When Stories Are Tragic, What Do We Do?

When someone is experiencing disaster or tragedy, as with the devastating Los Angeles fires, the scale of destruction can make individual efforts feel insignificant. 

But I’m reminded of the story of the boy and the starfish and the profound difference one person can make.

He made a difference by throwing starfish back into the sea one by one. When asked what difference it made when there were thousands of starfish on the beach, he said, "It made a difference to that one."

While we can’t save a home or heal every hurt or heart, small acts of kindness—donating supplies, offering shelter, bringing food to a fire house or donating a dollar if that’s what you can spare —can transform lives.  Maybe your gift is bringing joy, sharing your art, your song.

For the starfish tossed back into the ocean, the boy’s action meant everything. Even if he couldn’t help every single one, he did what he could, one by one.  In times of crisis, even the smallest gesture has the power to restore hope. Together, these acts ripple outward, proving that each of us can make a difference. A friend with a front row seat to the devastation said to me today, “The beauty will come as people unite and support each other.”

Yes. And it’s already beginning.

I’m praying for everyone in Los Angeles whose lives and personal stories are forever transformed by this tragedy. For so many lifelong Angelenos, their childhood landmarks are gone - their school, their place of worship, their safe space, their home. May we support one another in lightening the burden for our neighbors near and far.

One thing I know for sure is that one day… with resilience… rebuilding, rebirth and renewal will happen. Each and every person will write brand new chapters in their life story. But for now, our prayers and love and unending support are with each and every hurting heart.

Legacy, Your Family and You

In the past year alone, the New York Times used the word legacy on more than 3,000 occasions. The mentions have a broad scope:

“Exploring Pittsburgh’s Legacy of Steel”

“Alicia Keys, Usher and Patti Smith Honor the Legacy of Gordon Parks”

“Marlene Dietrich’s Legacy Still Glitters”

What is legacy? Does it matter?

Some influencers preach the importance of establishing your legacy. Other people don’t think about legacy at all. That doesn’t mean they’re not leaving one. The people in the space between those extremes are an interesting group too. 

They may have built a lasting legacy. But they don’t do what they do for personal recognition or for ego. They’re the ones who lead a life of honor, love and sacrifice. The ones who show up, imperfect, yet always entrenched in the values and character that shape their personal constitution. 

Some people aim to leave a legacy for their own sake. But the latter leave a legacy as a gift to generations who follow, providing a trail of information, lessons or opportunities, offered with no strings attached to people they may never know.

In its noun form, legacy is defined as “something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.”

So, legacy is not inherently positive. It can be negative. And it can be neutral. And legacy can take many forms. However it is characterized, and whatever shape it assumes, legacy lives in stories. Your family legacy lives in your family stories.

What stories do your family members hold that you might like to preserve? What about your own personal odyssey up to now? I bet your nieces or sons would love to know some of the details you have lived, but they just might not yet know to ask.

It’s personal for you. And it’s personal for me. I’ve been immersed in these conversations this year since I’ve been hired to gather stories and help others preserve their family legacies. Gratifying doesn’t begin to describe it.

I’m currently in the process of going through transcripts from recent interviews with people who opened the door to their heart for me. Some stories are really funny. Some are heartbreaking. Some are just fascinating. All are expanding my scope of human compassion.

They’re real experiences, stages of personal or professional evolution, memorable lessons, and in some cases traumas that were so poignantly shared… that upon hearing them, I could feel my blood stirring or my own respiration changing. This is human connection. This is the oneness of being. This is the power of story. 

The traditions and unique characteristics of each person have a finite window of availability. If they’re not gathered, one day they’ll be gone. Forever. Unless, that is, a family member, matriarch or patriarch gets intentional about gathering family stories now. It’s not about stirring up pain. I know the prospect of this can cause defenses to rise. It doesn’t have to be comprehensive. It’s about gathering what you can while you can. Some history gathering is better than none. 

In 2025, maybe you’d like to try this: Ask, “Would you tell me your story about …” 

And wait for the lights to go on in someone’s eyes. You won’t have to wait long.

However you start the process, I encourage you to begin gathering the memories, the stories, the voices, the quirks, and, yes, the recipes too. First, it’s fun. Second, it breaks familial ice. Third, it makes each person feel seen and heard.  

