The metaphor of surfing the wave
Long-term readers will know that I have been learning to surf.
My partner Tony has surfed all his life. He has salt water in his veins.
I was born in Fiji. Sand between my toes and salty hair is my preferred way of being. My daughter has Maori blood in her veins. We are island people of the Pacific.
There is some part of us, something deep in our being, that knows our elemental place. When we are in our element the effort to stay upright drops. A light sparks in our eyes. The tentative voice finds flow. The ums and pauses melt away. Strength flows from the deepest well.
So many people struggle to find this elemental place. Sometimes it has to do with location, sometimes it has to do with how we fill our days, sometimes it has to do with whom we fill our days with. And often it is all of these and more.
I have always been at home in the water. To be far from the ocean makes me feel fractured and discombobulated.
I find myself at home teaching, in front of a camera, to a global classroom. Any tiredness I had prior to, disappears as the work of my life flows through me, supporting others. It is a joy and an ease built on decades of my own falling down and getting back up.
The metaphor of surfing the wave is a strong one. To be in our element. To become one with the greater force of the ocean. To be present to the nuance of each wave, the wind, the tides.
To throw yourself with complete determination at the coming wave. To feel it take you. To risk the plummet off the edge…the very moment it is most scary, to then stand up and ride. And then the exhilaration of partnering with the ocean, the wave, nature. For surely as the tides turn, when we think we have dominated it, the ocean throws us like pumice to the bottom.
Photo taken November 21st 2020
