:: May/June 2004 Volume 3/Number 3

The Best Decision I Ever Made:

By Richard Hamar

Answering the bell at 4:01 a.m., I could think of a dozen reasons not to drag my tired, stiff bones out of bed to go surfing. The 40-degree weather and the hour-long drive to C Street in Ventura were justification enough. Then there was the memory of my last wave-riding session off the same beach, when a high tide cracking on vicious rocks had jammed the fin through my board, leaving my body with bruises that took weeks to heal. Besides, I was facing a motion deadline in a federal criminal case – one involving a mandatory life sentence and a highly questionable wiretap. And another problem involving a brother lawyer had been eating at me lately, with no solution in sight. Taking a four-hour vacation that January morning, even if I could still get to work by 9:00, seemed downright irresponsible.
“Listening to my own inner taskmaster, I chose the most difficult poses I could think of, even keeping my eyes closed to make balance more challenging.”

Photo by Maria Hamar

I had planned the trip, however, to mark a unique circumstance: Over the previous four days, for the first time ever, I had attended four straight yoga classes. The large, well-shaped waves at C Street seemed the perfect testing ground for my newly tuned-up body and consciousness. So I downed some strong Earl Grey, plopped into my trusty Surfmobile (a battered ’83 Mercedes diesel wagon) and headed up the 101 Freeway, Van Morrison’s warm voice partnering me through the cold darkness.
To prep myself for the salty ordeal, I reviewed the highlights of my yoga marathon. On Monday evening, I had sweated through Bryan Kest’s class in a loft on Santa Monica Street. One of Bryan’s unique tactics is reverse psychology: He’ll get you to do asanas you never thought possible by telling you not to do them, exclaiming that if you listen to a yoga instructor, you are an idiot. “Listening to my own inner taskmaster, I chose the most difficult poses I could think of, even keeping my eyes closed to make balance more challenging.”

On Tuesday, I’d taken Matthew de los Reyes’s class at Maha Yoga in Brentwood. Matthew chooses a theme for every class, and that night’s message was reminding ourselves that we are the culmination of every ancestor that has passed before us, and that we should be grateful for the qualities we have inherited. I came away determined to live up to the responsibility of honoring those gifts. Wednesday’s teacher was Mark Blanchard, the Westwood-based guru known as Mr. Power Yoga to the stars who pay him $300 for a private lesson. His pace is furious: 300 chatturangas (pushups) in a row; contortions doled out at a relentless clip. I’d refused to break – or even to indulge in the proffered child’s pose. Thursday I was back with Matthew. His theme this time was suspending judgment — not evaluating an asana as good or bad, just going on to the next one in a steady flow. By the end of his class, I was ready to take on the mighty Pacific, which was just then sending huge rollers toward C Street
from a storm in the distant Arctic. It was show time, baby!

Photo by Maria Hamar

At 5:00 Friday morning, I changed into my wetsuit in the beach parking lot, the sharp breeze pricking my exposed skin. I did five minutes of stretching and a sun salutation. Then I waded out to the shallows and paddled by instinct, barely able to see beyond the end of my board. To my surprise, there were obscure forms ahead. One was standing on a moonlit wave, and the other was waiting for his turn. What does a guy have to do to be the first in the water?
I pushed up to a seated position, straining to see some variation in the dimness that would herald the next wave.
Yes — there was something, bigger, darker moving at me. As I turned my board and paddled again, I could feel the ocean change its level. Sensing that a medium-sized wave was going to break about twenty yards ahead of me, I raced to meet the place where it would fold over in a downward arch. Just then, I remembered my ujjayi breath. Keep it nice and even. Focus on the breath. I felt but did not see the mass of water that was now upon me. “ I moved into warrior position — thrusting my left foot as far as it could reach up the nose, bending my knees downward, extending my arms for balance and as a signal to my body to be alive.

I was shooting up and down the wave, my turns as smooth as my transitions between asanas during yoga sessions. After kicking out, I let the wave go without judgment — thank you, Matthew.
A couple of dozen rides later, the sun finally rose, revealing that a dolphin had joined the ten of us now playing in the sea. Up and back I went, each wave an opportunity to defer to my brother surfers, or to accept the offering if it was ethically mine. My ujjayi breath remained strong and steady, as did my stance and my paddling strokes, and I knew that those four straight yoga classes had done the trick. When the last wave bore me all the way to the shore, I passed through the rocks and emerged without a scratch. In the parking lot, my conversations with other surfers seemed more respectful and meaningful than usual Even my cup of coffee at the shop down the street brimmed with unaccustomed joy. And as I headed back down the 101, the solution to the disagreement I had been having with another attorney appeared in my head as if beamed directly from heaven. Back in my office right on time, I presented the idea to the attorney and our client; it worked for all concerned. Then I turned to the motion in my federal criminal case, writing arguments against the wiretap with a fluency that matched my moves on the board. By 2:00 p.m. I had it nailed.

I had carried the energy of yoga to my surfing, and carried the energy of yogic surfing to my work. It struck me as I printed out the motion that my life would never be the same – and that answering the 4:01 bell was the best decision I had ever made.

Richard Hamar has a nationwide litigation practice with offices in Beverly Hills, Honolulu and Miami. He writes stories on the flights and surfs and practices yoga between court sessions. wwwlegalhammer.com