The retreat machine head

After months of just running around for the various yoga retreats, he deicided to wrap his tool belt around his waste and join his friends at a job site. Remodeling with Highlove, Guy, Johnny, Glen, Remmy, David, Donny and Skyler went quicker than he thought it would. Before he knew it, time for lunch. "Huh," he thinks to himself, "where did the time go? felt like 10 minutes". Today, he awoke in the Chakra trailer of his own accord. Finally he'd had the proper allotment of sleep. Suddenly, this job feels like a Sunday drive. He performs all of the tasks which keep the wheels all turning smoothly on the retreat machine. Even watches Will for over 2 hours. Even helps Jean drain a big vat of wine, careful not to suck up the pail leafy dregs on the bottom. While waiting, he whistles, tones and chants om mani padme hum. He thanks all the grapes for being so kind to give up their essence. The smell of fermentation is so strong, he wonders if he will become intoxicated from breathing it in.

The surf window opens up and he drives through it, down Foothill, down 33, into 101, off Main St exit and then the back way to The Point. The waves are similar to yesterday's: disorganized, head high, multiple line ups and not too many surfers. Getting out turns out to be harder than it looked from the shore. The swell direction pushes him down in the direction of the pier. The waves keep crashing with out let up but finally he manages to get outside. Catches a wave very quickly, effortlessly, paddles back out. Struggle then begins, waves are big, fast, steep drop, makes it hard to get up without falling. He catches a few more but mostly gets pummeled and worked. Stays out less than an hour, catches another and paddles in.