T
here are certain people throughout history who can claim the
title “iconoclast.” These are individualists who care little for
how tradition or status quo dictate the way things should be
done; out-of-the-box thinkers who look at every situation
as an opportunity to innovate, and radicals who are compelled to find
a better way to do something...or a better something to do. Branson,
Jobs, Warhol, Gandhi...you know the type. Laird Hamilton is one of
those. So much so that he is the subject of a new documentary by film-
maker Rory Kennedy called, Take Every Wave.
I’ve watched the film twice now in its entirety and I’ve even gone
back over some passages repeatedly, each time, savoring the spectacular
footage as well as the riveting testimonials of a bunch of the world’s best
surfers and an assortment of related characters.
His unconventional upbringing laid the foundation for an attitude
Laird calls, “part coping mecha-
nism, part strategy.” By the time
Laird was born in San Francisco
in 1964, his father had split. As
part of a research study, his moth-
er, Joanne, gave birth at UCSF in
an experimental sphere filled with
saltwater designed to ease labor.
It was a proper birth for a future
waterman. When Laird was still
an infant, Joanne fled the big city
and moved to the North Shore of
Oahu where they could connect
with nature and live more freely.
It was the height of the Gidget era
and surf culture was in full bloom.
When Laird was a young child,
he was playing on the beach and
happened to meet Bill Hamil-
ton, a legendary pro-surfer and
bachelor (at the time). They had
an instant chemistry and became
unlikely companions. Laird took
Bill home to meet his mother, and
the two ended up marrying. Bill
adopted Laird. The family moved
to Kauai and had another baby,
a little brother for Laird named Lyon. For the boys, who were much
taller and blonder than their predominantly native classmates, school
was not easy. They were ostracized as “haoles”—a derogatory term for
non-natives. Laird became rebellious.
“Hey listen,” Laird says to me over the phone as he is driving down
the coast in his black Land Rover, “if there are people that don’t like
me for the way I was born, which is something I had no control over
(at least that I know of right now), then why would it bother me if I do
something that upsets them? I became almost devoid of peer pressure at
that point and I had a tendency to be a contrary—to want to go the ex-
act opposite direction of what is considered the direction that everybody
is or should go. I often cite Thoreau, ‘Disobedience is the true founda-
tion of liberty and the obedient shall be slaves.’ ”
“Thoreau, nice one Laird.” I’m actually not sure if I said that aloud
or in my own head. I’m still trying to keep my fangirl crush in check at
this point. There is so much that impresses me about this man, the most
obvious is the way he handles the ocean.
“Tell me about this defining moment in Take Every Wave when you
guys are finally successfully getting towed into Jaws and it’s a game
changer. You’re surfing Pe’ahi and the distinction is made between rid-
ing the giants and surfing them. Is that something that you were aware
of in that moment, sort of a distinction you made, were you able to
actually navigate those waves and have some sovereignty as you surfed
them?” This one I know I am asking aloud, and he responds.
“Up until that point we had been at the mercy of the power of the
conditions of the wave. All of a sudden we were able to match power
with power. It put us in a position that we could actually perform be-
yond strictly survival mode, which up until that point had been the only
way that we could ever be in those extreme situations. I avoid the con-
cept of ‘conquering’ the wave, because you don’t conquer something
that powerful, that majestic, something that superior; you don’t conquer
it but you gently exist in harmony with it. That’s something that can’t
happen when you are simply surviving.”
“That’s a metaphor for life,” I offer.
“Amen,” he laughs.
“So Laird, do you feel that
you’re at a point at 53...” I’ve
already confessed that he is ex-
actly eight weeks older than me,
“Do you feel like you’re at a point
where you’re able to dance with
life in a way that feels more har-
monious, less survival?”
“Living is a dangerous game
and dying is easy. It’s surviving
that’s difficult. The ocean teaches
you as soon as you get a little bit
proud, that’s when you get ham-
mered. But the truth is, yes, at 53,
when unforeseen situations arise
they don’t have the tendency to
derail me like they would when I
was 20 or 30. The use of stillness
helps. I think it’s easy to overreact
to things and as you get more time
at this game of living, you start to
realize that maybe you don’t need
to overreact. It doesn’t mean you
don’t feel it but you can wait to
act. In the military they say, ‘Slow
is smooth, smooth is fast.’ I like
that. That’s a metaphor for life.”
“You sound like a yogi, Laird. What role does yoga play in your life?”
“The relationship with yoga is an intimate relationship with oneself.
It’s about being consciously connected to yourself, to your body, to your
breath. I hear people say, ‘I do yoga to be more flexible.’ Actually no,
you should do yoga to be more connected to your body, to be able to
say, ‘Hey, this is my quad and my hamstring and my Achilles, and this
position is what makes me aware of the connection of all parts.’ Yoga is
a discipline that really isolates those relationships and connects you to
your body on an important level. I’ve spent time doing different types of
yoga over the years. Right now I give a substantial amount of my time
to my breathwork. It’s all about the underwater training, the ice, the
heat, and the breath.”
He is talking about his personal practice as well as the XPTlife fitness
program he runs with Gabby.
Intense underwater workouts on the floor of the pool with weights,
followed by extreme sauna and ice training. To my non-athletic self, it
looks like some sort of Navy Seal torture training. But no one makes
more out of the experience of living in a human body than Laird. No
one stretches the limits of what a human body is capable of like Laird.
It’s that thing he has about him. I am suddenly aware of how little I
know about my own body by comparison.