Siesta reigned on the coast, beginning exactly when the first-morning bird fell silent, and the beam became steep from gently sloping. The leaves were still, the clouds on the horizon were immovable in the piercingly blue sky. You wanted to surrender to this sizzling "non-movement" and live like a ray, without a visible effort sliding along trunks and lush leaves.
Only the butterflies fluttered with rapture into the swealter and the pinkish wax frangipani flowers melted smoothly in the heat. We were slightly tired, like these dazed flowers under the sun.
But the ocean moved, rolled its transparent layers to the cliffs, with fragments of corals and mixed with the sand of our tracks...
We dropped exchanges without meaning but with laughter, without emotion, though in their expectation. It was hot. It was empty inside. Inside it was clean as if all the anguish swept away all the corners there with a swoosh broom, and our own words boomed in our heads as strangers, having sunk in this emptiness, reflecting not anything and melting.
When the ocean is restless, a series of waves pass through it by vast distances. Each wave - its blue plane, under the pressure of the wind rising a powerful fold in the light of the day. It seems that they are all similar and have no faces, doing the same work, laying out the moist power of the ocean along sandy and rocky shores. And this is so for anyone who leisurely glances along wired waters, but the surfer knows that each of the waves has its own face.
Wave, big or small, is yours, and you're on it alone. This co-event and co-being with the world.
You face the greatness of the ocean, and in the intercourse with it the depth opens in you, there is a union with what you were torn from, this is the way back to yourself. In the face of the ocean, you are left alone, there are no one's backs behind which you can hide - everything that seemed to appear significant becomes ephemeral. You here the depth of silence and letting the ocean to open your soul, and it returns it to you careless and clean, as it was once in your childhood.
Surfing is a way of fighting for one's own soul, a higher tension and the way of entering a certain border state, when all the bother remains abroad and you are confronted with the pure existence of your "I". Your brain starts slowing down, leaving a space for numerous sensations. Soul and mind converge at one point, feelings are sharpened to the limit, and you literally feel the pulsation of life. Your heart beats in one rhythm with the waves. It's like the birth of spring, the state of flight and inspiration when the daily duel between you and the encircling world disappears because at this point you gain unity and Freedom. Though lasting only for a moment, but for a few deep breaths it's not just air, but life itself pours into your lungs.
To be a surfer means to contain many things, to combine sets, just as surf combines light, air bubbles, water, shine and twilight. Knowing your goals - that's what surfing is. It is something that blocks future and the past, but most importantly it seizes the moment and makes present complete.
We get closer to nature and tune to its biological rhythms, we have our own clocks, that depend on moon phases and swell chart.
Each wave changes something in you, flushes something unnecessary and frees up space for the salient... and when you fly along this green wall, time seizes for you, and there is not a single thought, which means you can easily hear the voice of Universe. Perhaps that's why you go there again and again, conquering fears with each next wave, as you clearly know: you won and became a little stronger, a little better, a little purer and more connected to Universe ...
Early wake-ups, licking the wounds, ignoring bruises, believing in yourself, focusing on your goals, moving to new challenges, never stopping to learn and grow and never, ever giving up. Because you know, it's the only way to reach the stars. Life truly begins at the end of your comfort zone.
© Elin Vidoff