Something happens to me when I’m in the sea. I am both the child I was splashing and laughing in the waves while my mom sunbathed on shore and the adult that I am now, yet free from everything. There is only the sun on my face and the undulations of each wave. The sea integrates my introspective nature with my wild one. It calms me and unleashes me simultaneously. For me, when the conditions are gentle and mild, it’s bliss; when they’re harsh and choppy, it’s utterly humbling and makes me bow down at the Maker.
When I have had some time in the water, for the next 24 hours I feel a rocking motion within me that is the up and down of the wave now imprinted in my system. I feel my energy body entirely different as if I’ve just taken some type of drug or had a five hour yoga class.
Isak Dinensen wrote, “The cure for anything is salt water — sweat, tears, or the sea.”
This is true.
I surf but not for the thrills or danger. At my age, I don’t need to shred anything. I’m a long boarder and prefer mild, gentle waves like the Dumbo ride at Disneyland. I just want the calm ride in and to be free of injuries. Yet more than anything, I love to surf because it gets me in the water. You put on the little black seal suit that will keep you warm in the frigid Pacific and paddle out on your mini boat. Then as Jackson Browne sang, “Rock me on the water,” something does just that.
Nothing will commune you more with life pulse energy than the wave. When you catch one, you are being pushed by a force that runs the universe. In a weird way, you become one with the Universe. You are moving and being moved by Nature. It’s thrilling, intimate and completely unpredictable. It is solitude and communion.
I get in the water to make certain I’m more focused on living than dying.
Source: Lise’s Letters
Return to the Sea