Surfism: a model of Semiosis

If you think of the surfboard as the medium for surfing expression, then surfboard design is its grammar. It is the structure through which surfing expression can flow. The aim of surfboard design is to refine this structure so surfing expression can become more fluent.

The surfboard design process can be described as building a bridge between shape and context, based on function. According to this approach, the designer is concerned with two sides of a relationship (Alexander, 1964, p.16). On one side, there is the shape of the surfboard itself. On the other side is the surfboard's context, which is every external condition that influences its function. The most obvious factors that play a role in a surfboard's context are physical in nature; from the surfer's weight to the size and shape of the wave. These are taken into consideration when deciding on a surfboard's length, width and thickness/volume. However, the ultimate aim of surfboard design is to relate shape to motion, since the ideal is a surfboard that becomes absorbed into the surfer's movements.

To visualise the response of the surfboard, the designer reduces the surfer's influence to a set of rotational axes. At this level of abstraction, manoeuvres can be represented diagrammatically, enabling the designer to more easily visualise the different phases of a manoeuvre, as well as the transitions between them. Whatever the axis of rotation, manoeuvres can be divided into two phases, a penetration phase and a release phase. The penetration phase is characterized by the inward rotation of the surfboard, while the release phase involves its outward rotation. By visualising each phase in terms of its rotational axis, or sequence of axes, the designer can identify which portions of the surfboard come into play for a given manoeuvre.

Having established a link between the surfer's actions and the under surface of the surfboard, the designer considers the force felt as resistance. The focus here is on the degree of drop-off allowing the water to escape. Imagine a straight line drawn across the bottom surface, depicting the flow of water. Now, picture this line as a cross-section of the bottom contours, as if drawn on a piece of graph paper. The curve of this cross-section determines the force generated during the penetration phase of the manoeuvre. For example, a concave curve is more responsive than one which is convex.

For the sake of simplicity, the greatest amount of resistance is achieved by rotating the surfboard sideways, since the bottom curve aligned with this plane of rotation provides the least drop-off. Subsequently, the penetration phase of a manoeuvre tends to be characterised by rotation of the board in or near to this plane. By contrast, the release phase is characterised by a transition from this rotational plane toward either the centre plane, by directing the water out through the tail, or into the horizontal plane, by sliding the tail out. The horizontal plane obviously provides the least resistance, since it is limited to the surface area of the fins. However, the loss of resistance felt in the central plane results from the surfboard's rocker, since the greatest amount of surface drop-off is directed through the tail.

The blending of these curves, which fan out from the centre of the board, influences the transition from rail-penetration to release through the tail. Although curvature from nose to tail and from side to side, by themselves, determine the extent to which penetration and release contribute to a surfboard's performance, it is the blending of curves between these two that ensures that the board enters and exits turns smoothly and with minimal loss of speed.

Although surfboards can be represented in 3D, with movements reduced to rotational axes, surfing manoeuvres are as much the transition between rotational axes as the axes themselves. So, it is exceptionally difficult to visualise at this level of abstraction, without drawing on actual surfing experience. The surfer-shaper adjusts the shape of the surfboard in his mind's eye, while simultaneously invoking the sensation of its movement through the water. Some shapers sense the response of the surfboard through their finger tips, by mimicing the flow of water across the surface of the board.

The ability to visualise shape in the context of motion is radically different to everyday spatial perception. Ordinarily, spatial perception sets motion in the context of space. Space provides a sense of motionlessness - a sort of reference to show how motion differs to it. For example, we typically regard motion as a change of position, a reference to something fixed. But as a consequence, motion is seen as a movement in space when it is actually a movement of space - a space in motion.

The spatially derived model of reality is based on how the dimensions differ to each other. Space is characterized by the difference between a plane and space. The planes set the context for the idea of space. The edges of a plane provide a context by showing the line where the plane ceases to be a plane. The difference between a line and a plane is what the concept of a plane is based on. To visualise a line, we give it ends. Each end of the line is a point and together they serve as the context for the line. They show the difference between a line and a point, and in this way they define the point at which a line ceases to be a line.

