Increments of Fear The Buzzy Trent Story

10/01/2016

Immortal Spirit
John Peck
(excerpt from Going Surfin’ Written by Anna Trent Moore)

The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering.
-Bruce Lee

Sometimes one is bound to a person because of timing, circumstance, and the people you share. Bud Browne was bound to John Peck because of surfing. That was timing and circumstance. But, I am tied to John because of the people we shared; Bud Browne, and my father, Buzzy Trent. Still, sometimes I wonder if we’re just bound to people because the universe wills it.
In Hebrew the name John means, “God has been gracious.” Such a fitting name for John Peck because in so many ways, it has been the mantra of his life. He exudes a grace about living that by his own admission, can only come from God.
And yes, he claims to be a potential immortal. That he can levitate, and has heard God. Many are doubtful of John spiritual revelations and convictions. While its easy to be skeptic, I think of people who claim to talk to God through prayer, and possess unwavering belief in the story of one man to save the world with the building a single arc. And the conviction of millions of Christians that reputable men of the Bible were guided by voices and premonitions that came directly down to them from the heavens. And then I ask myself, why would John’s beliefs seem so far fetched? I for one will not claim to explain the universe and its mysteries.
From what I know of John, his life is one continuous quest. A quest which is the unending search for purity, love, and joy of spirit, all baptized within the essence of surfing. From his immersion into the water as a surfer, John’s love for riding waves is woven through every aspect of his life. Surfing, joy, love, is one circle with no beginning or end. And this is what makes him the complete surfer. I think Bud Browne might have thought so too, because he sure filmed him a lot, and loved doing so.
I have watched him surf countless of times in Bud films, and of all the surfers of his time (and even those that followed), his surfing possessed an elegance that can only be defined as supreme grace. In the Ballet world, he would be called the Prima Assoluta. A dancer within their own realm whose essence defies comparison with all others.
I think Bud Browne saw something unique in John at a young age. Bud was a very reclusive individual, but still, he made an effort to mentor a few surfers who showed talent and enthusiasm for the sport. Although he left the teaching profession to invent the career of a surf filmmaker, encouraging young gremmies was the teacher part of Bud that he never left behind. He never married or had children, but he found a certain purpose in taking a few young surfers under his wing, very much like a big brother. One of those surfers was John Peck. Theirs was a friendship that would last a good duration of Bud’s life, through John’s tumultuous soul-searching days of the sixties and seventies, and even unto his later years as a self-realized, spiritually evolved guru.
John Peck’s persona deviated far from the ultra conservative character of Bud Browne, creating an unlikely duo of personalities. While Bud never compromised on his conservative values, he was to maintain a relationship with John throughout his life, which reveals volumes about Bud’s sense of loyalty and commitment to people. Undoubtedly, it was because of the common denominator they both shared. Surfing
For sure, my favorite footage of John Peck is at Honolua Bay. It is said that the day Bud filmed him surfing Honolua Bay, was the first time the break was ever filmed. And what a day it was.
For me, there are two rides captured by Bud Browne that are forever imprinted in my mind. The first is of young Linda Merrill sliding endlessly down that Rincon wall that seems to go on forever. And the second, young John Peck surfing Honolua Bay when he was only eighteen years old.
The surf was too big and out of control at the North Shore and Bud told John he knew of a place on Maui where there would be good surf. With his camera equipment and young John in tow, they flew to Maui to surf Honolua Bay.
John said he didn’t have his own board so he had to borrow one from Dick Brewer. The board didn’t have much rocker and he claimed that had he had his own board, he’s sure he would have surfed better. I find this hard to believe, because still, years after that day, watching John surf Honolua Bay so beautifully, never ceases to move me time and time again. I’m not sure how that day of wave riding could have been more “better.” Beautifully poised, eternally young, John’s surfing epitomized all that wave riding is about.
You are looking at John surfing through Bud’s eyes as he begins filming him from a distance, taking off on a beautiful Honolua Bay wall. John is gliding down, toward Bud’s camera in perfect trim, until, when the wave passes him by, he continues to film John from the back of the wave, capturing the backdrop of the Maui coastline imposed behind him. This shot has always struck me as somewhat voyeuristic, with the viewer watching the scene from the wings, witnessing what it is to be completely in the moment with Bud Browne and John Peck so taking you there.
It would be many years later when I would look back at this day with Bud through his viewfinder. I fell in love with that footage. So much so, that I selected a frame grab from it. I simply had to have it. But after awhile, it wasn’t enough. And so, I discovered that the only way back to that moment was to return to the films. That’s where it is immortalized.
It seemed so right that when I scattered Bud at Pipeline on the North Shore of Hawaii, that John was there with me. While the group all paddled out on a surfboard, John chose to swim. It was he who steadied the nose of my board as I released Bud to the sea, and then, he swam through his ashes, emerging from the water with a great big smile as bright as the sun on that beautiful day, saying just one word… “Wow!” Later he would recount to me the surreality of the experience, and how powerfully he felt Bud’s presence. It was John’s final gesture to his friend and done with how he does everything. With infinite love.
Sometimes one is bound to a person because of timing, circumstance, and the people you share. Bud Browne was bound to John Peck because of surfing. That was timing and circumstance. But, I am tied to John because of the people we shared, Bud Browne, and my father, Buzzy Trent. But sometimes, I wonder if we’re just bound to people because the universe wills it.
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06/26/2016

