Folds in the rhythm of waves that distend time. Contact with the water shapes and moulds your body.
Over time, the water gets under your skin. It holds you down and beats you up and bit by bit, it breaks you open. Gasping for breath, starving for air, you rise up to the surface changed. There are monsters down there in the shadows. Folds in the rhythm of waves that distend time. Contact with the water shapes and moulds your body. Even after the drips from your nose have stop flowing, what is left behind are the impressions of waves. You are harnessed to another beat entirely.
Quantum mechanics suggest that even particles don’t really exist. We are all just collections of waves. Us, the space between us and the beach, the moving bands of energy we call waves. Even on a more sanguine level, our blood is saltwater. There is no surprise that it feels good to bask in saline fluid. It’s like going home to what we are. I feel like this sometimes equips sea-faring people to better understand the value of their home and to care about what happens to it.
The water is an equalizer. It shuts us up and shuts us down. Just when we think we have no comfort zone it clamps hard, splintering board or bone, pushing the lungs to bursting point over jagged rocks. Though the cocksure gait of many young surfers belies it, the water teaches us humility. All of our desires and ambitions are irrelevant. It’s good to be taught by something bigger than all seven billion of us.