Successive dimensions build on lesser dimensions; for example, a line as a series of points. So, each dimension can be 'placed' within dimensions higher than itself, but not lower than itself. However, while this is clear for each of the dimensions leading up to the three dimensions of space, it is not so clear how time 'contains' its lesser dimensions. The problem is the spatially derived model of reality. We understand the passing of time to be in relation to the present moment, as if the 'now' has no duration. We supposedly experience a string of nows. However, it is only for sake of the concept that the passage of time differs to the present. The contrast does not reflect reality, but the setting of a context.

What the concept of time fails to take into account is that successive dimensions merge. They are not discrete. Each dimension carries within it the dimensions lesser than it. So, instead of focusing on how the dimensions differ to each other, we will consider how they differ in themselves. This reveals that the essence of a point is its location, the essence of a line is its alignment, the essence of a plane is its form, and the essence of a space is its density.

In considering how a motion differs in itself, one is tempted to describe it in linear terms: i.e. the path it follows. But this is not its essential quality, since a line has just one dimension, not four. Neither can we narrow it down to its location, form or density, though that which moves certainly has these characteristics too. But all these things being equal (imagine two identical movements side by side) there remains one characteristic which belongs solely to motion: its speed. This is how motion differs in itself - making speed the essence of motion.

The variable of speed is beyond the ordinary conception of motion, so we tend to regard it as inconsequential. But motion in the sense of speed is precisely how it ties in to reality. This can be observed in the shape of a wave. It is not simply that the form would not exist without motion, but that the variable of speed determines the variety of curves in a wave. A standing wave behind a rock in a stream is a good example of this principle: the water flows through the wave while the form expresses the various speeds at which the water is moving.

The whirlpool is a particularly good example because the dimensions are seen to be variables linked in a unified system. There is the alignment of its axis, the form of its surface, the matter it draws inward and, since a vortex rotates progressively faster toward its centre, the variable of speed. Placing a tiny pointer in a whirlpool can show the part played by motion. The pointer remains parallel to its original alignment, despite being carried around and around. This indicates that motion, rather than content, determines the form (Schwenk, 1996, p.45).

The concept of time fails to account for the diversity of change, since the division of time and space implies that change is restricted to the 4th dimension. However, assuming that change is the very essence of reality, rather than a mere aspect of it, it follows that the essence of each dimension is how that dimension changes. By setting each dimension in the context of change, the concept of time subsequently loses its significance as one of the dimensions, as such, separated from space. To subordinate the dimensions to the concept of time ignores the crucial point that each dimension finds its expression in change and that change is, moreover, what holds them together.

Having reinstated motion as the fourth dimension, it becomes apparent that time is also a generalisation of change. Just as we tend to regard motion in terms of its lesser characteristics, so too do we have an inferior perception of that other form of change called growth. Since growth depends on but is more than motion, it might be a higher dimension, with evolution as its essence. To address this proposition, the focus has to shift from the ontological to the ontogenetic, i.e. from what things are, to how they come to be.

The development of spatial structure in the embryo has been found to involve a chemical reaction which is analogous to standing waves (Lehar, 2003, p.2). Using a staining technique, morphogenesis can be seen in the early embryo, in the form of a periodic banded pattern. This pattern indicates alternating concentrations of morphogens, which chemically mark the tissue, identifying which cells belong together. The mechanism, known as reaction diffusion, involves a continuous process whereby morphogen P catalyses the production of more morphogen P, plus morphogen S, which inhibits morphogen P. The physiological development of the organism is thus marked out, distinguishing bones, muscles, internal organs, etc.

The underlying argument is that the evolution of biological form is founded on generic physical forces, which presumably served as morphological templates within which genetic selection could operate. While the similarity between so many physical and organic forms suggests such a connection, the case is rather more compelling if one considers that many organisms have morphological features that are similar to physical forms despite being genetically unrelated. For example, a 3D logarithmic spiral found in seashells is also evident in tidal-washed kelp fronds and in the shape of our own skin pores (Pronk, 2008, p.4).