Whether you write the stories down or record them on audio or video, the important thing is just to begin. What I’ve discovered in my service for others is that the mere idea of starting the journey of gathering stories sparks new conversations within families. It bridges divides. It brings vitality and energy. 

There are DIY books and apps that can facilitate a similar end. The annual Christmas invitation of a friend announced to her family to “come bearing stories.”

Will you be intentional about preserving some family stories in 2025? 

I say this again and again: It curates a culture of curiosity and caring within your family. It can be the simple pleasures, the minutiae, the mundane and the miraculous. It benefits those living now, and it’s a priceless gift to your family’s future generations.

I wish you a year of deep connections in 2025.

In the words of Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home."

Creativity vs. Inner Critic

In our professional and personal lives, the nagging voice of the inner critic often serves as a gatekeeper, demanding perfection before creativity even has a chance to breathe. Shutting down that voice is one of the greatest acts of liberation we can gift ourselves.

What if following the pull of doing something that brings you joy is at odds with the voice of the inner critic? What then? 

As someone who has fought with my own inner critic, I know it’s daunting to create amidst the noise of negativity. Recently for me, joy and my inner critic went a few rounds over something I made: a 2025 Creativity Calendar. 

In the early rounds, joy was dominating. But the inner critic was only temporarily wobbled. Then she came back swinging.

(For clarity, the 2025 Creativity Calendar is simple. By doodling, drawing or writing in just one square a day for a year, you’ll nurture your inner child artist and create a sense of calm. Over time, you create your own unique pieces of art and a historical record of the year as told by your imagination.)

I shared the calendar with my newsletter subscribers a few days ago. 

That’s when my inner critic got loud. “It’s so basic. Who cares? What value will others see in its simplicity? No one will want that.”

Authors of The Tools, Phil Stutz and Barry Michels, would say the black cloud had taken over. The "black cloud" refers to a metaphorical state of mind where a person is consumed by negative thoughts, worry, and self-doubt, creating a feeling of negativity that hangs over them like a dark cloud. It's a concept used to describe a pervasive negative mindset that can be dispelled through practices like "grateful flow" which encourages focusing on positive aspects of life.

After about 24 hours in the black cloud, I emerged. 

The calendar is a way to practice unfiltered creativity—the kind that doesn’t care about accolades or outcomes. Every creative endeavor doesn’t need to culminate in an Emmy, a buyout, or social recognition.

Creativity is a practice, not a performance. Since the start of 2024 when I added the creativity calendar to my morning routine of reading, exercise, meditation, and journaling, the daily doodle has brought me some peace and amusement. But it’s more than that. 

Over the course of a tumultuous year, my 2024 Creativity Calendar tells a visual story of my highs, lows, and the gray zones in between—a story even my journal doesn’t capture. What might your 2025 story look like? 

By simply befriending a blank page with a colored pencil in hand, you give your imagination permission to play and your inner critic permission to take a much-needed nap. This act of small, consistent creativity has the power to shift how we approach both life and work, reminding us that sometimes, simplicity is the most profound form of expression.

Color Your Future

Close your eyes. Imagine yourself at age seven. See yourself in a comfortable space. Maybe you’re in your childhood bedroom on a slow summer afternoon. Can you see your hair as it looked back then, your outfit, maybe your missing front tooth?

Now see your eyes and your entire being locked in on a coloring book page with a box of crayons half spilled next to you. Your head is tilted. Jaw loose. Nothing else matters. Your inner artist is at work.

As adults, we neglect this little one.

I’ve created a 2025 Creativity Calendar as a way for us to engage this inner child and to color just one square a day for a year. After 365 days, you’ll have your own unique artwork reflecting your original historical record of the year.

Every creative endeavor doesn’t need to have a potential endpoint of an Emmy, a buyout or social recognition. I added the creativity calendar to my morning routine of reading, exercise, meditation and journaling. This daily doodle practice brings me calm and amusement.

Beyond that, it tells a story, maybe an unexpected one. Throughout the landscape of a tumultuous year, my calendar tells a story of highs and lows and gray zones beyond the one my journal holds. What might yours look like?

