waves
find me unafraid.
If you happen to know me in waking life, you’d know that I am obsessed with the ocean.
I adore orcas. So much so that when I heard IKEA carried an orca plushie, I asked my friend to drive us there asap. Had to have it.
When I am overwhelmed, I imagine myself leagues deep in the water column where the water is near black. So quiet. I feel immediately soothed.
I, at times, also lull myself to serenity by watching asmr documentaries of octopuses, sea angels, and everything else that lives out there.
It’s in my journals via stickers and dolphin washi tapes.
A visit to the Monterey Bay aquarium is written at the top of my please-do-this-before-you-expire list. As is an excursion to the fjords in Norway.
Footage of a humpback swimming peacefully plays when my laptop goes to sleep. I make a note to change the screensaver to something else for the sake of variety. But for some reason, I never get around to it.
It also is an integral part to one of my all time favorite hobbies.
I remember the first time I tried it. Surfing. A couple of friends said they were planning on camping out on the shore in San Diego, and they invited me to come along. Though I am averse to ski and skateboard (no broken bones for me, thank you very much), my mind equated water with safety. So I said yes, my decision a no-brainer.
And boy, did I love it. I still do. Being away from the water has made me forget, but the stickers, the plushie, the videos have been sending me winks of light lately.
Like hey remember this?
And the strange message: you can surf now, if you wanted.
There’s ritual I’ve built up throughout the years. Pick a cute outfit that matches the temperature of the water. San Diego in March required a wetsuit. Pavones had no issue with my Billabong two-pieces. Rent a board if I didn’t bring my own. Or depending on where I am and who is around me, someone will lend me one. After plopping my bag somewhere on the shore, waxing the board, and putting on copious amounts of sunscreen, I put on the ankle leash and paddle in. I check out who else is out in the water — there’s an etiquette to all of this, you know. Don’t steal waves, wait your turn. When a wave is way above my skill level, I get out of the way of the professionals. And unless I have a boat that transports me to a specific spot — where the waves are scarier — and it stays close to me as I wait for the tide to swell up and break, I don’t swim out too, too far. Strong currents are not an urban legend, my friend.
Timing is everything. I tend to favor early morning so I am not burnt to a crisp by the sun later in the day. I intuitively get the overwhelming sense, once in the water, that I will not catch every wave. In fact, at times, I may not even want to. I am busy looking at the horizon, other surfers doing cool things, or if I’m extra lucky, I see porpoises! It also applies to exits too. I remember a friend telling me about the time he had to walk through some coral to get out. The water snuck up on him, tide had been low — he didn’t clock it, and it made him trip and crash into jagged edges. A bloody, painful mess.
Speaking of messes, knowing how to get through the white water will do you well.
Turtle roll for longboard where you flip the board upside down so underside faces the sky, grab the rails, submerge beneath the wave.
And duck dive for shortboard where you use your arms and one leg to push down on it so that you go under the wave.
You can surf now, if you wanted.
That holographic pink dolphin washi tape on my desk has me thinking.
When you are out in the water, you gotta enjoy it for what it is, especially if you’re new to it. You could choose to get frustrated, and that’s valid, but believe me there is something about being out there that is purely, stupidly good. I mean, you’re in the ocean! If you love it as much as I do, that’s already a boon. I swear, you could be paddling for hours with the sun toasting you and be ok if that’s all you end up doing. Because the point is to move, to feel, to see.
Surrender. Enjoy. It’s not that big of a deal.
When you are under a wave, holy shih, it’s dark. Picture the sky on a day you know the clouds are about to deliver torrential rain. Then add a green tinge to it. That’s how it is. Feeling-wise, it’s like being in a washing machine. The wave carries so much energy in several directions. Either roll over, or dive in enough to miss most of the turbulence.
Surrender. Enjoy. You know what to do. You are not the wave, but in a way you’re part of it. Work with it, or avoid it altogether. Go deeper so you can resurface, oriented.
When you do catch a wave — aided (you can hire a surf instructor if you need one) or not — wowee. It’s SURREAL. Is this how birds feel when they fly? That glide! You almost feel like you’re floating. Well, I guess technically you are gliding. And floating. On an epoxy or foam board. Still, it’s not a sensation you feel often on land. It’s exhilarating.
Surrender. Enjoy. You’re capable of wonderful things. You’ve done them before, you’re doing them now, you’ll do them again (especially if you practice).
And when you’ve had your fill, you’ll let the waves push you out. You’ll go get your bag. Maybe eat a rice bowl, with avocado of course. Drink a beer, or a marg. Or just coconut water. Definitely put on some aloe cream. Sit under an umbrella and read, or watch the surfers still out there pump and twirl and cut the water like a heated knife to butter. Maybe you’ll go back out there. The ocean never ceases to call for you. Or instead you’ll join your friends and play a game of cards, chat with your partner about what you’ll have for dinner. The ocean can wait.
Surrender. Enjoy. You almost forgot... This is all for fun.