Sun Gods & Surfers True Adventure

By Stan Dean, John Van Hamersveld and Britt Collins

During a college break in 1983, 23-year-old Stan Dean set off with two friends on a dream road trip from California down the coast to Mexico in search of surf, self, and adventure.

Growing up in a bohemian family in suburban L.A., Dean is tro

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stan Dean
• Release date: Nov 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218959944

Stan Dean

Stan Dean is an acupuncturist and herbalist and has studied and taught Tai Chi Chuan for most of his life. He has taught high school biology in the Los Angeles area, English in Japan, and ran an import business out of Bali, Indonesia. He is also a Permaculture Design Specialist and currently owns and operates Wild Acres Ranch in North San Diego County. After years of adventure, Dean calls Manhattan Beach home where he resides with his loving wife, daughter, and two cats.

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Sun Gods & Surfers True Adventure

This is a work of non-fiction. All the events are recalled to the best

of my ability. However, some of the names of the people portrayed

in this book have been changed to preserve anonymity.

Copyright © 2023 by Stan Dean

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

scanned, uploaded, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any

form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording,

or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Edited by Britt Collins

Cover design by John Van Hamersveld

Published by Stan Dean

LCCN: 2023911864

ISBN:979-8-218-95994-4

First Edition Published 2023

INTRODUCTION

Surfers love to recount their adventures, swap tales, or ‘talk story’, usually with exaggerated flare—it’s inherent in the culture. Most every surfer has a whopper to tell, and countless hours have been spent sharing accounts of the fantastic personal conquests that come with the waves. There’s something mysterious and magical about surfing that’s impossible to describe and can only be experienced. Yet we love to go on about that one perfect wave on that one perfect day demonstrating our obsession with the ‘sport of kings’. And so, it’s in that tradition that I share this story with you.

When I was young, surfing and the sea captured my heart and consistently brought me joy, renewal, and sustenance like nothing else could except for maybe my mother, who was always there for me with abundant love and support regardless of my many faults and follies. I originally wrote this book for her. Over the years, she kept telling me that at some point, I had to come clean and tell her about my early years and all the crazy things I did. Always a little rough around the edges, I was the black sheep of the family. Mom knew there was a lot I never told her, likely some shocking but interesting stuff. I promised I’d start by telling her about my Mexican surf adventure and set to putting it all down. It came in fits and starts, but eventually, it began to take shape and evolved into a spirited true adventure story with a philosophical twist. I picked it up and put it down many times over the years. As my mom grew older and I knew she hadn’t much time left, I felt compelled to wrap it up. But I dragged my feet a little too much, and sadly she passed away suddenly of a heart attack about two weeks after I finished the first draft in early February 2020, never having the chance to read it. Nevertheless, I decided to complete the story with her in mind.

As a teenager, I caused my mother much grief and anguish. Though I came from a seemingly ideal family with two loving parents and three fine, fun brothers, I was often angry and defiant. Not sure why but changing schools every year before my teens certainly didn’t help. Just when I got used to a new set of friends in a unique setting, we’d move. And then I’d find myself in another new place with strangers. It seemed everything I loved and cared about was continually torn away from me—from good buddies to best friends to dogs. These changes were unavoidable, but of my three siblings, I felt them the most. I wound up often lashing out and getting into fights. I wasn’t anti-social, but I could be a little wild and unruly. Still, I always had lots of friends, and over the years, I circulated in multiple social circles and cliques at school. I hung out with the jocks, the stoners, the rockers, the geeks, the skaters, and the surfers, with no real allegiance to any one tribe.

In high school, I started partying, mainly to get with my hippy-leaning girlfriend. But soon, with the help of her older brother, I got deeper and deeper into the drug culture of the 70s. I sometimes got involved with the wrong crowd, making bad decisions and getting into trouble, occasionally with the law. I had countless close calls that could have turned out disastrously. My mom never got the full scoop on most of these events, but she feared and suspected the worst. This tale was to be a glimpse into that other world that I inhabited but that she never knew. It was to act as an introduction or an opener to deeper conversations. I could then reveal many more episodes from those early years.

While writing about my Mexican surf adventure, I describe a multitude of ‘chance meetings’ that seem to occur with some regularity. Out of the millions of people and places on the planet, I consistently crossed paths with the same people in the most unexpected ways. Strange meetings, coincidences, thoughts materializing—how could all these unlikely experiences occur? Reality was unfolding in perfect harmony with all my thoughts and desires—seemingly magical yet totally natural.

Some might say it’s luck or chance. Others call it fate or destiny. I’ve heard it said that fate is the cards you’re dealt, the circumstances you’re born into, and destiny is what you choose to make of that hand, the life you consciously build. But how might that work? How much of our lives are predestined? Or is it entirely our creation? Do you choose your parents and birthplace, your career, your partner, kids, cats, and dogs before you’re even born? Are the events in our lives determined by choice or karma, or random chance with zero cosmic backdrop?

Perhaps it is karma, actions creating reactions within a lifetime and stretching through a string of lifetimes. You betray someone in one lifetime, and someone betrays you in the next so that you might learn a lesson and gradually evolve spiritually, slowly polishing your soul as it grows, lifetime after lifetime. Perhaps we are reconnecting with old friends and family members through eons of time in strange and complex ways, taking care of unfinished business, or simply spending time with those spirits we feel a natural affinity toward. Maybe our lives do crisscross through time and space like cosmic wormholes connecting us in this lifetime and possibly through many lifetimes as we hop on and hop off the turning wheel of time.