Launch of Anna Trent Moore’s New Book
“Going Surfin’ Surfing Profiles of Bud Browne’s People
Honolulu Museum of Art, Doris Duke Theatre
5:30 PM, July 28th, 2016

After patiently listening to me express frustration with my flawed abilities as a writer, for what was undoubtedly a good amount of time, my good friend Ricky Grigg responded to my lamentations with four simple words. “Why do you write?”
I knew immediately that this was a turned inside out question; not intended as a criticism, but rather, a challenge, meant to prod me to discover my own validation. I paused and thought hard, searching for the right answer. It was always important to me that I didn’t disappoint, and I felt compelled to respond importantly. He could sense this, and so, trying to steer me away from a potentially disingenuous response, he repeated the question with a slight hint of impatience, “Why do you write?” And this time, releasing the first thing from my heart, I said, “Because I want to leave something.” He grinned back at me in that boyish way of his. “That’s it. That’s why you do it.” I loved it when he approved, because to me, he would always be the brilliant professor, and I, just a little finger painter.
And of course, he was so right. We write it down because if we didn’t, the tide would wash it all away.

01/02/2016

Nalu and Peahi
A Story Written by Anna Trent Moore

(Nalu is the Hawaiian word for ocean wave. Peahi is the Hawaiian name lent to the Big Wave break known as Jaws)