Befriending a blank page with a colored pencil in hand gives your imagination permission to play. And it helps to put your inner critic down for a nap.

Click for the 2025 Creativity Calendar digital download

Click the 2025 Creativity Calendar image here to download the digital document. Just print, staple and start.

And enjoy.

Don’t judge it. Just create.

Winter’s Quiet Invitation

Winter, with its biting cold and barren landscapes, holds an invitation in its stillness. 

The season invites us to pause, subtract, synthesize, and create. 

Amidst the cold, a personal and professional pot of creativity simmers. In the pause of the season, the question is: Can we remember to focus on its power and potential?

Winter teaches us, sometimes with an icy chill, that subtraction can be a gift. 

Trees shed their leaves, animals retreat, and the land pares back to its essentials. 

We, too, can let go—of old stories, tired character traits and emotional residue that no longer serve us. Winter’s austerity reveals what truly matters. This process of subtraction isn’t about loss; it’s about shoring up resilience. And it’s about preparation.

Can you think of a time when subtraction, in retrospect, was a gift in some way?

As though nature’s hand is helping us to create a clearing, in it we can discover seeds of ideas, habits, and creative projects. Unlike spring’s bright energy, winter’s slower rhythm moves like deliberate footsteps on fresh snow, encouraging thoughtful cultivation and growth. 

The song of the season is soft and steady, like the quiet, strong beat of a deep, slow drum.

Winter invites us to connect more deeply—with ourselves and others. It’s the perfect season to listen to a friend’s childhood tales or uncover the forgotten stories of our parents’ younger years.

Within this atmosphere, synthesis thrives. 

As if gathered in a rustic lodge near a copse of trees, the trio of inspiration, experience, and knowledge come together. From this meeting, connections emerge and weave a new fabric for our future.

Creation takes root. Long nights of darkness direct us inward, where imagination lives. Creativity is there.

The dormant appearance of the season is an illusion. This is a season of growth and innovation. 

Winter is proof that even in life’s coldest, most unpromising moments, there is potential for transformation. Winter’s true gift is its quiet reminder that even in stillness, life moves forward. 

For now, let it snow in sparkling flakes — tiny, magical, geometric reminders to look up at the night sky in awe — and pause, subtract, synthesize, and create.

TUNE IN TO TALES OF LIVING AND WONDER

 “During a sandstorm in the daytime, 

I could lay in the bunkhouse and 

watch the sand seep in through the light bulbs.” 

[Story shared with me by a woman who is 82 years old]

The start of that story is so visual. With one simple sentence, we are there.

In 2024, by asking new questions of new people, I’ve heard stories that are captivating and authentic. They’re visceral for the people sharing them, and they’re palpable for the listener. Can you think of a few stories you heard this year that moved you, dazzled you, mystified you, enchanted you? I bet more than a few of them connected you in a new way to the person who shared.

“One day my dad and grandpa saw some guys walking out of the woods carrying a bunch of fish. My dad said, 'Where have you been?’ They said, 'Into the next lake.’  Dad said, 'I didn't know there was another lake in there.’ Eventually my dad was presented with an opportunity to purchase property on that lake even though he didn’t have enough money to do it. He paid with chicken eggs every week over the course of an entire year.” 

[Shared with me by a man who is 82 years old]

These aren’t my stories. But I felt them deeply. Their words, their inflections, their emotion all stemmed from someone else’s personal human experiences and interactions. These stories tap into another place and time. They evoke imagery of environment and sentiment. They tell tales of living, observing and of wonder. They remind us of our common humanity.

Can you see your great grandparents when you look into the eyes of your relatives? 

Can you imagine the lives of ancestors in the eyes of strangers? 

Can you feel a sense of tradition and her story in the way your grandmother dressed or the sweetness she uses when she pats your hand?

2024 AND YOU

How can your family’s tales of living, observing and of wonder be harnessed today? 

Maybe you can be the one at your table this year who goes beyond the always meaningful question about gratitude. Maybe you can start a trend of learning just a little bit more, and taking the time to find out what people care about. 

Hear from the storytellers and the quiet ones. Wait in loving silence as the highly sensitive ones search for their words to share exactly what is on their heart. 

