Life and aliveness is found on the other side of that threshold of discomfort

It was cold last night, the coldest morning so far in our Aussie autumn. Summer people, cold is not our natural default. Snuggled in the warmth of our van, still dark, getting up is harder. 

Yet to stay in the deliciousness of what Tony and I call wallowing is to miss the sun cresting the Pacific Ocean.

Dawn is my favourite time of day. The quiet of dark, the stars still so bright. Even today with the fresh kiss of chill requiring movement to keep at bay, I cherish these moments. 

We explored the shore of Tony’s childhood, the place he learned to surf. The place he became a lover of the ocean, of sea life, of fishing and exploring the richness of a coastal life. 

He shows me things that I would never see with eyes not trained to see. 

I am now in my beginning apprenticeship of the study of waves. How to read waves. I have at least 30 years of that study ahead of me before I begin to approach any level of mastery.

The joy of choosing those short moments of discomfort, of arising in the cold and dark to witness beauty exploding, or getting into a wetsuit to get into a cold ocean to surf, we must choose these brief moments as an act of self love and reverence towards our aliveness. 

To sink back into a state absent any form of these moments of discomfort is to become lazy in indulgence. This is to curl back into a sleepwalking state of entropy. 

Life and aliveness is found on the other side of that threshold of discomfort.

Photo taken May 7th 2022

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