Water Under the Bridge
I guess I've been taking a break from surfing. It wasn't really a conscious decision, it just kind of happened. Somewhere in the last year, I realized that surfing was running my life a little more than I wanted it to. My days without scheduled work were spent floating around in the ocean, driving the coast, scouring for decent waves. I became really preoccupied with my ability, and often inability, to surf Ocean Beach in the winter, my career was plateau-ing, as was my brain and desire to do much more than surf and hang out with my friends. Being the kind of person who requires a consistent endorphin rush to maintain sanity, surfing is not one you can really count on for a daily fix. I'd show up at the beach, the waves would be shitty, I'd spent a half an hour traveling there, and then I'd either have to suck it up and paddle out, or go home unsatisfied. Enough reason to give up this unfulfilling relationship, right? Wrong. Enough reason to back off a bit.
It's my tendency to operate in extremes. I'm working on it--developing the slow burn, using patience with a realization that the finer things in life often take time to develop. I approached surfing with a full on obsession for the better part of six years. I have some of my closest friends and best memories thanks to surfing. But at some point, I realized I just didn't want to need it that much, and other parts of my life were lacking as a result. I started doing yoga more and more again and eventually my surfing habits had faded to an average of once a week by winter. Such a crime, but for someone who managed to get in four or fives sessions a week in previous seasons, it felt like nothing. I'd even moved to San Francisco to be closer to the ocean, and here I was surfing the least I ever had. The good thing about doing this though, was that all of a sudden it changed how I was experiencing my surfing. I stopped worrying about how many waves I caught, whether I was getting better, and started being aware of what if felt like to paddle out every time, what the water felt like on my skin, the air on my face, the way the world stops when you get to dance on water. I felt open again. I fell in love again.
Maybe it was the break, maybe it's the yoga, maybe it's getting older and realizing that life isn't always about rushing to have the next amazing experience, or spending too much time freaking out about what's behind or ahead. I feel really blessed to have every day I get in the water, every breath I take on a yoga mat, every opportunity I get to meet someone new. But sometimes, it's also great to come home to old comforts, to revisit the things I love(d) and see them with new eyes.
I had an incredible session the other day. Sunset, peeling little rights in the chest-head zone (my dose of perfection) with only three people in the water. I can still surf, despite my fear that it's a skill that one loses, and I can still love it to the point I stay beaming for days afterwards. I'm ready, to go back, to give it my attention again, maybe this time it'll be different (and even better!) or maybe we'll fall into the same patterns we used to, surfing and I. Somehow I doubt it though.
It's my tendency to operate in extremes. I'm working on it--developing the slow burn, using patience with a realization that the finer things in life often take time to develop. I approached surfing with a full on obsession for the better part of six years. I have some of my closest friends and best memories thanks to surfing. But at some point, I realized I just didn't want to need it that much, and other parts of my life were lacking as a result. I started doing yoga more and more again and eventually my surfing habits had faded to an average of once a week by winter. Such a crime, but for someone who managed to get in four or fives sessions a week in previous seasons, it felt like nothing. I'd even moved to San Francisco to be closer to the ocean, and here I was surfing the least I ever had. The good thing about doing this though, was that all of a sudden it changed how I was experiencing my surfing. I stopped worrying about how many waves I caught, whether I was getting better, and started being aware of what if felt like to paddle out every time, what the water felt like on my skin, the air on my face, the way the world stops when you get to dance on water. I felt open again. I fell in love again.
Maybe it was the break, maybe it's the yoga, maybe it's getting older and realizing that life isn't always about rushing to have the next amazing experience, or spending too much time freaking out about what's behind or ahead. I feel really blessed to have every day I get in the water, every breath I take on a yoga mat, every opportunity I get to meet someone new. But sometimes, it's also great to come home to old comforts, to revisit the things I love(d) and see them with new eyes.
I had an incredible session the other day. Sunset, peeling little rights in the chest-head zone (my dose of perfection) with only three people in the water. I can still surf, despite my fear that it's a skill that one loses, and I can still love it to the point I stay beaming for days afterwards. I'm ready, to go back, to give it my attention again, maybe this time it'll be different (and even better!) or maybe we'll fall into the same patterns we used to, surfing and I. Somehow I doubt it though.
Labels: surfing