HERE ARE A FEW IDEAS IF YOU NEED A SPARK OF INSPIRATION:  

a. Ask each guest (family and friends) to write one story-related question on a piece of paper, then place them all in a bowl. Take turns drawing the questions, read them aloud, and have each person volunteer to share.

b. Ask: In what ways are you most creative? In what ways would you like to be more creative? (For example, I might say I feel most creative when I do photography. I’d like to be a more creative writer).

c. Ask: What are you not very good at? What are/were you really pretty good at?  (For example, I might say I’m not very good at small talk. But I am pretty good at listening).

d. Ask: What single area of learning gave your life direction, joy, hope or just pure fun?  (For example, I might say practicing martial arts).

e. Ask: What are five life lessons each person wants to offer to others?  (For example, I might say 1. Show up. 2. Get moving, in nature, if possible. 3. Trust yourself. 4. Keep learning. 5. When in doubt, assume good intentions.)

Maybe you're alone today. Try asking some of these questions of yourself. Get to know yourself better. Write down your answers or hit “record” on your phone’s voice recording app. 

Maybe you’re missing someone. If it feels right, perhaps you can honor them by sharing your favorite stories or qualities about them.

This holiday season, if you are fortunate to gather with others for food, friendship and fellowship, maybe you can allow connection and storytelling to be your nourishment. Maybe you can let curiosity be your sustenance. And maybe you can let listening to others as they share be the sweetest dessert you consume. 

You can start all of this the moment the door opens.

I challenge you to greet each guest with a statement or question you’ve never used with them before. What could you say to elicit welcome surprise, joy and warmth?

I’m cheering you as you establish a new dynamic through the magic of stories this year. No matter our age, only today is guaranteed. 

With love to you and yours!

Stephanie

PS: Tell me one of your short stories.

5 Ideas for Guiding Your Holiday Story Exchange Experience

After writing on the topic of getting ultra intentional about family story sharing this holiday season, a friend of mine called to say she and her family plan to do it. They’re moving into a new home, and this will be their first holiday season spent there. To make it extra special, they’re going to make story exchange their gift exchange. I think that’s rich. And budget-friendly too.

If you’ve been giving this some consideration, here are a few ideas to guide the story sharing experience.

1. Communicate in advance. Prior to your get-together, give others a chance to put on their thinking caps. Let your loved ones know your intention of sharing stories. Frame it up as an occasion to share family heritage about people who have already passed and to learn fun details about the lives of those you’ll share a table with this year. This isn’t a contest or interrogation. It’s an opportunity to share well, love well, and listen well.

2. Set a timer. Having a timer will help guide a long-winded relative to share the long story short. You want to make sure there is room enough for everyone to share and for energy to remain high. This is also why communicating in advance is helpful.

3. Help each other. If you’re having difficulty thinking of something to share, try passing around a notepad. Have a page for each attendee on which other family members can write questions if they like. Maybe you want to know more about the interests your grandma had as a young lady. You can ask. Maybe you don’t know much about your 8 year old nephew. Here’s a perfect chance to find out what he enjoys and cares about. 

4. Think in blocks. If you go blank every time someone asks your favorite book or movie, it may help you to think in categories. You’ll likely discover some good questions this way. Here are some examples:  1) Decade blocks. What significant things happened in your 20s, 30s, 40s, etc? 2) Geographic blocks. What was your life like when you lived in each of the places you have lived? 3) Interest blocks. Think about relevant details that mattered to you when you participated in your favorite activities — skating, sewing, playing music. How did you get started? Why did you love it? Why did you stop? 4) Relationship blocks. Who was a formative friend group or person in your life that others might not know about? A favorite teacher? 5) Favorite blocks. (It’s worth a try). What are your favorite songs, books, colors, places, etc?  6) Growth blocks. When did you experience a coming alive? Describe a time in your life when you felt significant personal growth or change.

5. Set expectations. Establish from the start that this is a safe space. No one is there to judge or to harm. Make a commitment as you set expectations that everyone will be an attentive and compassionate  listener. There may be some emotions that come up — and that may be a cathartic thing. If things are hard, support each other. And if things are funny, by all means embrace the hilarious.

