoothly. Because in the long run, I think it'll get me to where I want to be—to who I want to be—even faster.
Thanks for the nudge.
With aloha from Austin,