In the course of a year there are inevitably ups and downs. 365 days covers a lot of territory. There is sunshine, then rain showers, occasional thunderstorms, sometimes wind. That seems to be the entire cycle here in Guanacaste. Not much to go on…… Some days the Municipality works on the roads, sometimes the winds are off shore, the waves get big, the barrels clean, the tides rise and fall with the moons. Someone has a birthday, throws a dinner party, invites you for fish tacos. Maybe there is a pizza pop up. Friends visit from out of town, departed from invariably busy places, searching for a modicum of relief. But for the most part this simple life employs a lot of quiet monotony.
There is value in this. Less distractions. The days present plenty of space for work (whatever that may be), often at a pace that is more nourishing then hustling. The slow push of the jungle, like honey rolling downhill, has its own unique sounds and stresses. But around here there is not always a new restaurant to try, or cafe to sample, or exhibit to see, so absent the crush of time, without the epidemic of FOMO, social anxiety is mild.
To spend these slow jungle days on creative endeavours and coffee is an absolute gift. The golden intersection of vision and good fortune. There are some days when the solitary dread of creation prevails, and others when the scales are better balanced, and the voices of positive validation are better served. Working to create an object, or describe an image for the first time, is uniquely human. Whom and where we surround ourselves with matters. The undaunted freshness of trees and salt water. The humor of friends and strangers. The inspiring talents of others. This organic stew shapes the course of a day, and the years which follow.
Speaking of good fortunes, yesterday was lovely. A charming Sunday in the jungle, loaded with the satiating ingredients that initially inspired this little shop.
There was an early conversation, IRL, about technology and our disrupted connection with each other. Concluding that the lack of friction in our handheld convenient lives is literally altering our humanism. There were demo tracks of acoustic devotional music by a pair of absolute angles resplendent in their love of Jesus and slide guitars. There was a surfboard being shaped by fresh young hands, newly exploring the devices and vehicles and programs that bring surfboards to life. There were four bar blues licks and simple chords strum by recluse rogues and social media aspirants. A messy jam session with freestyle lyrics in the softest harmony. There were young Hasidic Jews from Crown Heights buying coffee and chatting neighborhoods. Plenty of dogs lounging around. Plenty of fresh bananas and 180 gram vinyl records. A closing dose of Bonnie Rait and Alison Kraus and Ladysmith Black Mambazo. A menu of good vibes and simple living under a vaulted wooden roof with spider webs and a barreling ceiling fan. Some days the pieces all come together. For plunderous moments we are transported out of the jungle, yet entrenched deeper into the jungle. All things happening all at once….
It is always the people. Sure it’s selling surfboards and coffee beans and wax and keeping the lights on and the rent paid and accounts balanced. But ultimately the people make it. Some people arrive and bring their talents and excitement and experience and open minded bravado and just sit down or lean in, naturally lending fuel to the little fire of small business. I am so grateful for them. For these gorgeous souls that light up a room and bring talent and questions and courage. These diamonds. These avant guard blonde champions. It’s not a big party or a bunch of screaming people or a live streamed villa dj set (nothing against any of those events, of course). Today is just a few unique humans in the shop making surfboards and playing music and comparing books.
These are all just vehicles for connection. This shop and this work and these surfboards and this freshly poured over coffee. These vinyl records and these social media posts. All just modern excuses for curating connection. Recently I read an interview with the owner of Pilgrim Surf Shop in Brooklyn and he said ‘you can have the coolest records but if you don’t have the people it won’t work.’ That means a lot to me. I love my budding record collection, and love making these surfboards here in the back shaping room, but without the people to spice up the days and weeks and years there is less meaning. No lyrics to the chords. Waves unridden.
We had a lovely Sunday and I am grateful for the visitors. This experiment in the jungle continues.