Perhaps you think your family won’t go for it. Well, you can still foster an atmosphere of storytelling through your curious, caring spirit and the easy way you show interest in others. You can give the gift of making every single person feel seen, heard and valued this season.

Would you like more ideas? Let me know in the comments.

This Holiday Season, Sharing Stories That Unite Us

I’m sitting in a warm cafe not far from an ice cold lake. The sun is white like winter, and the aroma of roasted coffee beans fills the air. I’m putting the finishing touches on some thoughts about (my idea of ) the best kind of holiday gift exchange. 

Elderly man sits with back to camera in open air cafe setting wearing brown ribbed sweater and leaning on left elbow. Coffee cup on table to his right.

Just as I was thinking about this, something else mingled with the comfortable chaos of coffee house sounds.  The volume was turned up on an election-related ‘conversation’ just a few tables away. I threaded my fingers under my hair, discreetly stuffing them in my ears to maintain my own thoughts. But I couldn’t hear them anymore. Not over their conversation. So I simultaneously closed my eyes and rolled them, then sniffed a chuckle at the synchronicity of the moment.

Elderly woman’s hands folded over a black and white checked cotton skirt.

We’ve already seen the national percentages that illustrate our nation’s ideological and issues-based divides. I’m not indifferent. I was reminded of that as I overheard the cafe chatter. I know you’re not indifferent either.

Beautifully set dinner table with colorful salad in large bowl atop lacy white table cloth, orange and brown napkins sitting on plates, with clear crystal drinking glasses.

But this holiday season, what if we turned the spotlight to family stories? Sharing family stories now may be more important than ever, a positive way to dial down the divisive atmosphere of politics stoked by the tense election season.

Think of your gatherings as opportunities for the best kind of gift exchange. It’s old school, it’s time tested and it’s enduring.

If you haven’t already, maybe now is the time to embrace ancient oral storytelling traditions. Maybe now is the time to share knowledge, culture, and ideas through speech, through song, and even through shared silence. Sharing family stories curates a family culture of curiosity and caring. Plus, family gatherings are rare occasions when multiple generations are sharing food, space, and time. What a gift! These moments are ideal for asking questions and building connections.

Watch the eyes of grandparents light up when someone takes a genuine interest in their stories. Then watch them reverse age before your eyes as they travel through story to another time and place. Feel your own eyes illuminate when that grandparent asks about your life then listens with love.

What if we prepare ourselves to be focused on the stories that unite us?

• Did you know … the currency grandpa used to purchase that land was eggs? 

• Did you know … she had a gift for learning foreign languages?

• Did you know … they took only two vacations in their lifetime?

• Did you know … what games they played as kids? 

• Did you know … the courage they’ve shown throughout their life?

This holiday season, we have a choice. We can lean into the opportunity to connect.  And we can reach across the table with curiosity through attention, patience and kindness.  

If we try it, maybe it’s a way to make the world a better place, starting right here, right now. It’s a form of ‘think globally, act locally.’

To me, a caring story exchange is the number one, best, favorite, ultimate gift exchange.

Four children outdoors near lake holding hands and jumping in air with hair flying, calm lake and setting sun in distance.

Seven Wishes

On Sunday, May 26th, it’s someone’s birthday. If you read my second book — the one about a special dog with a big dream —you know I’m talking about Bruno. Today he turns seven, in human years.

He asked me to let you know that on account of his seven years of life, he made seven wishes. Get this: They’re not for him.  He made the wishes for you. I know, soooo canine! 

1. Take a walk today. If you can’t walk, sit outside. Just try to move your body in some way. And smell everything.

2. Listen well. When someone speaks to you today, really listen. Look, be attentive, and listen like there is nothing else and no one else in the world. Tilt your head a little if you want.

3. If you don’t understand someone today, get a little closer. Seek understanding. They’ll feel your sincerity. Maybe you can put your paw on their forearm.

4. May your eyes to light up when you see your people coming. Whether they’ve been away for a minute or a month, let them know you love them by turning on the lights in your eyes. If you want to be like me, you can wiggle your hips too.

5. Forgive someone. (Maybe it’s you. Maybe today is the day you’ll forgive yourself.) I start every day like it’s all brand new.