Some may turn to religion or God to solve the mystery of our existence and the wonders of nature. Perhaps there is an ever-watchful creator who pulls all the strings and makes all arrangements. It could be he, or she rewards and punishes us according to our deeds. There may or may not be spirits or unseen guides who help us along the way, but we don’t know—maybe someday we’ll find out. Others may turn to science and see all experiences, the creation of life, and all of history as random events in a cold, meaningless, uncaring universe that came together accidentally. No rhyme or reason to any of it. Earth and all its inhabitants could be just an insignificant speck of dust floating around the vastness of space through billions of years.

I can’t help but feel there is something more to the big picture, something more profound that we can’t yet explain. Could all the ‘meaningful coincidences’ that happen be just random chance? Are all events managed by God, a great spirit, or many spirits that guide and influence us? Are we individually and collectively creating this reality as we go along, or is it just happening to us regardless of our beliefs, thoughts, and feelings? These are age-old questions, and my struggles with them are nothing new.

It’s likely much more fascinating than we imagine. It seems clear to me that our inner thoughts and feelings do indeed materialize into our day-to-day experiences. It’s as if there is a finer, subtle plane of thoughts and feelings that get stepped down into the denser physical plane of our existence—‘the law of attraction’—thoughts and feelings attracting experiences. Modern science has been slowly unraveling this phenomenon of mind influencing matter, especially with the advent of quantum theory. However, most people don’t pay any attention to it.

Throughout this adventure, I marvel at the profound complexity by which our reality unfolds, awed by the wonders of synchronicity. As I journey through Mexico while on a break from college, I chase the surf and end up catching a few waves and a few other things as well. Things get crazy at times, but the thrills never stop. I wrestle with my innate power to manifest my dreams and learn to trust my intuition and follow my instincts. Along the way, I run into a few unexpected surprises, and I grow up a bit. Was it all predestined? Did it all just happen to me, or was I creating it as I went along? I tend to think it was a bit more the latter.

1

THE SEA

To myself, I am only a child playing on the beach, while vast oceans of truth lie undiscovered before me.

—Isaac Newton

I’ve seen photographs of me playing in the shallow surf in Florida when I was four or five years old, but I have only vague memories of those first encounters with the sea. We lived in Nashville at the time and would make summer trips to Pensacola Beach or sometimes Myrtle Beach in South Carolina. I do remember finding shells, tons of beautiful, unbroken seashells of every variety. We collected hundreds of them, ancient artifacts to be treasured for many years to come. Put one of those large, pink concha shells to your ear, and you could hear the ocean echoing, stuck inside somewhere, just like the early memories echoing through my mind, stuck inside, distant yet immediate.

I spent my early childhood in Tennessee, the land of Davy Crockett, and country music. It was the early 60s, and my dad was a Methodist minister who helped start the first interracial church in the South, which I attended as a young boy. I liked playing with the other kids during breaks, but for me, church was a boring waste of time, and I hated bible study. Every Sunday, my parents had to drag me kicking and screaming to church. I recall them peeling me off the furniture as I desperately clung to it. I’d rather stay at home and play with the dog.

Through his work with the church, my father grew deeply involved with the civil rights movement of the 60s in what were some turbulent times. He ended up working with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and even marched with him in Selma, Alabama, where he narrowly missed being murdered by the KKK for doing so. A friend of his, another white minister, wasn’t so lucky and was killed.

Right around then, he began working for the Board of Education with the Methodist Student Youth Movement, which had him traveling all over the world organizing student conferences. He would bring back various souvenirs, strange foreign money, and record albums from faraway exotic places that my three brothers and I listened to with great delight—from Brazil to Russia and beyond. Eventually, his work landed our family in Switzerland for a year, starting in 1967. My brothers and I attended a French school in Geneva and learned to ski in the Swiss Alps. I was seven that year, and we explored much of Europe in our VW bus while camping out and staying at youth hostels from London to Rome and Munich to Madrid. We trudged through so many museums and galleries I thought I might die of art exposure. Though the travel was arduous at times, it was also imbued with a great sense of adventure. We were nomads bound together on this exciting journey, with every country feeling different and unique with new and exotic food and lovely, enchanting scenery. Exploring the Alps, the Mediterranean coastline, and the grand architecture and ancient ruins of Europe was fascinating, and it paved the way for my wandering spirit.

Upon returning to the States, we remained in Nashville for a year before Dad switched jobs, sending us to Los Angeles. The idea of moving to the West Coast, the land of movie stars, swimming pools, and orange groves, was cool, wild, and thrilling. I was also wary of leaving my friends and everything familiar behind. It was the summer of 1969, and I remember watching the Apollo moon landing on TV before we left. I was mesmerized by the images beaming to earth from so far away—so utterly foreign. Somehow a man on the moon and the vision of our lonely planet from outer space seemed to symbolize the monumental shift in consciousness that was being felt across the country—politically, socially, racially, sexually—and personally for me with a cross-country dive into the unknown.

Sometime in late July, we loaded up our Dodge station wagon and made the 2,000-mile trek from Tennessee to California. We had our tent trailer in tow, so we camped out every night along the way, something we did a lot while growing up. The drive west took us into the vast desert landscape. I had read about the desert in school, but seeing it and feeling it was surreal. Something about the intense dry heat and the emptiness that stretches on and on was both lonely and comforting. Crossing through this solitary, primitive expanse, I felt like my body was being purged—my slate was being wiped clean, preparing for something fresh. I was venturing into a whole new world that lay just ahead, not far from the cooling refreshment of the great Pacific, which I was anxious to see and feel.

The move was a significant change for me and my three brothers. Southern California was radically different from Nashville, with its dense woods and creeks, humid summers, and snowy winters. It was new and exciting in