the highly irregular life i lead becomes somewhat unstable, moments like flowers crushed in a fable, dragons and unicorns slaughtered for medicine, people are chances in a game they are trapped in. exits sometimes lead to the way in, and sometimes the end becomes the beginning, ambassadors from far away embassy's, rituals and protocols i fail to value as i seek a source code. 
one's trajectory is half true will and half destiny, it can only lead to neverwhere so i return to what i know. 
the waves are massive after a full moon in march, summers dying light casts an ancient beauty upon the place where shore meets sea. waters bath warm, surf has volume and force and my sessions last several hours. everything else obliterates, nothing exists except the surf. it's almost similar to the floating sessions where time suddenly ceases and you enter a void. similar but the void is not the ocean. the ocean is in time, the float tank experience are outside. if you want to live forever float tanks are the way to go, but that's not really living is it?
the surf is my pathway, it's inside my blood, i apply it to everything. some people have football, others fishing, some folk sail and others cook. 
philosophy sometimes finds you instead of having to go look for it.