6. If you don’t know what to do, just show up. Sit with someone. You don’t even need to speak. You can rest your chin on their shoulder. Or maybe they want to rest their chin on your shoulder.

7. Fill your day with enthusiasm! For waking up! For your meal! For the doorbell! For the new person you meet! (Please don’t overwhelm the people like I sometimes do — I tend to spring up and down when I’m excited). But definitely bring your joy!

Abstract painting by Stephanie Himango

To celebrate Bruno, this year I decided to use some pages of the book and create something new: an abstract painting. This is it.

Enjoy your long weekend, have fun and please take care.

Surfing and the Power of Proximity

First I heard the slap of bare feet running on sandy concrete, then glimpsed a small boy darting past. Blond hair mushroomed out from under his trucker hat. When the energetic beam of light stopped near me, his eyes held galaxies, fixed on a fresh autograph he’d just collected.

How old are you? 

“Nine.” 

Do you surf?

“Yeah.” (Duh)

How old were you when you started? He shrugged. 

“About four.”

Fourteen year old surfer Yang Siqi of China. Now 15, she is the first athlete from China to qualify for the Olympics in the sport of surfing. March 2024. Photo by Stephanie Himango

Just behind him, at this final Olympic-qualifying surfing event before the 2024 Olympics, tickets were being awarded to wet-headed, sun-baked athletes just five years older than he is now — athletes like then 14 year old Yang Siqi from China, her country’s first athlete to ever qualify for the Olympics in the sport of surfing. 

Nearby, 15 year old Sky Brown of Great Britain, still dripping and adrenalized, was beaming as she signed pages inside the decorated autograph books of her adoring fans. Brown was in Puerto Rico attempting a second 2024 Olympic berth. She’d already qualified for the 2024 Olympics in skateboarding, and was diving into the possibility of being a 2024 Olympic surfer as well. She didn’t qualify this time. Still, I remain fascinated by the logistical challenge a double berth would present —  given that skateboarding will take place in Paris this summer, and the Olympic surfing venue is 9,765 miles away in Teahupo’o, Tahiti.

The nine year old boy was surely absorbing the environment too. Not only was he watching his heroes paddling out to take their shot at becoming an Olympian, he was sharing space with them.

Before I could ask whose autograph he scored, the boy vanished. Like a wave.

What didn’t vanish was the lingering question around what happens to us when, at a young age, we see or hear something that captures our imagination? How formative is having this dazzling experience for him… at his tender age of nine? Maybe the question is best answered by looking into the past.

Beach Boys

About 60 years ago, in the 1960s, surfing sparked the imagination of another boy of about the same age. It would turn his world around.

Buzzy Kerbox started surfing in the 1960s, won the World Cup at Sunset Beach in 1978 and the 1980 Surfabout in Sydney, Australia.  The pro surfer and longtime Ralph Lauren model was among the spectators on the final days of the competition at Arecibo, standing  as a bridge between surfing’s past and future.

“In my day, we never had events like this, so it’s really exciting to see this. The camaraderie of the countries and the stoke and the enthusiasm for the sport… it’s rampant here. And I think the surge of the women’s talent is going to influence more women all over the world to get into the sport.”

I was curious to know his surfing origin story, so I reached out to him later. 

“I was born and lived in Indiana,” he wrote. “In the summer, the family would vacation in Florida.” 

Kerbox said that when he was eight years old, he saw a Beach Boys album cover with surfers on it.

“I thought that looked very cool. A year later, my dad moved the family to Hawaii. I went straight to Waikiki and took a surf lesson. It took over my entire life.” 

Katrina

Katrina Kruze was perched on a stairwell ledge overlooking the beach — quiet, unmoving and solitary. Her fixed attention revealed an intensity and something else — maybe a mix of adoration and respect. I turned to see what she was looking at: Athletes from countries around the world celebrating in jubilant circles, waving their flag, cheering and whooping for the success of their teammates. 

Her blue eyes were glossy with tears. The blond-haired 29 year old competitor from Latvia was out of the competition, but still soaking in the moments unfolding before her with the presence and soul of an athlete.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she confessed. “It’s just so beautiful to see people achieving their dreams.” 

