Boxing Day 2023. Secret Surf Society Sesh. It was still dark when I loaded the surfboard in the car. A sliver of gold and orange light outlined the mountains. 49 degrees. As I drove through a low mist in the canyons, the temperature continued to drop. 47...46.... OOoof. But again, the water temperature was warmer than the air, so all was well. A few wispy clouds catch the cotton candy pink of the growing dawn. No one but me and the construction workers at 7 am on this day after Christmas. Until we got to Blackies.
It was busy, which was weird. Surfline said 1-2 feet. In the middle of winter with 1-2 foot waves, it shouldn't be busy. Surfline said the big northwest swell wouldn't arrive until Thursday. Well. We apparently caught the leading edge.
Here's how Reihna described it this morning in our group chat, after we all got safely home, "Our first paddle out, we all got wiped out & tossed around under the break. When I surfaced, none of us was on our boards and it was like a washing machine." She even lost her hat -- wave took it right off her head despite the clasp around her chin. Washing machine is a very apt description. When I surfaced that first time, it was all foam. I'd never seen that much foam. I came up, had no idea where my board was; couldn't see it. I was still attached, but I couldn't see it 8 feet away from me. It was deep. High tide and the wave pulled me up, away from the sandy bottom, so I couldn't find my footing for a minute. I thought, "Whoa. This is big." I turned around and saw a Surf Sister who looked just terrified. She's about a foot shorter than I am and really got tossed. I found my feet, we found our boards, and I grabbed her hand. We went in a bit together.
Definitely big pool energy today. Barrels at Blackies? You know it's big. It was also constant. (Sensei Surf Instructor said "consistent." Seems such a gentle word for the incessant pounding coming at us.) I had no chance of getting outside today. The waves were big and really strong, lots of energy. The current pushing me north toward the jetty was also strong, and the undertow kept trying to pull my feet out from under me, back out to sea. It was a constant struggle from multiple directions. I can tell what kind of day I've had by which body parts hurt when I get home. Today, my forearms hurt from trying to hang on to my board. There was no real paddling in; we just hopped on waves at the right time to ride in on the foam. Even then, I never found my balance today; I was always leaning left or right, really wobbly. If these waves were 3-4 feet tall, with an occasional 5 footer, then I cannot imagine what 10 feet would look like. I can't wait to go back and see it on Thursday -- safely from the beach!
I'm not sure how the conversation arose with Sensei Surf Instructor -- likely complaining about Surfline -- but they mentioned how this was not at all predicted and really epic conditions. I told them how much joy that brought me -- that every day we just accept what the ocean gives us, that every day is beautiful, and this day was no exception. That I was working on feeling this way on land: joyful no matter what's happening; embracing the moment; trying to fully accept my lack of control. I said I was trying to figure out what it is about my life on land that is so different from this. He said something so profound, "It's all real out here. Nothing is, like, paperwork." I loved that. On a week when I've taken a pause from Buddhist Therapist Guy, Sensei Surf Instructor steps in with the wisdom!
It's all real out here. How wonderful. What isn't real about life on land? Money, power, status, finding the right job, the perfect apartment.... I tie myself in knots over things that are based on a story I've been told so many times I believe it's true. Most of it is paperwork. A fiction. A story I tell myself. So maybe another clue to finding equanimity, peace, and joy amidst the chaos is to look for what's real.
I was so proud of the Surfing Sisterhood today. Everyone stuck with it; we stayed for the whole hour working with the conditions, facing our fears while knowing our boundaries and limits, and got some awesome rides in! That's real. Courage and supporting each other. That's real. A gigantic wave bulldozing you into the sand and stealing the hat from your head? That's real. And getting back up, laughing joyfully, to do it again? That's real.
We had a Surfline prediction of the conditions, faulty as usual, yet I didn't stew over it for weeks on end, losing sleep, before accepting reality, adjusting plans, and moving on with the next right thing to do. I had an idea of what life would be like when I moved here to California, what the job would be like, what it would feel like and what I would do. None of it has happened. Mostly, I've been overwhelmed with expectations exceeded in ways I never imagined. And there are also ways in which I've been underwhelmed by the outcome. I've been thinking a lot about where I focus my attention (usually on the negative) and the belief that it's my fault that one aspect of this move isn't turning out entirely as I had hoped. Focusing on the failure instead of the joy and gratitude, wondering what I did wrong instead of realizing how much is right. Perfectionism pervades my existence.
I've also been thinking about this idea of control, and fully accepting that control is an illusion -- embodying that idea, not just intellectualizing that idea. Prediction is a way to control. I can be prepared for anything if I can just predict the future. Surfline does its best, I'm sure, but it's often inaccurate and I'm not bothered by this. What's the difference between life on land and surfing in the ocean? Nothing actually. I have the same amount of control in the ocean as I do in life, but surfing bring pleasure and living brings angst. Why is that?
Focusing on what's real. The conditions demand that I stay in the moment. I am grateful every day that I am there. Attend to the positive. (I can't imagine the group of us handling a day like this even 4 months ago. We've come so far! We can point to concrete, watery accomplishment.) It also just feels so good. It's honestly not cold at all. It is 100% refreshing. So perhaps staying in my body instead of my head serves me. I want to be differently informed about life these days -- different data points for making decisions and how to feel about them. Perhaps focusing on what's real will help.
On the surfboard, having zero control over the conditions is freeing. Full acceptance is joyful. Nature is awe-inspiring. I've been adopting this psychological stance to see how it works on land. I'll keep you posted.
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