Natural patterns and processes are often applied to the development of new technology. This approach to design, called Biomimicry, enables designers to take advantage of the millions of years of incremental variations that have been made through biological evolution, to gain insight into the underlying principles determining naturally evolved shapes. For example, a highly efficient fan blade has been designed using the 3D logarithmic spiral, which appears throughout the natural world, because this shape optimises the flow of water or gas across its surfaces (p.4).

Only actively moving creatures evolved a nervous system. So, the evolution of mindness could be the result of the brain internalising movement (Llinas, 2001, p.17). The process of internalisation can be seen in shark embryos, which undulate rhythmically inside the egg to ensure the even distribution of oxygen necessary for tissue development. At this stage of development, the movement is generated solely by the muscle cells, which have not yet been innervated by motoneurons. When the motoneurons migrate from the spinal cord to the muscles, the electrotonic coupling of muscle cells ceases, allowing the brain to take control of motricity.

The motility properties of the muscles are embedded into the neuronal circuits of the spinal cord, where they become integrated into the vestibular system, which monitors the effects of inertia acting on the organism through gravity and momentum. By altering interneuronal pathways, central pattern generators co-ordinate rhythmic movement of a range of motor outputs (Zehr, 2005, p.56). Simply visualising a motor skill can modify the neural substrates for its physical performance (Pascual-Leone, et al. 1995, p.1038). Mental practice is encoded into the neural networks, strengthening the same activation patterns triggered by the physical training. Visualisation is frequently used by performers to hone their skills. Even muscle strength increases, i.e. without the physical activity you would think was necessary for muscle growth (Ranganathan, et al. 2004, p.945).

Bridging the gap between minds, the internalisation of movement is supported by mirror-neurons, so-named because they fire in response to movements that share a common trajectory, whether performed by you or someone else. Mirror neurons facilitate the transfer of skills, e.g. from parent to child, by coding movements in terms of their purpose (Gallese & Metzinger, 2003, p.369). The mind learns how to deal with objects through their use, which is fundamentally different to their spatial presence, since the use of an object extends the self beyond its physical limits. This is not to say that there exists a metaphysical plane of consciousness. On the contrary, an extension of the self depends on the structural coherence of consciousness and physiology. Since language has also evolved through incremental variations that benefit the organism (or else decay through lack of use), the morphology of language might also be founded on generic physical forces.

The surfer-shaper's ability to invoke the link between spatial and temporal relations legitimises the surfing metaphor as a tool for visualising the spatio-temporal structure of language. When we apprehend speech sounds, the interplay between spatial and temporal relations can be used on the semantic plane, where words function as "anchor points around which complex neural dynamics can then swirl and coalesce" (Clark, 2005, p.18). Metaphorically, language rides the mind like a surfboard riding a wave.

The interplay between spatial and temporal relations can be sensed in tube riding, where the surfer has to be especially sensitive to the transition between active and passive engagement, which is controlled by the surfer shifting his centre of gravity relative to the surfboard. By shifting weight inward, the surfer actively engages the wave, because this causes the surfboard to penetrate at a sharper angle, which increases the resistance and, therefore, also the speed. By leaning outward, the penetration angle is lessened and the surfboard becomes flat against the water, making it drift sideways, thus slowing it down. Actively engaging the wave can be likened to foregrounding an entity, because the surfboard - its shape and motion - is the primary factor influencing where it is going. Passively engaging the wave can be likened to invoking background information, because the surfboard follows a track determined more by the shape and motion of the wave than by the shape and motion of the surfboard.

On this basis, a parallel can be drawn between the surfer's centre of gravity and the notion of construal in Cognitive Grammar. Active and passive engagement of the surfboard is analogous to the different processes determining count-nouns versus mass-nouns, i.e. how certain aspects of an entity can be highlighted or suppressed, to suit the communicative intent. For example, the count-noun waves highlights the individual entities that comprise a surf (i.e. the referent of the mass-noun), which conversely, suppresses the salience of individual waves to render the same entity as a mass. This can be represented diagrammatically in terms of the boundary of one's attention relative to the boundary of the referent, such that one lies either inside or outside the other, as depicted in figure 1. For count-nouns, the referent lies within the boundary of attention. For mass-nouns, the focus of attention lies within the boundary of the referent.

