As I mentioned in last week's editorial and in a news article, tomorrow, in a strange event in Montevideo, a city that never has much to do with surfing, there will be a surfing film night and a humble essay linking the major surfing film productions to this small country that, I insist, never had much to do with surfing.

And in the various investigations, inquiries, and conversations I had for the presentation in question, there was one that left me thinking because of the beautiful context and meaning.

Forgotten Island of Santosha is the name of the film that Uruguayan Carlos Pardeiro brilliantly scored, so without fear of exaggeration I dare say that it was impressive... To the point that it strikes me that it is, in some way, a kind of legend that only a few in Uruguayan surfing know.

I mean, I'm surprised more people don't know about this. And I'm surprised that not as many people are familiar with the Uruguayan music featured in that film, that it hasn't won any awards, and that Pardeiro himself isn't a cult musician in the surfing world.

I spoke with Pardeiro to prepare for tomorrow's presentation. Looking to find the connection between him and the film, what led him to score it? How did a Uruguayan musician end up creating the soundtrack for one of the most influential films of the 1970s?

And, beyond the mind-blowing stories he told me (which I'll share this Saturday), I found something that inspired me, made me think, and that applies very well today.

The forgotten island of Santosha, or, The forgotten island of Santosha, which was later revealed to be Mauritius, is that paradise where we all want to go and live close to the waves and nature and far from the chaos of the big city and routines, but it is also a spiritual state.

Santosha is a Sanskrit word that combines Sam, meaning "completely or entirely," and Tosha, meaning "content," "satisfied," "comfortable." Together, it equals "completely satisfied."

The question arose, and I apologize if I sound so romantic on this Friday night: How far have we strayed from that place where we are completely content? Do we need a green island with waves to feel that way? Or can we perhaps be completely happy in this hectic life we ​​lead? Why can't we live in a permanent Santosha?

Of course I want my Santosha to have those perfect lefts! But as long as it doesn't, I still choose to live in my Santosha, whatever kind life gives me.

And I wish you all a life like Santosha, and that it never be a forgotten island, but a continent where we live every day; in peace, harmony, and wholeness!
Why not?!