The Rhythm of the Sea

by Cameron

"Wish I was ocean size, no one moves you, no one tries, 

      I was born with a heart of stone, to be broken with one hard blow,

            I’ve seen the waves, crash on the shore, come together with no harm done."

 -   Perry Ferrell

The magnetism of the sea on human psyche is undeniable. People flock to the sea, swim in the healing water, learn to surf, dream about sailing. The romantic imagery surrounding the sea is as ancient and varied as the collective sub-concious itself. Like a sea of dreams, crashing, conflicting, tempting one ever over the horizon.

Yet any sailor can tell you, the romantic idea of sailing is not all it's cracked up to be. The sea can be a moody bitch, and no mistake. Illusions are quickly lost in a life of constant motion, sea-sickness, salt water in the bilge, lightning on a dark and stormy night in a little piece of floating fiberglass…

The Rhythm of the sea does not follow human expectations of fair and right. Those who come to the sea expecting to find some order, some sense, some pattern, get their bubbles roughly popped. I think this is what is behind sea-sickness - the expectation that the motion of the ocean will be, predictable, manageable, or somehow relate to human necessity…  But of course the sea stops for no man. It is only once one lets go completely, expect nothing, and go with the flow, that it begins to make sense. Eventually, after many years, what was once foreign, and dis-orienting, becomes logical, then ultimately comforting. And because it is a comfort without security - you are at best a tiny floating speck - one can sleep soundly in the knowledge that all is well, because all is temporary.

Life comes in waves, and surfing has always been my favorite metaphor for life: Sometimes you catch the perfect wave, and sometimes you get caught inside by a big one that you just didn’t see coming. It is said that only someone who has experienced the deepest mis-fortunes is capable of experiencing the highest happiness, and nowhere is that more true than in the ocean. Some days are small and glassy with dolphins and rainbows, others are dark and stormy, and although you wonder if it is safe, the potential for the ride of your life keeps you pushing forward... Sometimes, in surfing, the waves can be perfect, but if your head is not in the right place, you aren’t going to catch anything. Attitude is crucial, and it takes being tuned into the rhythm of the sea. Many seasoned surfers can relate to waking up in the dark, and without even seeing the ocean, knowing that the surf will be good that day – after a while you just feel it. Getting on the Rhythm of the ocean is something that happens naturally, just by being around it.

I have long thought that surfing is the most natural form of meditation. When you catch a wave, matching its motion to yours, at exactly the right place and time, there is no room for other thoughts – you are here there, right now, or you are dead. Also, when you consider the high level of fitness, intuition, and timing involved, each surfer must have a little bit of Zen master in them.

 Imagine:

You are out surfing, far from the land, the freeway, the telephone. Water cools your skin. Rising and falling with the swells as you lie on your board, the light twinkling off the water. This is recreation time, yet you are alert to the wind, the birds, the light, the time since the last big wave… You breath deep. Slowly, you become aware that something is coming, first just a feeling that you are perhaps too far inside, then a darkening of the horizon appears, confirming your intuition... The surfers further out from you start to paddle for the horizon, first slowly, then as they pass over the top of a swell, and can see what is outside, they paddle faster. The mood changes, adrenalin kicks in. As you crest the top of the swell, you see it - outside of you the whole ocean is rising up, darkening.  Already furthest out, and to the side, the wave has started to break, the whole ocean folding over on itself, crashing like thunder, and heading your way fast. The wave feeds itself by sucking water off the reef, and you are swept with it as you paddle towards the growing wave. You can see through the wave, right into the depth of the ocean now - straight ahead - you are actually below sea level, and the whole ocean is coming down on your head. As you rise up the wave, you make your time your turn – no thought now, just instinct. Paddling back in, with the wave now, it is still pulling you up and over - to the edge of a crashing cliff. You give it everything you have, and then more. You can see the water draining off the reef below, becoming the wave you are trying to catch. Thunder roars, spray gets in your eyes. At the highest most critical moment, milliseconds before disaster, you jump to your feet, and tuck under the folding lip of the wave. At 10,000 miles per hour yet slow motion, chaos all around you yet calm in the center of the vortex, the tube, time stands still… Everything moves around you, but you are still. The reef passes underneath and the wave all around you, and the light through the wave stands out in Technicolor detail. You are inside a kaleidoscope, inside the roar of a giant sea shell. You in the womb of mother ocean, and she is Oming.

Life comes at you in waves. Sometimes you are in just the right place, sometimes you get wiped out. It helps to be prepared. It takes great courage and stamina you never even knew you had. It takes intuition, luck, and timing. It takes practice. It takes knowledge AND wisdom. You must know your limits, but never give up. Most of all it takes the will to give it all you’ve got, heart on your sleeve, no shame, no fear, no holding back, right here right now.

Thank you mother ocean for all you have taught me, and still do, strong yet soft, powerful yet forgiving, washing over me, shaping me into the man that I am and for bringing me into direct contact with the here and now.