When the focus of attention lies within the boundary of the referent, as in the case of mass-nouns, a sense of quality supplants the sense of quantity engendered by the reverse situation. Conversely, when the referent lies within the boundary of attention, quantity over-rides quality, to draw attention to the individual units. However, the symmetry of this depiction is misleading, since mass-nouns subsume count-nouns, e.g. surf subsumes waves. The difference in their construal is not easily represented in 2D, because construal is not a spatial relationship. But, it does concern spatial perception; which differs to spatial relations insofar as perception is a process and hence temporal.

Figure 1. Construal serves to highlight quantity versus quality.
Diagram derived from Langacker (2008, p.133).

If we equate count-nouns with foregrounding, then in the context of spatial perception, their individuation simultaneously separates the perceiver from the entity perceived, setting the two in a spatial context. Conversely, the correlation between mass-nouns and background information suspends this separation of the perceiver from the entity perceived, with the result that its quality is revealed through the invocation of a temporal context, projecting the observer's own sense of presence into the entity in question. Both mechanisms stem from spatial perception, but emphasise opposite aspects of the process, i.e. spatial versus temporal relations.

This link between quality and temporal relations (versus quantity and spatial relations) is also evident in verbs, where perfective verbs profile an event and imperfective verbs profile a state. Events are inherently temporal, so perfective verbs carry a sense of transition from one state to another, e.g. fall, jump, kick, bite, throw and break. Since these verbs represent processes involving two states, they are perceived in a spatial context, which simultaneously separates the perceiver from the event perceived. By contrast, a single state is inherently atemporal, so imperfective verbs invoke the temporality of the perceiver's own presence, (which differs to the temporality of events, insofar as presence is an unchanging state). Examples of imperfective verbs are; know, believe, like, love, detest and appreciate.

Although nouns and verbs are traditionally characterised as polar opposites, they each divide into sub-categories on the basis of essentially the same schema (Langacker, 2008, p.128). The prototypical nouns and verbs correspond to isolated objects and events, because the context of categorisation is inherently spatial. Although we tend to characterise nouns as objects and verbs as events, count-nouns and perfective verbs are no more valid than mass-nouns and imperfective verbs. But, their spatial character sets them apart more clearly than their alternatives would. Langacker (2006) agrees on this point, stating that:

"Viewed as nodes in a network, category members are discrete. ... The nodes of a network are invariably visualized spatially as fully disjoint, i.e. separate and non-overlapping. ... It would however be unrealistic to suppose that they are wholly distinct at the level of cognitive processing. ... Ultimately, linguistic units reside in recurrent patterns of neurological activity." (p.141).

However, Langacker suggests that the perceptual experience of distance is responsible for the distinction between count- and mass nouns. In agreement with Lakoff (1987, p.428), he explains:

"(W)hen viewing a collection from an increasingly greater distance, there comes a point when we can no longer distinguish individuals, and thus perceive them as a continuous mass." (Langacker, 2006, p.111).

Since distance is a spatial variable, I do not think it can be responsible for the sense of quality invoked by mass-nouns, nor the temporal presence invoked by imperfective verbs. Although proximity is implicated in our ability to distinguish individuals, which can then be metaphorically extended to characterise events, proximity by itself would not be responsible for their isolation. Langacker suggests, moreover, that:

"The registration of contrast makes possible the detection of a boundary...." (and that bounding is the) "crucial property differentiating count and mass nouns, as well as perfective and imperfective verbs." (p.113).

But, I would respectfully argue that the perceptual process responsible for isolating objects is not spatial, in the sense of combining contrast and proximity, but spatial perception. The spatial metaphor is inadequate, because it takes temporality for granted. Continuous signifieds emerge from temporality in the same way the observer's perspective emerges from optic flow: the quality invoked by mass-nouns and imperfective verbs is derived from the quality of the observer's own presence. The difference between continuous signifieds and their discrete counterparts; count-nouns and perfective verbs, is motivated by the difference between temporal and spatial relations.

