I identified as a skater for a minute without having touched a board in years.
I was fine with this.
Skating was more than just the act, right? It is the foundational text of culture, art, music, and philosophies that had re-wired who I was and how I think that I carried with me that mattered, right?
I was fine with it, till I wasn't.
With a dried out piece of stunt wood, paired with an equally broken set of trucks, complete with wheels and rusted out bearings. I propelled myself sideways. Not impressively, but enough.
It would have been below underwhelming to any observer. But there was a moment of connection, not with the sport but with that moment.
A buzz in the attempt through finding the immediacy of the moment. An under-thought moment of truth revealed in this extended form of play. And that was the part that mattered. Sucking at it and being fine with that. Embracing uncertainty, finding the space between glory and obliteration with only a pebble on the ground determining the outcome of one side or the other. Treading a line between fast and slow.
Fast learns, slow remembers.
Fast proposes, slow disposes.
I had settled into stagnancy, opting for known, trading comfort for learning. I had merely been pondering possibilities. Not trying, not failing, not trying again and not growing.
It was a simple act that brought meaning to chaos. Where scary, incomplete, or impractical ideas fight stagnation.
And its there where I think this lands – inspiration to experiment, permission to fail and suck.
An open door to fuck around with something and find out.