Entry: The Wave is Talking about You Thursday, November 25, 2004

An account of Maxmillian Hartandi, 1974-2000.

"When a big wave is coming and rolling towards you, you realize - in a quick glance - that this could be the ride, or this could be the fall. And after that split-second glance, you'll decide to forget about it, and think that this is just a chance too precious to let go, so you take it."

As Max was talking about his life on the wave, I made a mental intrepretation, assuming he was pointing out a chance lying right before us, waiting for us to grab.

We never really said it; whether we were going to take the chance or not, whether we ever had a relationship or not, whether there was that four-letter-word between us or not. We just had it; the ride, the fall, altogether.

"The tip of a wave; you try to catch it. Chances are equal; are you going to get the jolly, or are you going to get rolled under the wave, swallowing the salty water, having them filling up your mouth and even lungs."

I took a glance over his eyes as he was driving the car. Sitting on the passenger's seat, I wondered how equal are the chances between having a good and steady relationship with this mixed-blood, and having a deep stirring trouble altogether with him as he was still in recovery after losing someone he denied to love for good.

It was the doubt that filled my mouth, lungs, and stirred my stomach.

But, as much as Max had never doubted anything while on the tip of the wave, I knew it; that second chance is the luxury I couldn't afford. Because,

"There will never be the same wave coming to you. They are always new. They are always worth trying for. Worth dancing over for. Each of them worths taking the risks for. I get excited over one, and more over the next one, and even more the next next-one. I get very excited over what will come towards me from the horizon; what Mother Nature will bring me, even when it's still unseen."

Every single person is a new story. Every one that I meet. Every name.

The story of Max didn't end in Hawaii in October 2000, when the 25-feet wave slapped him, and rolled him under, and kept him below the surface of the sea for two days.

"Even when the sea is calm, and the wave is low, and I could only stay still on my board; I would love the ocean. You take a look all around you. There is nothing. There is no one, no signboards, no junk foods, no fancy cars, no designer's shop, no nothing. There is no time there. It's just the water, and water has no limit. It has no end. It just flows. It doesn't care about time. It's timeless."

     It's been a while
     since the last drive
     Been a while
     since your last phone call
     during a sleepless night

     It's been a while
     since trying to get over you
     And just a while
     since trying to rediscover you

     But it's never been a while
     since the last rolling wave
     As much as the ocean
     you are timeless

For less than two years, Max talked about the wave. How he longed to be there. How he was happy to be back there. How he was thrilled when it got rough and more than he could handle.

"Because only then I would surrender. All."

And love is not a matter of winning. It's more of surrendering to each other.

Dreamland, September 2004. I had a single teardrop while looking at the sea. I thought it was a heartbreak. I thought I could never get over losing the best story in my life.

"I thought - S**t! - I lost it. That was an intense one, and all I got was just a three-seconds drive. No, two seconds! I missed touching the pipeline. Then, as I was getting hysterically upset over it, suddenly I was like having a tap in my back. I looked behind me, and lo! Another big one is already shadowing me over, and I got no time to even collect my board. That's how I missed two."

"You don't miss a wave in the ocean, because after all, you will never win any either. What you have to do is to unite yourself with it. Blend. Fuse! Get the grip of it. The key is to find the rhyme, and adjust your heartbeat to it. And when you and the ocean have become a complete fusion, bang! You're a unit of the universe! Surfing then it's not a game anymore. It's not something you do anymore. It's what you are."

Water buries him. Water there. Water in my eyes. Water everywhere. Bang! I do not need to get over it. The story continues with no end. Because we're all units of the universe, coming and going, but never will cease. Even emptiness is just a part of it.

Loneliness is just a part of our story.

     you're a fairy tale
     the wind that washes my face
     the sand beneath my feet

     the waving leaves on the trees
     the good morning flower

     you are never end

     you're a bed time story
     a playground for the orphans
     a lullaby for the restless

     you never stop in me


August 3, 2010   09:16 PM PDT
ur words are beautiful.
i'm so lucky i found this blog.
it's so moving.

my condolences....
January 4, 2005   03:19 PM PST
Like... savoring the splendor of an earthly entity


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