Language involves the simultaneous interpretation of its so-called spatial and temporal axes: paradigmatic and syntagmatic relations. This corresponds to spatial perception insofar as spatial relations are perceived relative to the observer's perspective, which emerges simultaneously from the very same space that is being observed. In each case, there is a continuum between spatial and temporal relations; a spatio-temporal continuum. Toward either end of the continuum, utterances become increasingly nonsensical. Consider, for example:

(1) Colourless green ideas sleep furiously.

This sentence is as nonsensical as a visual scene of a distant object appearing to be supported by a near object, such as the tiny man standing on an outstretched hand in figure 2. Although the objects are suitably positioned to produce the illusion, we know that tiny men do not exist, just a "green ideas" do not exist. The large gap in space between these two objects corresponds to the large gap in meaning between these two words. Although they appear together, they do not belong together. The failure to make appropriate paradigmatic choices in language corresponds to the failure to perceive depth in space.

At the other end of the continuum, sentences are composed of words that are semantically connected, but poorly arranged. For example:

(2) Dogs harmlessly young bark friendly. (meaning: Friendly young dogs bark harmlessly).

This sentence could be likened to a portrait that repositions facial features in bizarre, yet still face-like assemblages, such as Picasso's cubist paintings of women (fig.3). The elements seem to belong together, to the extent that they are semantically related. But, the syntagmatic relations between the various elements are distorted. The fact that it still resembles a face can be equated with the horizontal alignment of the words, which start with a capital letter and end with a full stop, indicating that this group of words is a sentence.

Figure 2. A distant object appearing to be connected to a near object.



Figure 3. Bust of a woman seated in a chair. Picasso, 1939.

Since (1) lacks spatial integrity and (2) lacks temporal integrity, they each sit at opposite ends of the spatio-temporal continuum, with (1) at the temporal end and (2) at the spatial end. Of course, spatial and temporal relations are usually deployed to produce sensible utterances, by interacting to varying degrees, as per the notion of a continuum.

Chomsky (1957) suggests that the lack of meaning in a sentence like (1) proves that syntax is independent of meaning, because the syntactic patterns are coherent even when the meaning is not. But, the notion of a continuum challenges this postulate by representing grammar and lexicon as fundamentally interrelated.

Symbolic structure is supported by a phonological pole, represented by the act of surfing, and a semantic pole, represented by the breaking wave. Characterising the phonological pole, the penetration and release phases in surfing are analogous to obstruents and sonorants. Sequences of rotational axes direct flow across the wetted surface of the surfboard, such that each angle of flow corresponds to a phoneme. Characterising the semantic pole, the curvature in the surface of the wave is analogous to the access afforded by language to the contents of the mind. The hollower the wave, the deeper the access, the more layers of signification attainable. Between the contents of the mind and the phonemes we use to explore it, there is a yin-yang sort of struggle influencing what we 'make' of reality (both in terms of speech perception and speech production). This can be discerned in passages that employ Onomatopoeia. For example, the following passage uses the perceptual overlapping of sound and movement to characterise its denotation:

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance
'Tis not enough no harshness gives offense,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows,
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar,
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labors, and the words move slow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.

Alexander Pope ([1711] 2004).

The sense of movement induced by the speech sounds is seen to be analogous to the physical movements described. In effect, the rhythm of movements in the vocal tract mimic the interplay between spatial and temporal relations active on the semantic plane. As Pope suggests: "The sound must seem an echo to the sense".

The stimulation in one modality that triggers sensations in another is called synaesthesia. For example, a synaesthete may consistently experience a specific colour when hearing a particular tone or looking at a certain numeral. Mild forms of synaesthesia permeate consciousness. This is classically demonstrated by the Kiki and Bouba experiment, where a range of speech sounds differ in ways that remind us of shapes (Ramachandran & Hubbard, 2001, p.19). In this experiment, a drawing of two aliens is presented, as in figure 4. The subject is asked to identify which alien is Kiki and which is Bouba. The vast majority of respondents identify Kiki as the spiky alien and Bouba as the rounded one, indicating that our perception of sound and shape overlaps.

