As I paddled out today, many thoughts danced through my mind.
I had never surfed in open water, all alone before,
until today
And I had never gone out with such big sharks located so close.
I was safe though, I had Nantucket Sound, and flat waves,
and a clear head.
As I paddled past the rocks that appeared only at low tide, I dared farther and farther
out towards the blue line, all alone. The water was calm, which often doesn’t represent safety of any kind, not that the ocean ever makes promises, to anyone.
Looking back, the shoreline was so far away. If there was still an old man walking his dog, I couldn’t see either of them.
I breathed in deep, straddled my board and found myself praying.
I had never realized it before, but certainly this was not the first time I found comfort,
out in the open waves, to meditate, ponder and even ask for help.
Much like a conventional church, this House had often found me standing, kneeling and sitting….and even saying my prayers I remembered from when I was much younger. For some reason, those prayers brought me comfort, but probably not for any conventional reason.
I took the time to learn each word, look up each meaning and study the why’s just as I had learned to surf. Although I have been surfing for years, like my prayers, we are both a bit rusty.
This House is, like others, open to all, who dare to brave the elements. I guess that’s part of the reason I like it, it’s often quiet, and only dotted with those looking for the same thing: peace, energy, willpower, sacrifice and strength.
As I sit quietly, hearing only a distant lighthouse, I try to block out what might be under me, and instead focused on what might be over me. Without a physical roof overhead, it is easy for me to picture what might be up there, after my physical body has taken its last ride in this liquid medium.
I know some that read this will, or may disapprove, but if it can said that surf is where you find it (Gerry Lopez) than I feel that God (or whatever form of that you may find works best for you) can also be found, where you are looking.
As I lose my balance briefly from a rogue wave, I do not panic, but instead pull myself up and keep the dark thoughts out. I am in control, with a little help of course.
Although this House of sand and salt water may not have religious statues and stained glass windows, on very special days, when all is just right in the Universe, and the sun begins to set, and the fog begins to roll in softly across the wave tops, millions of color sprinkles are cast out across the water, and off in the distance, by the Sound, boats have begun to settle in and anchor. Somewhere, the lighthouse reminds us, that vision may not be at its best, but it is so beautiful, for those who dare to stay out just a few minutes past when it is considered safe, to pray, and think and ask the hard questions.
As I turn to make my way in, I feel a bit sad for those who can’t and don’t see this beauty and feel this safe place to talk, uninterrupted, to the Blower of the waves, and the Maker of the mist.
For one brief moment, I turn back around to give thanks to the ocean for taking me in, releasing me, hearing me, and trusting me enough to take care of Her, as She has always taken care of me.
Wishing you all blue skies and long, mindful surfs,
Chris
PS as promised my “twisted memoir” Letters to M will be out soon….if you would like more info about it please let me know. As always please give to those who cannot help themselves right now. For more info about reputable charities please email me at chris@fourleafclover.us
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