Long ago and very far away, there lay an island land surrounded by a sapphire ocean. So exquisite was this place, that it was said that this was where beauty lived. And of course, it was true, for no loftier sky, softer trees, or finer sand, ever graced another place.
This was where Wind chose to rest when he blew from sea. And when Sun rose each morning, it was here that he cast his most golden rays. Then, as night fell, Moon would rise high in the most jeweled sky, and cast her beams down toward the shore, sparkling the sand that lay upon it like a carpet of pearls. Until finally, Water would arrive, hugging the shore, lulling every living thing to sleep with her comforting sounds.
And every day it was this way, and time knew no beginning, nor end, and the rhythm of the days were as continuous as the beating of the heart.
On this land lived two sisters named Nalu and Peahi, whose beauty, it was said, surpassed even that of the fragrant flowers and heavenly sounds that filled their world. Theirs was a life as timeless as the Wind, Sun, Moon, and Water that found its way to rest there.
Every morning, Nalu and Peahi rose to greet Wind with their childish laughter and happy smiles. Frolicking with Water, and tending the land, they had never known anything but joy and happiness wrapped within a world of beauty. One day passed into the next, so that it was as if time had become invisible.
But then, one evening, as Peahi walked along her pearly shore, after an evening swim, she spied a bright glimmer beneath her feet. It was a shell. Crouching low, she grasped it with both hands, and drawing it toward her face for a closer look, she saw that this odd shell was unlike any other she had found on her island before. Taking it to her sister Nalu, she asked, “Have you ever seen such a strange shell?”
“No,” replied Nalu.
“Where does it come from?” asked Peahi.
Shaking her head, Nalu replied, “It is not from our land.” Both sisters stared out to sea as Peahi cradled the strange shell in the palm of her hand.
“Let us ask Sun who is wise and knows everything,” decided Peahi. When Sun appeared she asked, “Do you know where this shell has come from?”
“It is from a far away place,” replied Sun.
“Where is this place?” she asked. But Sun would not respond and hid behind a passing cloud.
Peahi waited for Moon, and when Moon appeared asked, “Moon, tell us where this shell comes from?”
Moon closed her eyes and whispered, “Put it back my child and allow Water to return it from whence it came.”
But Peahi would not obey Water and instead, waited for Wind.
“Wind will know,” she thought. “Wind has been to many lands. Wind will tell me.” But when Wind came, she sadly shook her head.
“That shell comes from another world far, far from here. A place without fragrant flowers, soft trees, pearly sands, or a sister gentle as Nalu. Peahi, put the shell back and I will help Water return it to whence it came, for it is not meant to live in your world.”
“Wind is right,” cried Nalu, who grew suddenly afraid. But Peahi could not bring herself to throw it to Water.
“The shell will go back, but it is I who will return it,” Peahi decided. “I would like to see this land that you speak of with no fragrant flowers, soft trees, or pearly sands, because I cannot believe such a place even exists.”
“No!” begged Nalu. But Peahi refused to hear Nalu’s cries, and climbing into Wind’s arms, bade her sister good-bye.
As Wind carried her away, Nalu’s voice cried out, “You must return Peahi. You must promise to return!”
“I promise,” her sister’s voice echoed back. And so, with Wind’s arms wrapped around her, Peahi traveled like a soft cloud over Water.
Traveling over an endless carpet of blue, she gazed down to Water and saw dolphins following her along the way. Then, she smiled as she saw Water’s soul, the Great Blue Whale, shadowing her journey. And every now and again, Wind would open her arms just a little, allowing her to wave to Water’s children, Sea Turtles, who lifted their heads to greet her, surprised to see her so far from home. All these creatures followed Peahi on her journey, until at last, Wind gently laid her unto a new land.
Peahi rubbed her eyes. It was as if she were in a dream. Instead of soft swaying trees, there were green prickly plants crawling thirstily upon black rocks of lava. Instead of singing birds, the air was heavy with silence. Rather than a soft pearly shore, there were sharp bits of broken coral beneath her feet that hurt to stand upon. Opening her hand, she laid the shell upon its harsh shore, and asked Water, “Where are the trees, fragrant flowers, or soft sand in this land? Why has beauty left this place?”
“No my child.” explained Water, “When Beauty hides from the eyes, one must search to find it with the heart.”
“Beauty could never live in this place!” she yelled back at Water in great anger.
“Beauty lives in many places.” said Water. “See with your heart and you will find it.” And with that, Water grew silent as wind carried the clouds to another shore. Peahi wandered the island trying to discover beauty, but all that she could see were black rocks upon a harsh land. When night came, she closed her eyes and began to weep. Suddenly, she heard Moon’s voice.
“Do not cry. Open you eyes,” whispered Moon.
Peahi opened her eyes and cried up to Moon. “Moon, how I wish I had never come to this place! I cannot live without beauty!”
“Follow my beam,” said Moon. And as she did, tucked secretly in the crevice of a black lava rock, a beautiful blossom unfolded its white petals one by one, beneath the light of Moon’s silvery beam. Bending toward the flower, Peahi breathed in the most fragrant blossom.
“It’s called the Night Blooming Cerious,” said Moon. “They bloom only at night when I come with stars.” As Peahi looked around her, hundreds of night flowers began to blossom at once, filling the night air with its intoxicating scent, until, at last, she fell asleep with the sweetest fragrance perfuming the air.
Night turned to day, and when Sun rose, he greeted Peahi with his yellow warmth and said, “Look around you my child.” And when she did, she found herself laying upon a bed of thousands of pieces of broken coral, blindingly bright of the purest white. Picking up a piece, she laid it upon her outstretched palm, and saw that it was in the shape of a heart.
“Each coral heart,” said Sun, “is a reminder that this land loves you, but always remember that love can only be received when it is given away.” Closing her palm around the coral heart, she pulled her arm back, and threw it out to the water, smiling as a splash of water rose high into the air.
And as the days passed, Peahi began to see with her heart, and in doing so, her eyes discovered this land in a new way. The black lava rocks that once appeared harsh and uninviting, now filled her soul with a welcomed peacefulness. She cherished the night blossoms that seemed to release their fragrant perfume just for her. And she held dear the coral hearts that glimmered in Moon’s light, because they reminded her that this land loved her. Her tenderness for this land grew larger each day, until at last, she discovered that truly, beauty surrounded her. And this is the way it was for a long while, and one day passed into another, until time became invisible.
Then one day, playing on the shore with Dolphins and Turtle’s children, a faint sound, almost like a song, drifted toward her, from somewhere far out at sea. She stopped and gazing toward the horizon, tilted her ear, so as to hear it clearer. The sound grew louder, until suddenly, she recognized it. It was her sister Nalu’s voice, echoing tearfully, “Peahi, come back…come back…”
Peahi tried to capture Nalu’s voice with her arms but it was useless. Her face softened like clay, as tears fell upon the shore. Her heart ached from the weight of an unbearable sadness, and the realization that she had broken her promise to return. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine the land she once shared with Nalu, but to her great sadness, all she could see was this land that now held her heart. Opening her eyes, she turned back to look upon the lava mountains, the plants with their moon blossoms, and beach of white coral hearts. And then, when she tilted her head gently and listened, she heard her island’s song. It was the sound of peacefulness. Peahi knew then that this was where she belonged. This was where her heart now lay.
Looking below at her feet, her eyes caught the reflection of something bright. It was the shell that had brought her to this land long ago. Crouching low, she grasped it with both hands, and placing the shell to her mouth, breathed her soul deeply into it.
“Water,” she said, “Carry this back to Nalu and tell her that although I cannot leave this place, I send her my spirit inside of this shell.”
“As you wish,” said Water.
Peahi threw the shell to Water, and Water began to carry it back to Nalu just as she had promised. But as she approached Nalu’s land, just before reaching shore, the shell suddenly rose high above Water and transformed itself into a beautiful wave. So large was it that Nalu saw it from a great distance, and came running to greet it. She knew at once that it was her sister Peahi sending her love in the form of a giant wave, because when the great wave folded upon itself, she could feel the breath of her sister’s spirit upon her face. Closing her eyes, she smiled with happiness, breathing in her sister’s breath.
And so it is, still, to this day, whenever the longing for her sister is so great, Peahi sends her spirit in the form of a great wave back to her sister Nalu. A reminder that her spirit will always return, and that it is possible for the heart to live in two places at once.