Figure 4. Kiki & Bouba.

The sounds that combine sequentially to form speech are taken from a set of sounds that can be articulated within the vocal tract. These basic components of speech sounds are divided into two groups, called obstruents and sonorants. Obstruents are produced by obstructing the air flow against a range of articulation points within the vocal tract. By contrast, sonorants are produced without obstructing airflow through the vocal tract. By equating obstruents with space and sonorants with motion, the combination of speech sounds invokes the image schemata corresponding to the physical motion denoted by the words or, in the case of Kiki & Bouba, the physical motion of the mind's eye as it interprets the shape.

Ultimately, the presence of meaning stems from the presence of perspective derived from optic flow. One becomes situated in language, just as one becomes situated in space. The observer's perspective projects spatial relations, which produce the bounding from which hypostatic abstraction is derived. The product of hypostatic abstraction then feeds back, to support another concept, in the same way that spatial relations feed back to situate one's perspective in space. Since the resulting spatial configuration changes from moment to moment, the feed-forward feedback mechanism repeats itself constantly, though only insofar as it serves to confirm where one is going, whether that be spatially or, as Peirce (1906) describes, semantically:

"That wonderful operation of hypostatic abstraction by which we seem to create entia rationis that are, nevertheless, sometimes real, furnishes us the means of turning predicates from being signs that we think or think through, into being subjects thought of. We thus think of the thought-sign itself, making it the object of another thought-sign.

Thereupon, we can repeat the operation of hypostatic abstraction, and from these second intentions derive third intentions. Does this series proceed endlessly? I think not. What then are the characters of its different members? My thoughts on this subject are not yet harvested. I will only say that the subject concerns Logic, but that the divisions so obtained must not be confounded with the different Modes of Being: Actuality, Possibility, Destiny (or Freedom from Destiny). On the contrary, the succession of Predicates of Predicates is different in the different Modes of Being. Meantime, it will be proper that in our system of diagrammatization we should provide for the division, whenever needed, of each of our three Universes of modes of reality into Realms for the different Predicaments." (para.549).

Peirce regards semiosis as the product of a triadic relation, comprising a sign, an object and an interpretant, such that a sign stands for an object to an interpretant. Surfing can likewise be described in terms of a triadic relation, in this case, between the wave, the surfboard and surfing. Like a sign, the wave exists in relation to itself. The surfboard is like an object in the sense that both are defined on the basis of a relation beyond itself. Surfing can be likened to an interpretant, because both are defined on the basis of their relation to the other two components.

Numerous mental phenomena are modelled on triadic relations. Fundamentally, this structure reflects the spatio-temporal structure of experience, represented in table 1, in the form of nine isomorphic schemas, each comprised of three a priori components, corresponding to temporality, space and emergence. The character of triadic relations can be visualised in the geometry of surfing:

Focus attention on the surfboard and ignore the shape and motion of the wave, which is subsequently reduced to a flat plane. The fact that waves are fantastically varied in their shape and motion reflects the limitless possibilities of each of the qualities listed under "temporality" in table 1. The precise nature of these qualities is incidental to the task of visualising a geometric representation of triadic relations. In terms of Peirce's categories, this is the "ground" onto which we introduce a "correlate" in the form of a surfboard. Now, we try to visualise the rotational axes that describe the surfboard's interaction with the wave. To make this easier, we can think of the lines of latitude and longitude circling the globe.

1. The first rotational axis traces a circle on the horizontal plane, which can be thought of as the Equator. So long as the surfboard rotates on this plane, its interaction with the wave has no affect. So, this is a monadic relation, defined solely by the "ground" (i.e. wave) in its relation to itself.
2. The second rotational axis traces a circle on any vertical plane; which can be visualised as the lines of longitude circling the globe from north to south. Rotating on any of these axes causes the surfboard to penetrate the wave, which represents a dyadic relation between the surfboard and the wave.
3. The third rotational axis traces a circle on a vertical plane set at right angles to each of the other two. This second vertical plane of rotation simultaneously introduces the variable of direction, in the sense of the surfboard traversing the surface of the wave. When all three rotational axes combine, monadic and dyadic relations become absorbed into triadic relations.

