Gerry Lopez: A Man of Unparalleled Scale

People often experience significant encounters in their lives. I had many such encounters before meeting him, but they were more about projecting myself onto others. I admired people with a cool, unique sense of self. That's how it was.

It was for this reason that I was drawn to John Galliano and knocked on the door of his atelier in Bastille.
But Gerry was different. Rather than admiring his individuality, my heart was captivated by something larger that transcended it.
I felt the vast ocean in his presence. I saw the Earth in his eyes. He was on a different scale than anyone I had ever met.


From that day on, I pondered, "How can I become closer to such a being?" "Should I aim to be like him, or become a drunken old man of the industry?" The answer was clear.

True transcendence comes from becoming one with that fear.

From then on, I started heading to the ocean every week. I began stepping onto my mat every morning.

I was so unskilled in the water that I was tossed around by the waves like laundry in a washing machine. On the mat, I struggled with my stiff body. Yet, I never grew tired of it.
Just picking up trash on the beach made me feel connected to the ocean, and I felt a step closer to Gerry. With each new yoga pose I mastered, I felt I could better grasp Gerry's feeling.

What influenced me most, fundamentally, was his smile. He greeted this clumsy beginner surfer like an old friend with a beaming smile, so much so that I honestly wondered if he had gone a little crazy from too much surfing.

But as I began to emulate his lifestyle, I gradually started to understand the secret behind that smile.
For him, the distinctions between self and others, acquaintances and strangers, had vanished. He seemed to exist in a state where all things were one with himself.

This is speculation, but I believe this state of mind arose from confronting immense waves that would instill a gut-wrenching fear. When there is something to overcome, as long as it is a challenge to be conquered, the fear does not disappear. True transcendence comes only from becoming one with that fear. When I become one with the wave, all fear should vanish.

He is particularly famous for his relaxed riding style on big waves, and this style is undoubtedly a manifestation of that state. He describes riding through the tube, a hollow wave, as "being tense while relaxed."

It's an answer that sounds like a Zen koan, but oneness is a consciousness that transcends even such contradictory sensations.

Yoga: The timing of our encounters is fated.

However, I'm often asked questions like, "Has anything changed since you started surfing?" "Does yoga help with surfing?" or "Has surfing improved your physical strength?"
Frankly, while the transformation of consciousness through yoga is profound, surfing is not as strenuous as Ashtanga yoga, which is what I became hooked on.

Compared to the nearly hour-and-a-half of continuous breath and movement, simply floating in the ocean and paddling occasionally is not much.
Yoga is often misunderstood as something feminine and relaxing, but in reality, it is extremely demanding.



Paradoxically, true inner peace is achieved as a reward for such rigorous practice.
This isn't about calming down from exhaustion; it's about achieving a state of balance between the positive (sympathetic) and negative (parasympathetic) aspects of the autonomic nervous system.

It's like being asleep with a completely clear consciousness. Similar to Gerry's "tense yet relaxed state."

No amount of words can fully express it. It's like trying to explain the taste of a persimmon to a foreigner. "It looks like a tangerine, but tastes like an apple, yet it's completely different..."
So, if you're interested, please try it. You can't taste a persimmon without eating it, just as you can't fully grasp its color like a tangerine and texture like an apple.
Gerry once said, "The timing of our encounters with yoga is fated." So, when I met him for the second time, I told him:

"You said that, but for me, that moment was precisely when I met you. Thank you."
Gerry replied, "It's good we met in this life. But if that hadn't worked out, we could have just started again in the next life..."

Master, I can't wait for the next life, please spare me.

Everything is moving from motion to stillness.

However, after several years of this lifestyle, I've recently entered a different phase.

I've also been practicing yoga less. Like Taoism and Qigong, physical practices naturally evolve towards more internal energy over time. Recently, I've been able to manipulate energy circulation without physical movement, allowing me to practice yoga in its true sense even while riding the Yamanote Line, so it's become less necessary.

Also, while I love the ocean, I've come to appreciate the mountains too. Gerry lives in the mountains of Oregon, and I can deeply understand his shift towards that in the latter half of his life.

After becoming familiar with the exhilarating energy of waves crashing over me in the ocean, I've now come to want to ground that energy into the earth.

In a way, everything is moving from motion towards stillness.
Perhaps I'm just getting old and mellowing out...

Apologies for this story having little to do with fashion.

P.S.
Shortly after writing the above, Gerry's autobiography, "SURF REALIZATION," was published in Japanese translation.
It describes the same continuous struggle for us amateur surfers, battling the white waves as we paddle out. It seems even gods face such hardships, which I found strangely comforting.
And I realized that the spirituality I perceived in Gerry's smile was not mistaken.
Regarding the mindset for facing big waves, he (and my mentor) quotes the following words from Lao Tzu:

The way to do is to be.

To do something is to become that thing.
Surfing is not a battle with the wave, but about becoming the wave.