She turned her gaze back to the celebrations of athletes from Germany, Morocco and Indonesia. 

“I don’t even know them,” she said. 

“I come from a small country.  I only surfed three years, and I get to be here… I’m just really grateful being part of it.”

She smiles bright, gathering her composure, and continues.

“The last few days you see people feeling crushed and feeling happy, and there’s just so much empathy here.”

I tried to imagine embarking on a brand new sport at the age of 26 — knowing your competition have five, 10 or even 20 years of experience on you. And in spite of that, here you are, three years later, competing alongside the sport’s best in the world. Positively gritty.

Surfer Katrina Kruze of Latvia. March 2024. Photo by Stephanie Himango

Growing up, Kruze didn’t know anyone who surfed. She’d never even seen it. She told me in an email that she first heard about surfing when she was 14 years old. As she recalls it now, an adult noticed how she lit up when wakeboarding and forecasted one day she would surf ocean waves. It would be another 12 years until she had a real opportunity to try surfing. She said that when COVID started, she hopped between countries for a year and learned to surf. 

With an unbridled sense of adventure, hard work and determination, she caught the surfing wave and rode it all the way to Puerto Rico. She said she sometimes wonders, "How good would I surf… if I started earlier?” But she doesn’t let it linger. Play and adrenaline mixed with nature provide the excitement she craves.

 Water As North Star

There’s something about the water and those unpredictable crests that makes the surfing community return to them, wave after wave. Like returning to one’s true nature.

Standing along the shoreline of Arecibo, Puerto Rico, first I was struck by the tropical beauty of the rocky coast against the expanse of churning blue sea. Palm trees whoosh like paint brushes across a canvas of sky, pushed along by warm breezes.

When I stepped a little closer, I could see beyond mother nature to glimpse human nature. Alongside mountaineers, surfers must be just about as close to one with nature as any athlete can be.

They immerse themselves in nature’s glory and fury. They ride waves of terrifying enormity and potential as they dance with danger. Standing on land witnessing this spectacle of daring, it’s awe that washes over me.

Mutual Admiration

“I’ve been around surfing for 45 years now competitively, and I love commentating and calling the heats.”

Barton Lynch was in Puerto Rico lending his perspective to the International Surfing Association’s (ISA) coverage, and his love of surfing stretches into coaching and mentoring.  The Australian is known for his style, and winning the 1988 world surfing champion is one among many achievements and accolades. Lynch says he started surfing when he was about seven years old. Living at the beach and seeing surfing every day, he said he had to try.

“It really makes me feel great to watch the young people and to see the Olympic tickets get given and the joy on everyone’s faces. Honestly, I sit there in the booth and tear up from time to time because it’s just so cool. You see people’s dreams come true.” 

That’s how Shane Dorian sees it too. The surf legend got his start right around his fifth birthday. After more than a decade on the pro circuit, Dorian became a pioneer of big-wave surfing and is active in coaching and mentoring the next generation too.

"I came to Puerto Rico when I was a kid, like 16 years old, for the World Juniors with Team Hawaii. It was just a great time in my life and good memories from that week being here.

“It’s a lot different being on the other side of it. First as a competitor, now as a coach. It’s really fun to be able to feel like you’re helping the team as a whole and helping individual athletes achieve their dream.”

A New Generation

All of this made me feel hopeful for my mushroom-haired friend and every other young spectator. As much as his young spirit might hold dreams, honor heroes and herald a higher calling, so too, the elders want to see those who follow them succeed. The wise teachers understand if the student surpasses the teacher, they both win. 

Fernando Aguerre, president of the International Surfing Association (ISA), wearing rings representing peace, love and surfing. March 2024. Photo by Stephanie Himango

Bigger Than Surfing

For ISA President Fernando Aguerre, surfing isn’t so much a sport as it is a way of life. He’s not alone in this thinking.

“For me it’s happiness, and I carry it in my hand!” His fingers stretched like a starfish, he energetically points to the rings circling three of them. One by one he declared: “Peace! Love! And surfing!”

When that’s the ethos, can you really lose? No, you can’t. Whether you start at five, 25 or 85.