Having established a picture of this geometry, the next step is to consider the nature of monadic relations, i.e. the "ground" in its relation to itself. This can be thought of as the relation between the vertical axis and the horizontal plane of its rotation. But, this is an abstraction that denies the multiple forms created by a wave. The complete picture needs to include the wave, which expresses the interwoven nature of meaning.

Table 1. Isomorphic models depicting the organisational principles that make experiences coherent.

This aspect of language is addressed by Functional Grammar, which attributes multiple patterns of meaning to structural considerations within the clause (Halliday, 1994, p.30). It recognises that words are multifunctional, in the sense that they contribute to three strands of meaning, referred to as textual, interpersonal and experiential, which correspond to triadic relations:

1. The textual metafunction concerns the clause as a message, according to which the theme refers to its point of departure. It is a monadic relation in the sense that it grounds what is being said.
2. The interpersonal metafunction concerns the clause as a process in ongoing human experience. It is a dyadic relation insofar as it relates to features that are independent of itself; an actor participating in a process, directed toward a goal.
3. The experiential metafunction concerns the clause as an exchange of information between speaker and listener. It is a triadic relation insofar as a subject is deemed responsible for the validity of the information presented by the interpersonal metafunction.

As in surfing, each thread contributes a "dimension of structure" (p.35) to the composition of the clause. In fact, as Halliday (1994) explains:

"the threefold pattern of meaning is not simply characteristic of the clause; these three kinds of meaning run throughout the whole of language, and in a fundamental respect they determine the way that language has evolved." (p.35).

So, within the theme one finds an experiential element, which may be preceded by textual and/or interpersonal elements (p.53). Multiple patterns of meaning span longer stretches of language (p.54), which even "folds back on the setting in which it happens" (Garfinkel, in Firth 1995, p.273).

Late one night, I overheard a couple arguing in the street. Their speech was slurred and they seemed to be dragging their feet, so I think it is fair to assume they were on their way home from the local pub. Suddenly, the male of the species declared: "You're a fucking slut!" in response to which the female said: "I'm your fucking slut!" and together they continued stumbling along the street.

This lively exchange demonstrates how language is reflexively related to the context within which it is embedded. By saying "I'm your fucking slut!" the woman simultaneously observes, constructs and elaborates their relationship, through;

1. formulating the preceding comment as a threat to their status as a couple, thereby grounding it in the social context,
2. rejecting the allegation of infidelity, which thereby infers that their relationship is sound, and by
3. implicating her partner as responsible for their relationship being sound.

Corresponding to the textual, interpersonal and experiential metafunctions (indicated with italics), this analysis is adapted from Weider's (1974) observations of social cohesion in a halfway house for paroled drug addicts. Based on his research, Weider maintains that the order and intelligibility of any social context is reflexively related to behaviour that continually feeds back into the selfsame context (Firth, p.273). People are constantly doing contextual work in "seen but unnoticed" ways that parallel the organisational principles exhibited by other mental phenomena.

In terms of the surfing analogy, the simultaneous operation of metafunctions within metafunctions might be captured by the complex curvature in the surface of the wave. As previously mentioned, the hollow surface of the wave is analogous to the access afforded by language to the contents of the mind. Since waves exhibit a range of curvatures, reflecting contact with the sea bed, this feature could represent the concurrent expression of metafunctions at various levels of the text. This analogy is probably best expressed in the formation of a whirlpool, where it is easier to see that the water travels at different speeds, depending on the diameter of the orbit. In the time it takes for an upper level to complete one revolution, a lower level will have completed numerous. Considering the life-like changes that occur from moment to moment in a whirlpool - with its surface undulating and warping as it expands and contracts - the surfing metaphor could represent innumerable strands of interwoven meaning.