Winter Morning

    It was still dark as I stood on the beach freezing my butt off.  I had already put on my wetsuit.  It was cold and clammy from last night’s session.  I needed to get in the water.  I needed the water but it was going to be really cold when I first got in.

    Life was horrible, I did not know what I wanted but I did not want what I had, where I was.  I was seventeen at the time.  I didn’t like school.  I hated everything, actually hated.  Think about that for a minute.  Hate, that’s a damn strong word.  It’s as strong as kill.  It’s as strong as, well as hate.  I hated everything, without reason.

    I paddled out while it was still dark, before the first faint pink streaks in the east.  I needed water.  I needed salt.  I needed to belong.  There was nothing for me on the shore, maybe pain, nothing else.  It was cold, my hands and feet were numb before I had been in the ocean thirty seconds.  The swell was nothing to speak of, maybe a five foot face from trough to crest, mostly three or four foot sets.

    I only liked the ocean.  It was the only place I belonged.  The ocean gave me only what I earned.  Nothing more, nothing less, the ocean and I worked together.  If, I showed respect and was within her parameters she rewarded me with life.  If I crossed a fine, delicate line, she crushed me, unlike the people on land.  They reward on a whim and crush for joy.

    As I paddled out I was late for a wave and it broke before I could pass over it unmolested.  As I punched through the lip, icy water slipped down the back of my wetsuit.  I anxiously waited for my body to raise the water temperature to a tolerable level.  I paddled outside, where I knew I would not be caught by any breaking waves and sat on my board, waiting for enough light to surf.  It felt good to be in the water, to taste the salt and feel the cold comfort of liquid.

    The water was glassy, the waves were well shaped and it was going to be a cold, clear day.  The ocean was the slate gray of winter water with no sun directly shining on it.  It was a beautiful morning, and that alone was worth being there.

    I caught several waves and managed a tube or two.  They were good waves and I was in the ocean’s rhythm.  We were alone, she and I together.  We communicated without noise, she gave me life and I gratefully accepted her gift.  In return I gave her my respect and admiration.  I offered her my knowledge, water skills, my tears and trials, my young life.  She accepted them with aplomb.  Unconditionally, she took me in and offered her secrets.  We moved together, danced, made beauty and grace.  Together, we thanked creation for the opportunity to be together.

    Then partner ocean offered the wave I will remember forever, perhaps not the best shaped or most awesome wave that I ever caught, certainly not the biggest.  But without doubt the most memorable.  The most beautiful she has ever given me.  This is the wave that will travel with me beyond the grave.

    The sun was behind the houses and trees above the beach as I paddled into the wave and the take-off.  The tail of my board lifted and I felt the board begin its slide down the face of the wave as I popped-up to my feet.  It was steep, a fast reef break with boils in the line-up and take-off area.  Dropping in behind a boil I turned back up onto the face, placing myself high on the wave.  I admired the rippled slate of the shoulder rising before me.  I was in the perfect spot, no adjustments were needed and there was a tube in my immediate future.

    I crouched down as the lip pitched out over me and time stopped, noise ceased.  I looked up to see the grey crystal falling over me, and then it happened.  It must be what seeing God is like.  I have tried a hundred times at least to describe the beauty, the awe, and the sheer exhilaration of the next few infinite moments.  Not once have I been successful.  But that has not stopped me from trying to share revelation.

    The sun crested the houses and trees.  The water went from cold, winter slate grey to warm, tropical green.  The roof of my cocoon became a crystal lipped cascade of clear green heaven, nirvana, the beyond.  I don’t know what to call it.  I don’t think there is an adequate adjective to describe the beauty, the change I saw.  The wall before me became the green-gray of pure winter saltwater.  The face sparkled, a million diamonds placed before me, for my peace, for my exhilaration.  I saw it; I felt it, the change from cold to warm, from light to dark, from rejection to love.  It was mine for an infinite instant I saw life, I saw God and it was good.  Beyond good, there may be a word for what it was but I don’t know that word.

    I looked in awe not sure if I was worthy to see, to feel, to experience the offering by star and ocean.  I am still unsure thirty-six years later.  I set my exit line by instinct.  Unable to do anything else because of the revelation I had been offered freely.  I could do nothing and shot past the shoulder and collapsed into the water.  Physically felt neither the cold nor wet of my environment.  The splendor of life, all creation had been laid out before my dark soul offering me warm light.

    I paddled back out and sat for some time.  I was unable to do anything but reflect on what had been freely given to me.  I felt the warmth of the sun on my back.  Eventually I began surfing again.  I missed first and second period, unable to get out of the water.

    I experienced something beyond description that morning.  It affected me in ways that I am not capable of describing.  When I got out of the water life was good.  I wasn’t jaded enough to have an experience like that and still hate the world.  I knew it was my experience and mine alone.  I also knew that it was beyond my limited capabilities of sharing it in a significant manner, beyond human limitations.  But, that hasn’t stopped me from trying.  Ever.