Zen Del Rio

One of his anthems was, “grateful to be a surfer.”  I am grateful for Zen Del Rio, and grateful to have been in his life, and as it’s the people in our lives that matter the most.  There was just something good about him.  He was a transcendent personality and soul brother to us all.  He was a man of his word and measured in his response, and he shared of himself and his art.  He was a valued global citiZen.

A South Bay icon and namesake, he was an esteemed local shaper and a bit of a local guru.  Never undergunned, he was always at the ready, and whether throaty sections or caving suck outs.  And yet he was not just another barrel chested big wave rider.  He was a teacher and man of god, part nagual, part earthkeeper and even oversoul.  He rode the starting lineup for over 35 years, and with sabbaticals to Pascuales, Puerto Escondido and H30 Hanalei, among others.  He was a man of composition and was good medicine, and leaves us the richer and wiser for him.

He left roots with Roman and his leopard man, and he will surely rejoice in reunion with his beloved Gemma, and the chance to check in with his local ex pats, Danny, Kelly and Jay.  He had a storied circle of friends, traveling with Davey and Slade to Puerto on the regular and working with Gary Stokoe at Rolling Hills Country Day School.  He had stories of after hours at the G land water hole waiting for big cats, and of surf cats too.  Diffenderfer and Joey Cabell, Buttons and Titus, Alex Gray and the Malloy Bros, and his bros Bruce, Brett and Chad.

His art spoke of stillness and an ephemeral beauty.  His were timeless landscapes, reflecting the beauty and sensitivity of the man.  A salt of the earth and flower child in his own way, he was privy to this unbearable lightness of being.

Not so much for this material world, and less so a rat in any said race, the suggestion is that we are all out of our element.  That we would do well with our hands in the dirt, feet in the sand, toes on the nose, sun on our skin and with the wind in our hair.  If only we could be more Zen, and with less doing, and to just be.  To live in harmony with natural law and order and to get wet.  As if this was the fabric of our society, and tapestry that is woven so.  If only he would have stayed on with us, as this life is not just ours, but for the all of us.  Life giveth and taketh away.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  It’s not for us to go looking for love and aloha, it’s for us to bring the love and aloha.  It’s not the water, it’s the wave.  The river that runs thru it.  Zen Del Rio.  When rider and wave are one.

Zen was an og, an original guardian and flamekeeper, for our local fraternal order and the larger brotherhood abroad and at large.  Albeit he wasn’t at home in this oligarchy.  In fact, not many of us are.  He was native and displaced from his homefront, priced out of his homelands.  It wasn’t working out.  He had no angle, no end game.  He could surf, he could paint, he could draw a line.  He drew the line.  It was too much.  He had had enough.  He kept things in simple terms.  It wasn’t working out.  He stepped off.  It does not bode well for society and our social order.  We blew it and we’re blowin’ it.  We can’t hold space for the such.  He was holding space for the all bright, the all of us.  To go from extraordinary to extra ordinary, to navigate the inside passage, and to go down the up staircase. To hold that vibration, to keep to the pulse of the undulation of this ocean and earth.  It’s not financially rewarding.  It’s not the water, it’s the wave, the river that runs thru it.

 I’m sorry, pls forgive us.  Thank you, we love you Zen.

There is no vacancy.  My heart is full.  I love you Zen.  This is a big ripple.

There was your painted surfboard, the Mike Kowlaski eagle skull and your hand painted kestrel.  The Phantoms boomerang and Scripps funboard with the hand foiled foam fin from Brian Nash.  The Kailua hospital visit with Los and Danny.  Lost on the way to Big Bear and calling to talk about the once upon a time, dry tube just above Lower Point, and talking story seemingly without end.  The Puerto bottom turn, and with your head popping up like a seal, just inches from my nose, and with you submerging with the cry, “Banzai !!”  The esalen blind date and how you pulled it off, and with complete Zen style.  Seeing you at the Channel with Brett ‘n Chad, and your recounting of your 11 foot glider and spare blank at that.

Finances and economic inequity aside, he had set aside a place back home.  He had avenue for his art, and now he will be well in enjoying his time and new space, and while not pursuing anything significant at this time.

Zen Del Rio.  California gold.  California soul.  Bless you.