Breakfast on the Beach – Entry 4
2 Corinthians 4:17
Cleaning Wax.
When life really nails me, when my spirit is broken and I am frail. When I am at the end of myself and every last drop of ability to think, cope, move, and breath has been drained from my body I typically do one thing. Strip wax. I have surfed for about 15 years and the only fixed hallmark of that experience has been the spiritual restoration of stripping wax.
Typically it goes down in the garage. I take out several boards and a flat edged tool and begin slowly and methodically stripping the old dirty wax off of a surf board. It curls up under my hand and embeds in my finger nails. Little by little the surface of the board becomes clear. I begin to see blemishes and dings I didn’t know were there. They have been hidden under the dirty grimy build up of wax. Other spots remain as new, clean and white, smooth and firm.
Once the wax has been stripped I take out a solvent, poor it over the board and rub every bit of residual grime, dirt, and stickiness away. It smells dreadful, stings my skin, burns my eyes. Once complete, I shine the board with window cleaner. It is as close to new as can be.
The process is religious to me. It works every time. Somehow my grime and grit comes off in the process. I become as close to new as can be.
When I am done I admire the boards, look them over, hold them in the air. And then, without so much as an hour’s time passed, I ritualistically put new clean wax on each of them.
I take the old wax off to put new wax on. The new will soon be gritty and grimy. It will cover new dings and dents. In time it too will be stripped away. The process revolves.
That is was the board was made for. I guess I was too.
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