11/21/2015

06/10/2012

July 22, 2012
Book Signing with
Author Anna Trent Moore
Malibu Shirts
Waikiki, Hawaii

02/20/2012

3 February, 2012 : - In the 1940s, behind where Shutters and Casa Del Mar stand today, there was a beach known as The Ink Well - the only place on the Westside of Los Angeles where people of color could congregate comfortably. A teenager named Nick Gabaldon frequented the beach with friends and fami...

02/20/2012

Today's Black History Month Profile is...NICK GABALDON! Gabaldon was Californian's first black Surfing icon. He hung out with such legendary surfers as Bob Simmons, Joe Quigg and Matt Kivlin. In 1951, Gabaldon died when he crashed into the Malibu Pier while attempting a surfing move known as a "pier ride," or "shooting the pier." In 2008, the City of Santa Monica dedicated a plaque on the stretch of Santa Monica State Beach called the "Inkwell" to honor Nick Gabaldon's contribution to the sport of surfing.

02/20/2012

A wonderful evening honoring a most extraordinary man.

Most people probably have not heard of Nick Gabaldon. Until now, Nike has presented the Nick Gabaldon Story, 12 Miles North. Nicholas Roland Gabaldon grew up in Santa Monica near the sea and the location of the Inkwell, a segregated portion of Santa Monica Beach where black people where not stopped ...

02/11/2012

The VisitWritten by Anna Trent MooreWe never really lose people we love. They visit us in our dreams. Anything of value is never let go easily. More than likely, it’s released painfully, encumbered with self doubt the entire way. If you discover the contrary, then perhaps it’s necessary to ask yours...